My care is like my shadow

Laid bare beneath the sun

It follows me at all times

And flies when I pursue it

I freeze and yet am always burned

Since from myself again I turn

I love and yet am forced to hate

I seem stark mute; inside I prate

Some gentler love doth ease itself

Into my heart and mind

For I am soft and made of snow

Love, be more cruel or so be kind

I found this short poem in a book I discovered in Peter and Annabel's house. It was called, British Greats by Sir Graham Jacoby, a pompous sounding tit by all means but this poem, supposedly written by Queen Elizabeth all those years ago struck a chord with me. I read it again and again until I knew it off by heart.

I stayed in the tavern for just under a month, spending the first week hidden away from the prying eyes and whispers.

"I heard she died…."

"She stabbed herself…"

"Brought back by witchcraft, after making a deal with the devil 3 years ago in Cuba…."

"Word is she bore a demon…."

Due to Annabel's good food and care I healed surprisingly quickly. She fussed around me something shocking. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she needn't bother, as I wasn't as disturbed by the experience as I should have been, either that or I was ashamed of the fact that I should care more. I wasn't completely unaffected by it. The idea that I had carried someone's child for three months scared me, and that scar on my stomach was a constant reminder of what happened to me and Baby Giacomo. Yes, it was a boy.

Peter tried to speak to me of it one day, when I was sitting alone at the back of the tavern, smoking a clay pipe and watching the tide. The pipe was Annabel's idea, saying the tobacco was good for clearing the head and the lungs.

"Marion Crugg?"

"Hello there" I said not turning around, fascinated by a small dingy trying to make its way out of port without being crushed by a larger fishing boat, the way the poor chap frantically pulled at his rigging was rather comical.

He took this as an invitation to sit down on the wall beside me, "How are you feelin'?"

"Better, tired, but better."

There was a long pause, then, "You have certainly changed since the last time I saw you. Why, I wouldn't have known it was you at all if it hadn't been for the stories about you here in town."

"Good job you did or I would be a goner" I tried to say lightly.

He smiled, "Definitely not the timid little girl you were 10 years ago. Stronger, brash, more dangerous, but still no better with a cutlass" he laughed then.

"Oi!" I gave him a light smack on the arm, "My sword skills have improved greatly since then!"

"One of many skills you have obtained over the years I'm sure" he said, still laughing.

I stopped, "Is that a prod?"

"What?" he then realised, "Oh no, I didn't mean it like that."

"Good"

More silence.

"Do you remember, the last time you saw me you proposed and then forced me to kiss you?"

I screwed up my face in embarrassment, "Only too well"

"You were a sadder person then" he murmured

I tried to keep the mood light, "You were a handsomer one"

"I'm still deemed good-looking!" he half grinned.

Of course I was only pulling his leg. He was older, yes, but it just seemed to make him appear more distinguished, "It's a good job that Annabel looks for more than just brawn."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling at the thought of his wife. That's what love was.

"I'm going to move on soon, maybe get away from Tortuga for a while and do a bit of honest pirating"

"But you're only half rested" Peter frowned.

"And?"

"You're mad!" he exclaimed, "You only end up half killing yourself again"

"Possibly" I shrugged, enjoying the scandal in his voice, "Why should you care so?"

It was his turn to shrug and I grinned. Was there a small part of him that liked me? Possibly just a little bit? Me being a erratic contrast to his long-standing wife. I moved closer and seeing that he didn't shuffle away, I dared to move closer still and trace my finger along the seam of his britches.

"I'll be gone within the week. It'll probably be the last time you see me, for a good while anyway. Do you really want to leave anything unsaid…..or undone?" I whispered in his ear.

He didn't reply, he just turned his face closer to mine. I brushed my lips against his and smiled as his hand brushed my arm and he pressed his lips lightly against mine, only to pull away, "I love my wife and I much as I like you. I don't want to be like you Crugg. I'm not bad."

He stood and patted me on the back before heading back indoors.

"That's me" I called after him, "Sad, mad and bad!"

I gave a shrug before returning to my pipe and boat watching.

When I eventually did emerge from the private quarters of the tavern, I brushed off the rumours with a hard stare and a laugh. I wasn't going to let that destroy me; it would become part of the legend that was Marion Crugg. Annabel and Peter wanted me to stay with them longer, which would have been nice, but I didn't want to outstay my welcome and I had to move on, I had things to do.

Firstly, I made sure to ink that blessed poem onto my skin so I would not forget it. I had it placed on my stomach, just above that scar, another addition to my collection. Before the accident, I also had an octopus tattooed onto my bicep and a busty mermaid up my right calf for no other reason than that she was beautiful.

Secondly I had heard whisperings. Whisperings that Jack Sparrow was once again Captain of the Black Pearl and he was on the move. These were only whisperings mind, so I tried not to take anything I heard too seriously, as I had also heard a rumour that Jack was actually a bearded in lady in disguise.

Of course, the title of rumour was removed, (not the bearded lady part, the other one) when I was sitting outside a tavern with a group of temporary friends having a drink. A young lad came hurrying up, and whispered to one of the men who happened to be his older brother.

The man froze, "Are you sure?" he said sharply.

The boy nodded, "Very sure"

"What's this?" someone else asked.

What he said next made me choke on my rum, "The Black Pearl. She's here!"

Soooooooooo, this is where Crugg begins to get involved with the story in the films, taking place during the second one where Jack goes to Tortuga to get his "99 souls". I'm not going to insult y'alls intelligence by writing out the whole script of the films, instead I'm just going to write out the bits where it is relevant to Crugg's story. So why don't you all go and have a POTC movie marathon to refresh your memories while I write the next chapter. Sound like a plan?

Once again, please review and let me know what you think!

P.S. The baby's name is pronounced "Jack-a-mo"- Italian for James or Jack.