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AN: Okey dokey, first things first. I realize the last chapter might have been kind of confusing if you don't remember the beginning when Ana is explaining about her past and her father. Her father was born free, (Ch. 3) and he's the one who gave her the ring engraved with the "A" that she gave to Jack (Ch. 5). She said it was "A" for Adam even though Charles has told us it stands for "Ade," an African tribal name meaning royalty. I'm going to assume that slaves were given European names upon being sold to the plantation.

And: My lover reviews, I love you *muchos kisses*!

Quick question (had me wondering all day):

J.L. Dexter: Would that be a golly-gee-whiz-this-is-getting-intense utter silence I hear? Or perhaps: what-in-blue-blazes-just-happened,-I'm-so- confused,-please-rewrite silence and bewilderment?

Anyways, whew, I'm done. Here we go.

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Chapter 19: Three Musketeers and Dark Places

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Will, James, and Gibbs backed slowly towards the door that Ana and Jack had just vacated, the banging against the opposite door growing progressively louder with each passing moment. Suddenly, the chain snapped and three large black-skinned men burst into the room. Time seemed to freeze. The newcomers were bare-chested, with roped straps across the front with the obvious purpose of holding several weapons. Each had a different color of body paint in marks across their muscular chests; black, yellow, and red and were obviously trained warriors.

Gibbs let off a shot with his pistol, catching the yellow-painted man in the shoulder. The man let out a grunt as the wound started to bleed, and he shifted his blade to his other arm. He looked relatively unaffected by the blow, and his comrades did not even blink. Will, James, and Gibbs exchanged a look.

"Bloody 'ell," Gibbs muttered desolately.

Suddenly the black men rushed at the three. James, always opposed to killing without proper trial, began to fend off the black warrior with his sword. The man fought back with strength that had James backed into a wall. Gibbs drew his other pistol, knowing it his previous to only have one shot, and shot the yellow warrior again, this time catching him though the neck. He began to bleed fiercely, and slumped against the wall.

"Oy!" Gibbs yelled, jumping after James' attacker as well. The two men attacked simultaneous with their swords, as the large black warrior blocked them with one sword. They struggled against him, a battle of strength more than skill, each trying to press the blade towards the other side.

Meanwhile, Will had begun to duel the red warrior, who let out a ferocious noise before attacking. Will warded off two of his slashes with his sword and was barely able to escape the third by jumping out of the way; the edge of it caught his calf, cutting shallowly into the skin. Will winced and straightened, parrying the red man's attack with effort.

As he struggled with the warrior, he saw an average-sized man with blond hair swept back from his face dressed in a gray suit standing in the place that the warriors had come, holding up a pistol.

"Isn't it fascinating?" The man said, cocking the gun and aiming it at a wide-eyed Will. This must be Charles Adler that Jack and Anamaria had spoken of. "These soldiers I managed to find in Angola and are trained not to feel or register pain. Pity for you," the aristocrat said with a measured sigh.

Will saw his finger move to the trigger and shoved the black man in front of him to block the bullet. The shot rang out, burying itself in the red warrior's thigh. The man grunted, but did not fall. Will slashed out with his sword, hoping to catch him off-guard, and cut him across the chest. The red-painted warrior staggered backwards.

Charles' eyes widened and he hurried out of line of the fighting, most likely to hurry down the stairs after Jack and Anamaria, Will knew. He also reminded himself that it couldn't be helped, as he ducked out of the way of the large man's fist, his sword landing on the bed. He dodged the man's fist again, ducking behind the bedpost to shield himself.

James and Gibbs were still struggling with the black warrior, barely managing between the two of them to back him into a corner. Not a good idea. The warrior seized a chair from beside him and swung it hard at the two men, who dove out of the way. James swore heavily, seeing his sword skitter across the floor.

Will seized James' sword and plunged it into the red warrior's stomach, realizing that it was quite possible that it would have no effect on him. However, the man let out a strangled scream and gurgled as blood began to drip out of his mouth, and he fell heavily to his knees, causing the entire room to tremble. The warrior called out in a strange tongue, his hands rising over his head as if praying, and then collapsed to the floor, his life flowing from his body.

