After walking for what seemed most of the night, the two men finally found a lowly tavern, situated in a corner of an alley, beyond the notice of many. Inside, loose women roamed around, offering up a good time for anyone who could pay the price. Men drank heavily, gambled, cussed, and threatened to kill one another for the slightest afront.

"Must feel like home to you." James said, crossing his arms in front of him, suddenly uncomfortable with the stares he was receiving. Not many recognized him out of uniform and without the wig, but it was obvious they knew that he wasn't one of them.

"You're funny." Will said, rolling his eyes. "Just stay close or you'll be jumped. You give off that 'I've got a full coin purse' vibe." He started walking towards the back of the tavern, ignoring the stares that came his way. He slid into a booth, James sitting across from him. From the front door, it'd be harder to spot them from all the way across the smoky interior of the tavern. A world weary woman came up to them, hands on her hips.

"What do ya want?" She said, a certain impatience in her voice.

"What's on the fire tonight?" Will asked.

"Chicken." She snipped. Will looked towards James, who shrugged.

"Aye, we'll take the chicken and two rums." With a sigh, she stomped off to go deliver the order. Will was pretty sure that she wouldn't even get half of it right.

"Rum? There's no rum in Port Royal." James said suddenly. "It was banned and it's extremely hard to smuggle in here, if there were even any smugglers left at all. " Will raised an eyebrow.

"James, we wandered into Docktown a good time ago. You're not in Port Royal territory or jurisdiction anymore." James frowned. "It's pretty hard to tell the difference between down and out Port Royal, and Docktown. The only true difference is I tend to see a lot more people I know on this side of the line." The waitress returned, plopping down the two mugs, and then the plate with the turkey on it.

James looked down at his plate. "You know, I'm not that picky, but not even I want to eat that." He muttered, prodding at the cooked bird. Even Will, who was used to food on a pirate ship, was giving the shriveled up, dark chicken a dubious look.

"Well, maybe it's not as bad as it looks." He said finally, reaching out and grabbing a leg, twisting it off. With one look at James, he sunk his teeth into the meat, pulling off a hunk and chewing. James watched him intently.

"How is it?"

Will made a face. "It makes me reminisce about moldy bread back on the ship." He said, and picked up the mug, taking a deep drink. James chuckled, pushing his mug towards Will as well. Rum wasn't among his tastes. He raised an eyebrow as Will took another bite.

"You must be starving." He said finally, watching the ex-blacksmith make another face. Will was about to respond when the door flew open, and a boy of no more than twelve, most likely a pickpocket, came flying into the tavern.

"The Navy!" He shouted breathlessly. "The Navy's entered Docktown!" Chaos broke out in the tavern as men fought to leave the tavern first, not willing to get caught.

James looked at the boy, then back. "First Tortuga, then Docktown." He muttered. "This isn't some random patrol. They're looking for something or someone."

"And most likely that someone is the two of us." Will snapped, pulling his coat back on. "Which is why we split up."

"What?" James face showed his shock. "Are you daft?"

"Like Jack." Will shot back. "There's two of us. If we split up and one of us gets caught, the hope still lies with the other, got it?" Reluctantly, James nodded. Will extended his hand. "May luck be with you, James, if we don't meet again."

James shook his hand. "As with you, Will." He watched as the pirate disappeared into the panicking crowds, then turned to find his way out.


Will finally got out of the crushes, out into the streets. True to the boy's words, marching could be heard from a few streets over. The sound was eerie in the foggy night, and Will suddenly felt very light headed, not knowing in what direction he was headed for. But he ran anyway. He ran for what seemed like minutes, but in all actuality, was a good amount of distance. Coming to a stop in an alleyway, he leaned against the side of the building, breathing deeply. He hated running away, but he was far too outnumbered to do anything else. His breathing normal, he looked out into the street, watching for troops. Empty. Venturing out into the street, he looked over his shoulder, watching his back.

Then the next thing he knew, fiery pain spread up his side, and his hand went to the vest, pulling it open to watch as dark red blood spilled out from the side of his stomach, turning the white shirt red. "What..." His kness buckled, and he dropped to them on the ground, wincing in pain, his arm pressing against the wound. Around him, the streets fell silent again.



James ran as well, finding his way back to the bad part of Port Royal as well. Familiar territory for him, more likely to find a place to hide. With his sleeve, he wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead, coming to a stop to take a rest. The streets were empty, quiet. He stood there for a moment, eyes closed, listening hard, but the sounds of marching or running did not reach his ears.

He sat down, back against the building. In only a week, he'd gone from well respected commodore, to wanted man. And to boot, he was completely innocent, just wanting to protect his wife. He stared at the walk, shrouded in the late night mists as well.

Climbing to his feet, he was about to take off running again when the sound of a pistol discharging rang through the night, very close. He started to jog down the street, away from the shot, when the part of him that would let no good man down kicked in, and he turned in that direction. Crossing through the alley, he came out onto the street where he had guessed the shot had come from. Hard to tell in the fog. Straining to see, he squinted into the grey mist floating around. A dark figure laying on the street caught his attention.

"Sir, are you....damn it!" He got down on his knees beside Will. He shook the younger man. "Will?"

"What?" The pirate blinked, as if he was drunk. Nearly the entire right side of his shirt was covered in blood, and as he moved slightly, pain tore through him again. "Pain...."

"I know, we've got to get you out of here."

"There's someone out there, get out of here, before he gets you..."

"Will, just shut up. I'm going to...."

The last thing Will remembered before passing out from the pain was the sound of a pistol in the dark, and something heavy falling on top of him, the awkward position tearing the bullet hold more. New, more intense pain spread through his body before he succumbed to the encroaching darkness.


She hated walking these streets late at night, wanted to live somewhere better than this, but the money she received from her job as a servant could not support both a nicer house for herself and her five brothers. Pushing the thought from her mind, she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, feeling the cold fingers of the mist crawling up her back.

Down the street, she saw an odd lump in the middle of the street. She slowed down, approaching them carefully. It wasn't like her to leave a person helpless, if that was what it was, but she didn't want to be caught in some kind of thief's trap either. As she came closer, she realized it was two men. One was slumped over on top of the other, who was laying prone on the ground. And there was so much blood.

Rushing over, she dropped to her knees beside them. She went for the man on top first. But he was already gone, shot in the chest. And it didn't look good for the man beneath him either, so still, but she went to check anyway.

She jerked her hand back when he let out a small mumble. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and his fingers twitched slightly. Pushing the dead man off of him, gently, as if in respect for the dead as well, she pulled back the side of the injured man's coat and vest slowly. She bit her lip.

The wound looked grievous, but she had to try something.