Disclaimer: I don't own them! If I was a character, I'd want to own Jack, in real life I want to own Orlando... *half smile* Savvy? Don't sue, I got me no gold, avast.

Pearl
Chapter 2: There She Be
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They arrived mere days later. The Black Pearl was, after all, the fastest ship in the Caribbean. They set anchor and prepared to disembark.

"When shall I notify the crew to be back, Captain?" Gibbs asked. Jack cast a sideways glance at a scruffy-looking sailor who was gaping at the Pearl. Bloody sailors. No one ever believed she existed until she came into port, then it was open mouths here and there. The sun was just beginning its descent.

"Back by morning, Gibbs," he said. "I want her ready to sail by high tide."

"Aye, sir," Gibbs replied. He relayed the Captain's orders to the men, who set off, no doubt in search of some company for the night. And, under normal circumstances, Jack would have done the same... yet for some reason these were not normal circumstances. There was something nagging in the back of his head, ever since he had that Godforsaken thought en route that nobody loved him.

'Ridiculous,' he thought as he sauntered through town. 'Everyone loves Captain Jack Sparrow!' He ignored the stares he got from whores as he passed, barely listened to the whispers of "That's Captain Jack Sparrow!". Coincidentally, he found himself outside the pub.

"Well, I suppose circumstances are normal enough for me to enjoy a drink," he said aloud, gesturing to no one in particular. Swaggering in, he promptly received a bottle of rum and more than a few admiring stares. He made his way to his usual table in the back and sat down. The first gulp did nothing, but as he continued to down the bottle, his favorite drink began to take effect. He could always drown any sorrow in a bottle of rum.

So... why wasn't it working? He eyed the bottle suspiciously. Maybe there was something strange about this bottle... He sighed, sat back, and placed the bottle heavily on the table. Letting his head tilt back, he tried to forget about his own thoughts. Bloody hell, Jack, he berated himself. You've got nothing to worry about! He resigned himself to listening to other conversations. Maybe then he could forget his own troubles.

"Tonight," one man, sitting at a nearby table said. "We'll do it tonight."

"But why here?" another asked. "Aren't we s'posed to... you know, leave the Capp'n somewheres... deserted?" The other men laughed. They were obviously more than a little drunk.

"Aw, the Capp'n won't know the difference between here and anywhere with nobody!" one drawled, thumping his stein on the table.

"You know how the Capp'n hates Tortuga," the last said. "That's why we're here!" The whole table began to laugh again, and any further talk on the subject was lost in drunken hooting at any woman who passed by.

Fabulous, Jack thought. A mutiny. Staged by those idiots... He took another swig from his bottle. I can only hope their Captain, poor man he is, isn't idiot enough to be stranded by a bunch of morons- he looked around- in Tortuga, of all places. Sighing heavily, he turned his attention to the next conversation, which happened to be some poor lad proposing to his prostitute. Idiots- he drank again- all of them.

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Surprisingly, Jack Sparrow was close to the only man in Tortuga without companionship that night.

Of course, it had been offered. Scarlet and Giselle, both of whom had hated him at one point (those "broken promises" were a curse all of their own), were only among those women who tried to contain Captain Sparrow for the night. Even more shocking than promises to them, however, was the fact that they were turned down. Not even remotely politely, not with a charming smile, but with a melancholy wave of the hand, as if he were dismissing them before they even spoke. He had pulled himself into one of the nicer places in town to sleep, knowing that there would be less chance there of 'thumping' next door. If his hopes were to get some sleep, however, they were lost with the sinking sun.

He lay there, wide bloody awake, staring at the ceiling. What was doing this to him? He was Captain Jack Sparrow! The infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! He was a pirate, the best pirate the Caribbean had ever seen. Pirates did not care for love.

You're also a man, something reminded him. And young Mr. Turner is a pirate as well, by blood.

"Blast it all..." he muttered. "Bloody Will." He turned over, attempting to sleep. It was no use, the bed was unusually uncomfortable now. Swinging himself out of it, he grabbed his hat. He'd go for a walk. To see his Pearl.

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The night air did help to soothe him for a moment. He thought back to his first experiences with her, guiding her through the water. That was freedom at it's essential meaning- that was what he lived for.

The streets were bare; everyone had company and was most likely asleep by now. He took a direct path along the dock, right next to the ocean. There was never a time when he hadn't loved looking out over the ocean.