Will stared at him a moment, feeling a wave of pity for the man. He suddenly noticed the black warrior making his way towards an unarmed James, Gibbs hanging powerlessly off of his arm. Will leapt across the room to join the other two, grabbing the shackles that had previously been locked on Anamaria and were currently lying abandoned on the floor.

He launched the irons at the last remaining opponent; the heavy metal bindings collided with his temple with a dull thud. The black-painted warrior blinked several times, before stumbling backwards and slouching against the wall. James looked at him with pity, seeing his eyes roll into his head and his body slide down the wall, a trickle of blood making its way down its face.

James stood and picked up the iron shackles, and snapping them onto the man's ankles. Clutching his dagger, he cautiously approached the fallen man's head, feeling for a pulse. "He's alive. He'll most likely live," James announced unnecessarily. A silence fell over the group, the trio surveying the bloody state of the room.

"Adler," Will said suddenly, striding over to the small adjoining room. He saw that there was another door out of it left carelessly open, and saw that it led to a staircase that was not the main one that they had ascended. "Adler got away. Out the back, it seems."

"'E's probably goin' after Ana an' Jack," Gibbs growled, frown creasing his forehead.

All the sudden there was a flurry of activity between the three. Will tossed James' sword back to him and snatched his own sword up from the bed. James seized his sword and sheathed his dagger. Gibbs snatched his fallen pistol up from the floor and, noticing the key to the shackles lying on the bed, took that as well and flung it out the window. The three paused, nodded once in acknowledgement, and sprinted from the room.

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"Ana," Jack yelled hoarsely, propping her up against him and in turn propping himself up against the wall as he attempted to balance the both of them on the narrow landing. He clumsily held her against him, and several tense, panicked moments hater, he finally noted with a swell of relief that she was still breathing. He held her against him and felt clumsily for a pulse and found it steady. He hoisted her up into his arms and saw again that her side was soaked with a spreading red stain that he had noticed before.

Jack staggered a bit, unaccustomed to her weight, even though he knew she was very light, as it were. Jack carefully picked his way down the stairs, and he had to lean heavily on the wall even though it rubbed painfully against his shoulder. Jack began to hum, feeling incredibly alone, a part of him hoping that she could hear it and wake up. After what felt like an eternity (six verses of his pirate song), he emerged from the bottom of the stairwell into the dim light of the street. He felt his strength fading as he continued down towards the place where James had told the rest of the party to wait. "Just a little more, gotta keep goin'," he muttered diligently.

"Jack!" Elizabeth's voice rang out clearly through the night.

He smiled tiredly. Never had he been so glad to hear that woman's shriek. Jack lay Ana down carefully on the cobblestones and turned to Elizabeth, saying urgently, "Luv, give me some o' those skirts o'yers. Need to stop the bleedin'."

Elizabeth stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth forming an "o," as if to ask "What bleeding?" Nevertheless, she took her knife and cut a thick layer off the edge of her underskirts the whole way around and handed the strips to Jack. She then propped Ana's shoulders and head onto her lap as Jack tightly bound the wound around her ribs. He tied it over the cut, praying that it would stay and stop the blood flow.

"Jack," Elizabeth breathed, pushing aside Ana's dark hair to reveal a large bump and shallow cut along her hairline, "No wonder she isn't conscious." Elizabeth looked up as if suddenly realizing that the pair was without company. "Where's Will?"

Jack did not lift his eyes from Ana's still form. He did not know if she had fainted due to blood loss, a concussion, or even hunger or dehydration, but he did know she needed to be taken to a doctor. "The young Mister Turner, Commodore, and quartermaster are currently battling with Adler's big goons," he said humorlessly.

"He had men with him?" Elizabeth gasped.

Jack nodded reluctantly. Elizabeth gently lay Ana back on the ground and shot to her feet, picking up her knife once again and tucking it in its sheath tied to her sash. "Where are ye goin?" Jack asked curiously.

