Well, here we are again then. Thank you to everyone for reviewing, and the film does not belong to me but to the Almighty Mouse. That's all.

***

A Hard Man To Predict

'Yeah, I've seen her. Tallish, long dark hair, red bandana, yeah I've seen her alright.'

'Really? Where?'

'In Scarlet's tavern. You see this?' The man who is speaking points to a large barely healed scrape on his throat. 'That was a gift from her. Bloody wench doesn't know her place.'

'Well,' says Jack as he gets up from the table in a dank cellar tavern on the western side of Tortuga, 'I dare say you deserved it, eh?' He takes a gold piece out from a bag under his coat, and throws it to the man. 'Have a drink on me, Harry.'

Harry grins, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

'That I will Captain. But why are you looking for her, if you don't mind me asking.'

Jack turns around. 'I thought that piece of shine would buy me no questions, Harry.'

Harry gulps his beer hurriedly. 'Sorry, Captain, I didn't mean nothing, honest, forget I asked.'

Jack grins. 'That's the spirit.'

------

All these people keep glancing at her as she pours drinks, she notices. Faye the miserable barmaid feels like a circus animal. She hasn't been called on to perform yet though, but it won't be long.

The whores have been whispering about her to their potential customers, and the customers have been passing it on. Every night so far Faye has become Phoenix in her mind, and felled at least one inebriated pirate if not more. She is beginning to feel somewhat tired of it, and also somewhat bruised and sore. She wonders vaguely if Scarlet would give her a night off, but it's doubtful. Phoenix is good for business.

As Faye is handing a tankard to a dark woman sat by the bar, there is a cheerful roar from across the room. That always means a friend has arrived, and generally leads to beer flowing like water, the dragging up of old grievances, and then someone blacking someone else's eye. She sighs, and makes her way over to ask if anyone might like vast amounts of alcoholic refreshment.

She draws nearer to the table, and lazily runs her eye round it, looking for the regulars. There's Harry, the man she toppled that first night, who doesn't seem to have the intelligence to hold a grudge. Four beers per night – no more, no less. Next to him is Jacobs, who only ever orders Scotch for some reason, and next to Jacobs is the newcomer. Faye stops, and stares until she thinks her eyeballs will fall out. Here he is, the man she has come to find.

Her father looks up, and looks directly at her. She sees the flicker of recognition that crosses his face, and she knows that he knows. To Phoenix, who wears daggers in her boots and has the sea in her blood, the world seems to hold its breath. He smirks, and gets up.

'I would like rum. In a bottle. Now. Don't make me have to ask again, girl.'

She doesn't miss a beat, and joins in the game.

'I'm sorry, sir, I couldn't quite hear what you said.'

'Look love; just do as you're told. Savvy?'

Harry cannot contain himself. 'Captain, it's her, leave her alone. It's not worth it.'

Jack's grin gets wider. 'She's just a little girl, what can she do to me?' Turning to his daughter again, he says 'I told you, get me my rum. Why aren't you moving? Go!'

He shoves her backwards in the direction of the bar, but Phoenix refuses to be shoved. The room has gone quiet, and she knows that now, for the crowd that watches, this is Showtime. And, she adds to herself, this is time to show him what I can do.

She turns as if to go to the bar for him, but spins back around with a kick aimed at his stomach. He is ready for her, and catches her foot as it comes towards him. Easily, he knocks her off balance, and she is on her back on the floor. His companions burst into laugher, and Jack smiles at her predicament. When she leaps back to her feet with her long daggers in each hand however, they stop laughing.

Jack draws his sword, and suddenly there is a widening circle around the two of them.

'Do you think this wise?' he asks her. He hadn't intended it to go this far, he doesn't want to hurt her.

She fixes him with a grim stare, and says nothing. She simply springs at him, blades raised. She catches him off balance, and he barely manages to block her. Phoenix fights like a demon, with the advantage that she has no reservations about wounding her opponent, up to a point. Metal clashes on metal and the impromptu battle takes them around the makeshift circle.

A figure on one side of the room sips at a drink, studying how these two move, how they fight, even how they look. The figure gapes in disbelief at the other spectators – how can they not see it? They are so similar; so alike in almost every way. The shadow sips from the tankard again. This is it, finally. This girl is the key.

Abruptly, the battle ceases. Phoenix can feel simultaneously the point of her father's sword at her throat and the reassuring potential stab of her dagger over his heart.

'Checkmate,' she whispers, so the onlookers don't hear.

He grins, and, unable to help herself, she grins back. The same grin.

'Congratulations, love. You've done yourself proud.'

She glows at this, but tries not to show it. He steps back, and sheaths his blade, while she tucks her daggers back into her boots. Deprived of bloodshed, the crowd turns its attention away from them.

'It would have been better if I could have beaten you.'

'You couldn't.'

'Why not?'

'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love. Or didn't you know?'

'I know exactly who you are.'

Jack nods. 'Naturally.'

Phoenix dives into what must be said. 'You're my father.'

***

Cliff-hanger! Tee hee hee