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"What are you looking at, Captain, when you stare out that way?" Barbossa asked.

"Nothing," Jack answered simply. "Nothing and everything. That's why I love it."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Captain," his first mate said. Jack had smiled. It was his own private world, in a way.

"It's so beautiful," he explained. "It's endless. No matter how far you go, it will never stop. You can keep going forever."

"Aye..." Barbossa said. "I don't think I quite grasp the meaning of it completely, but I'll leave that up to you, Captain. You just seem to never want to leave- the ocean or this ship." Jack gave his most genuine smile, looking down at the wheel in his hands.

"That is true, mate," he had answered. "I don't want to leave. My Pearl is the only woman I'll ever love."

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He had confessed it then. Back when Barbossa was still trustworthy, back when he hadn't a care in the world. Did it still hold true? He looked up the short distance ahead to the Pearl, outlined in the moonlight. He sighed. Then noticed a black, wriggling shape clawing at the side of his boat.

Hurrying towards it, he discovered a woman in the water that was shadowed by the Pearl, apparently trying to pull herself out. He watched her struggle for a moment.

"Bloody hell, woman, you'll never get out that way," he commented, leaning over the water slightly. Why, she just couldn't seem to grasp a handhold. She sputtered.

"You could help! Or at least offer to!" she retorted. Losing her grip on the hull, she splashed back into the water. Jack smirked. If she wanted his help, she'd have to ask for it. And he'd wait, surely she'd ask. She had to.

So he waited.

And waited.

And... waited.

"Bloody-" he began, then quickly stripped himself of his articles and hat and dived into the cool water. He looked around for her.

He spotted her near the bottom, desperately trying to work loose a rope that bound her feet together. All right, so that explained a bit of why her swimming was... lacking. He sped towards her. Reaching her, he noted that not only were her feet bound, but the other end of the rope was tied to a rather large piece of metal. What idiot would think to do that? He rapidly untied the knot that held the rope to the metal since he noted that she was beginning to look remarkably out of oxygen, pulled her into his arms despite the look of shock on her face, and made for the surface.

Back on the dock, she coughed and gasped for air while Jack retrieved his things. Good thing they were all there, or there would have been hell to pay in Tortuga the next day. Which, he noticed, was rapidly approaching. Signs of daybreak already lit the sky. He turned his attention back to the woman, who was wringing out her tattered sleeves and long hair, alternately. She sat up to untie the rope that still slightly bound her feet. Jack took the opportunity to notice that her hair was jet-black and tumbled all the way down her back. Well, stuck to her back was more of the situation, seeing as it was soaking wet.

She stood, cast a glance in his direction, and began to walk toward town.

"Whoa now, hold up there love," he said, walking toward her quickly. She slightly turned, a look of unconcern on her face. He grinned at her. "I don't get a thank you?" She barely blinked.

"Why?" His look must have been incredulous.

"What- why?" he repeated. "Well, I did just save your life, love." She scoffed.

"I didn't need help," she insisted. He stared at her disbelievingly.

"I'm not inclined to believe you," he stated, raising his eyebrow. She met his gaze and held it. She had the most peculiar eyes Jack had ever seen... not grey... he settled on silver. She bent, finally.

"Fine, thank you," she said, without an ounce of meaning behind her words. Her gaze roved from him to something behind him- he turned to see that she was looking at the Pearl. She walked past him and laid her hand on the hull, brushing it gently. Her back was to him- she'd never know if he gave her a once-over. She was very pretty, he decided. Her worn and slightly torn cream-colored top fell off her shoulders. She had banded it to her upper arms with red cloth, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. Likewise, she wore a piece of the red cloth tied tightly around her neck. Her pants were tight and black, they fitted her well. The knee-high boots she wore were a bit clunky, like his own, but seemed very suitable for her slender legs. He approved. She turned around at that exact moment, and for some reason he felt guilty. He snapped his eyes away from her legs and up to her face, but became sidetracked along the way... yes, she was very pretty. She turned again and rapped with her knuckles on the Pearl. Now that he didn't like.

"I wonder whose ship this is," she said before he had a chance to scold her. His jaw went slack for a moment. She didn't know the Black Pearl? He cleared his throat.