"I'm going to help," Elizabeth replied, turning on her heel and making her way back up the street towards the place where Will had come out of.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, lass," Jack called out tiredly from where he knelt beside Ana, moving to take Elizabeth's spot at her head.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Elizabeth snapped over her shoulder as she continued to move further away.

"The whelp's gonna kill me," Jack muttered. He called out in the darkness to the two British soldiers that were standing there, "Ye there, one of ye go with Miss Swann and keep her safe, savvy?"

The two men exchanged glances and after a moment one saluted and hurried after Elizabeth, knees high in the air as he jogged. The other stood at attention. Jack caught sight of in the darkness, a swish of skirts kneel by Anamaria's feet.

"So this is her, aye?" It was Eve, and she was looking at Anamaria in admiration, "This is the one that ye let yerself be taken and beaten for?"

Jack nodded mutely, his gaze being drawn back to his first mate. He saw that the makeshift bandage was already starting to soak through and cursed softly. "We 'ave to get her back to the Dauntless to a doctor," he told Eve sharply. "That blasted thing needs stitches or somethin'."

The girl nodded readily, noting the predicament they were in. One soldier: he would have to be the one to drag Evans back, a small boy, herself, a recovering and tired pirate captain, and an unconscious woman. Eve whipped off the cloak that she had been wearing, noting its heavy wool fabric. It would hold. "Lift her up," she told him, and the boy Matthew came scurrying over to assist them.

Carefully, the three moved the still-unconscious woman onto the cloak. Three people, four corners. Eve stopped, momentarily stumped. She swallowed hard, frowning, and looked at Jack, knowing exactly what must be done and not wanting to be the one to voice it. One more look at the wounded woman had her opening her mouth, "We could leave Evans 'ere," she suggested finally, "And this here redcoat could carry 'er."

Jack swaggered over to the soldier, squinting at him. "Ye look familiar. Have I threatened ye before when I was in Port Royal?" he asked him, mostly serious. The little boy Matthew giggled, and Jack glared menacingly at him to shush him.

"Names Murtogg," the soldier said nervously, "An' yes, we tried to stop ye from goin' aboard the Interceptor, sir," he added.

"Mister Murtogg," Jack said, waving his arms about graciously. "I'm gonna give ye the honor of carryin' me Ana back to the Dauntless. But," Jack got right in the man's face, sticking his grimy finger dangerously close to his nose, "If ye hurt her more, yer a dead man, savvy?"

Murtogg gulped, nodding furiously, "Aye, sir. S-savvy, sir."

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Elizabeth stood at the base of the staircase, cursing the lack of light. She held her dagger in front of her like a madwoman, wondering again what exactly she was doing, going off to help Will. She heard a sound behind her and spun around to see a British soldier standing there, his musket grasped in hand, face unreadable. She rolled her eyes. "I suppose this is Jack Sparrow's doing?" she asked him wryly.

"Ah, yes m'am," the man replied somewhat uncomfortably. "If it's quite alright, Ms. Swann, I'll scout out these 'ere stairs and yell down to ye when I find its clear."

Elizabeth sighed, twisting her hands in frustration, "If you must."

The soldier disappeared up the stairs, and Elizabeth slumped against the wall, cursing all etiquette that made Captain Jack Sparrow have the British Royal Navy watch over her like this. The wall behind her began to move, and she stumbled backwards with a muffled shriek.

She straightened up, her dagger pushed out in front of her as a threat to the void that had emerged in front of her. "Hello?" she whispered, calling herself a cowardice fool the moment it left her lips. She stepped closer to it, wondering if she could be imagining the hushed sounds coming from the passage.

Elizabeth took one more step forward and suddenly felt something large making a strangled grunt collide with her outstretched hand. With her outstretched knife.

She did the only thing she could do given the situation: she screamed.

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AN: Oooh do I feel evil. Is it too confusing and all over the place? Please let me know if you're currently staring at the computer going "what on earth just *happened*?" Savvy? Yes?

On a lighter note, I think it's almost done, just another chappie or two for this baby.

But of course, I already am considering an idea for a sequel------

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