A/N- Enjoyed a great birthday on Sunday! Done Race for Life dressed as 118, and haven't (yet) been turned into a llama. Hopefully, it will never happen. Veronica is also a chapter away from twelve. I am sleepy.

Chapter 11

As I submerged below deck, I grabbed a dusty bottle of rum from some where. Blowing the dust off the label, I tried to read what it said. I couldn't read or write, so it was really annoying me, especially after what Gibbs had told me. I smashed the bottle against the wall, but it was tough stuff. I tried again, and it gave way after all those years rotting down there. Simply letting the rum fall into my face, I managed to get a bit of it. After the God-knows-how-many-years-old rum was gone I sat down and studied my pistol.

Back then, Will Turner was quite a friend. Now? A treacherous little skank who I wouldn't spend anything at all to talk to. I wondered if he could still craft swords as well as he used to, and paint his weapons with such detail. You see, for those of you who don't know, Will had given me the pistol... what now, one or two years back? Anyway, he gave it to me, the most beautiful pistol I had ever seen. It was normal, except on one side it a had a brilliant design painted on the side. A sparrow, gliding in the wind, followed by a slightly smaller one. I still have it now, though the design is slightly faded.

Back to me dwelling in grief and gloom. I sat there, close to tears, but not quite. As I just sat there and sighed, I thought I heard a sneeze. Probably nothing, I thought. But again, seconds later, a sneeze erupted. I crept towards a load of barrels piled high in the corner, then pushed over a few, pointing my pistol at the shivering boy sat there.

He was older than me. Maybe a year or two. But still, it freakin' annoyed me. His hair was a mess. It looked like it had been cut recently, probably with a blunt or dull knife. Trust me, I would know. I swear to you, that his ribs where poking out of his shirt. I could see every bone in his body.

"Hey, you. What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound big and strong. I hoped my eyes weren't red and puffy.

"Wow. Wow. Your Veronica Sparrow" he brushed his mop back. Sorry, hair. "I- I've been longing for this, um, this moment for the whole of my life. Have you ever been told you've got a nice figure- I mean, pistol? Wow. Wow. That must do some damage. Can I see? Sure I can see, I'm like your biggest fan..." he went for my pistol, not threateningly, but still. I fired.

He looked more surprised than anything. I would too, if a bullet had been fired at my head. But the thing is, it didn't hurt him at all. Yeah, it surprised him, but other than that it hadn't hurt him. Why? Because the bullet had literally just torn a path through his hair. Didn't touch him.

"Whoa...have I mentioned I'm like your number one fan? No? Well I'm your number one fan! I've heard stories of cursed pirates, giant squid! Whoa... are those boots real leather? Whoa, course they are. Did you know leathers made of cow? They kill the animal, then skin them... or they skin it alive! I saw it happen, y'know. Strode up to the fellow said; 'Hey leave that cow alone' yup.. when your as big and burly as me, people tend to listen..." he puffed up his chest.

"Ok..."

"Hey, why are you wearing a bandana? Dad say's bandana's are only for poor, insufficient, beggars..."

"What."

"Dad told me that bandana's are only for beggars and the likes y'know? However, that one does match your boots" he didn't stop. I bet he didn't act like this normally. He was just trying to impress me. Of course, I'd seen this millions of times before. Once I'd even been betrothed, when dad was drunk and he suggested to a lad that I should settle down, have kids, get old and wrinkly while he'd be young and free. Honestly, parents sometimes.

Back to reality. My face darkened. My fingers curled into fists. "What did you say about my bandana?"

I suppose he had no clue what was going on. "Y'know. Beggars. Poor. Insufficient. Time wasters."

"Why you little...!" I punched him in the face. "Have a souvenir, from Veronica Jack Sparrow island. Exit is overboard, death or THE BACK ENTRANCE!"

The boy rubbed his check. He didn't seem in pain, he just rubbed it dreamily. "Whoa..."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Names Jamie. Or James if you like. Sorry about earlier." He blushed. Jamie had obviously gotten over excited, and was now about miffed about it all. "Drunk?" he suggested. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever. Ronny Jack Sparrow" I held out my hand.

"I know. I mean, not like I've been stowing away or anything. Just, I've been looking for you." He blushed again, seeing my face.

"Ooh! Someone's got a girl friend!" Charlie said, from behind a barrel. "Hey Jamie"

"You know him?" I blurted out.

"Hey Charlie? You ok?" Jamie replied. I was speechless. How in...

"Yup"

"Wait! Stop!" I raised both hands.

"Tell ya later, Ron" Charlie promised.

"RonNY" I corrected.

"Anyway, Gibbs was worried. He sent me to tell you that he said 'Shipwreck Cove is coming up yonder'" Charlie informed me.

"Great... and I owe them all something or other"