"That's the Black Pearl, lass. Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl," he added, with emphasis on his name. She turned to him again, eyes lit with something humorous behind them. She gave a little laugh which sounded to him like tiny bells. He wouldn't have guessed a woman with a voice like hers, deep, but very feminine, to laugh like that. It suited her. Just like her accent- he detected strong English with a hint of something else, possibly Spanish. So, she had traveled, at some point or another.

"This is the Black Pearl?" she repeated, looking the ship over. She laughed again. "Well, I must commend this Sparrow fellow. He picked a beautiful name for his ship." No doubt I did, he thought. He was interrupted, however."She could use a little cleaning up, though." He felt like screaming at the woman.

"Begging your pardon," he began through clenched teeth. She didn't let him finish.

"This... Black Pearl, I believe she'll do nicely. I must find this Jack Sparrow and speak with him." That was it, he'd had enough.

"All right love, Captain Jack Sparrow is right here," he announced with a hint of sarcasm. "But first, might you tell me why you insist on belittling my ship, not adressing me as 'Captain', who in the world you are exactly, and whatmy ship will 'do nicely' for?" Her eyes lit up again as she took his words to be a challenge of some sort. She huffed.

"Well, I bloody wouldn't have guessed that one," she muttered, crossing her arms. "All right, Mr. Sparrow," she said. His eyes narrowed a bit at her emphasis on "mister". She hesitated, as if contemplating something.

"Go on, bloody woman!" he exclaimed. It was early, he hadn't slept, he was mostly wet and all that rum was beginning to give him a headache. She glared at him.

"I will be requiring your service," she began. "As a means of transport. I will compensate you and your crew." She couldn't be serious. This was the Black Pearl, not some bloody ferry! He was Captain Jack Sparrow, weallthiest pirate in the Caribbean. What could she ever hope to give him that he couldn't already buy? He couldn't help but laugh a little and give her a half-smile.

"You can't be serious, love," he said. "I mean-" She interrupted him.

"I am dead serious, Mr. Sparrow," she announced, moving closer to him. He was somehow slightly intimidated by the look in her eyes, but dared not show it. "You will accept this as a..." she hesitated. "A job of sorts." He looked at her. He laughed again. He turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she cried, hurrying after him. He kept walking. "Mr. Sparrow, you can't just walk away from this," she stated insistently.

"Look, love," he said, pausing for a moment to look her in the eye. "I don't know who you are, why you were in the water near my ship, nor why you had that bloody anchor tied to you, but I'm under no obligation to help you, nor do I wish to. Savvy?" He turned on his heel and walked away again. She took a deep breath.

"Ooooh!" She hurried after him again. "All right! All right! I'll tell you about it all, will you just listen?" she cried with such intensity that he stopped. Turning, he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"All right love, go ahead. I'll listen." She crossed her arms again and Jack swore she was blushing.

"I need to get back to my ship. The Amythest Tiger," she began. He was surprised. The Tiger was a well known ship, he would have never guessed her to be a member of the crew. Wait, crew?

"Wait, wait, you're a pirate?!" he asked in disbelief. She glared at him.

"My name is Captain Pearl DeRogue. The Amythest Tiger is mine." Well, now he was in total shock. A woman? Captain of that ship? This woman of all people? It must have reflected in his expression.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"I just- you-" he began. Come off it, Jack, speak! "You're the Captain?! But you were splashing around in the water like a bloody idiot!" She bristled immediately. He had touched a nerve. "How did you get there?" he asked cautiously. She did not answer right away; her gaze fell to the ground.

"Well, my men, they- you see-" she began, but could not finish. His thoughts turned back to the men in the pub. His eyes widened.

"Mutiny?" he asked softly. Her head snapped up. Her eyes were cold.

"No. There is no, nor has there ever been, 'mutiny' against Captain Pearl DeRogue. It was a rebellion, one I intend to put down immediately." Her voice wavered a bit, but stayed level. Strangely enough, he understood. Her pride was at stake, everything. And if she loved her ship half as much as he did the Pearl...

"All right," he answered, half wondering why he was agreeing. Her eyes became curious. "We leave at high tide."

At least it would give him something to do. He didn't prompt her for verbal thanks this time; at the moment it wasn't needed. When he turned to walk back to town, she followed. He hadn't missed the look of relief that passed over her features for a fleeting moment. And he hadn't missed her whispered comment.

"Thank you, Captain."

He smiled. This could be fun.

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A/N: I can't keep up with my own thinking! Must... write... faster...! ^_^;