Title: Gypsy Revenge

Summary: Jack stumbles across a small band of rogue gypsy women, but has no idea that one of them is looking for *him*, with one thing on her mind – revenge.

Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean, the actors, or any of the merchandise. I've never even been on the ride! C'mon, do ya think I would have let them get through the whole movie without Jack takin' his shirt off? Seriously people!

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Chapter 1: Another Thief

Tortuga was as busy as usual, if you could call it busy. The main tavern was full to bursting, though very few were fighting (unusual, wouldn't you say?). The two girls dancing in the centre of the room held the attention of every man in the building, and some of the women's too. It wasn't something unusual to see dancers in the tavern, as there were always girls willing to dance, but it was how these girls were dressed, and how they danced, that caused the silence.

They were gypsies, travellers who payed their way from port to port after being abandoned by their own people under suspicion of treason. One woman had broken the laws of the clan, and for that mistake, five women had lost their livelihood, their families. The woman who had made the mistake had been killed, and her group banished.

In Tortuga, Jack Sparrow stood and watched with mild curiosity as the women sashayed around the floor in front of him. The other three were in the room somewhere, sometimes dancing, sometimes being handed money by hypnotized patrons. One girl walked past him, smiling under her eyelashes, but Jack paid no notice. There were better things to do in Tortuga than have all his money stolen by gypsies. Such as try and convince Anamaria to get back onboard the Pearl.

It wasn't easy in this crowd to even find the woman, let alone talk to her, especially when there seemed to be an almost inexhaustible supply of gypsies set on retrieving the leather pouch that hung from his belt. After looking in vain for a while, he took a seat, ordered a drink, and watched the gypsies at work, keeping out of their way to save his moneybag from their clutches. It didn't take long for him to realise there were only 5 gypsies, not 500 like he'd originally thought.

The two in the centre of the room were obviously the least skilled at pick pocketing, resigned to dancing while the others stole, or were given, their money, but even Jack had to admit they could dance. They each had a fine silk shawl, and used it to weave around one another, creating the appearance that the two were one.

The younger of the two was blonde, and wore a long black, multi-layered, silk skirt underneath a silver belt. From the bottom of the belt hung silver coins of different sizes – clearly handmade. The shirt was little better than the top of a corset, though it too was inlaid with silver, and silver chains, ending in yet more silver coins, extended almost to the top of the silver belt. Her shawl, obvious from even the distance between them, was silk, dyed with both black and silver. She was what many men, especially nobles, would call the ultimate fantasy girl, but to Jack, she was just another thief.

Her companion was the same, though with brown hair instead of blonde, and she wore an identical outfit of dark blue navy, with gold instead of silver. Briefly, Jack wondered what Will would have said were he there to see it. Probably something along the lines of finding something to cover the girls up with, the whelp.

Sighing, Jack leaned back in his chair, watching with interest as the remaining three gypsies waltzed through the room, taking purses and bags as easily as lifting drinks. There was one, he realised, who was dressed in what Elizabeth would call 'sensible' clothing, meaning she wore a full dress, and corset. It was easy to see that she was the eldest of the five, but even the many years of hard travelling she must have done through the years barely caused a line to appear on her face.

One of the three stopped very near Jack, and appeared to be talking animatedly with one of the patrons, who was asking for a private dance. Quietly, though, Jack reached down to his money bag, and caught the small hand that was about to deftly unhook it from his belt. Without letting go, he turned, and found himself face to face with furious dark eyes, that not only seemed familiar, but sent a shiver down his spine.

"Let me go," she said forcefully, though keeping her voice down. Jack said nothing immediately, just looked over the girl. She was young, no more than 17, but with the customary temper of the gypsies. "Ye don' look old enough t' be an outcast, love," he stated, and the girl's resolve steeled. "Let me go, sir, else I'll call for help. We may be women, but we can use a sword easily." Jack laughed, "Oh, aye? An' what will happen when I tell the missus in charge 'ere that ye have my money?"

The girl's face turned slightly pink, and for a moment Jack wondered if it were from embarrassment or anger. He didn't have to wait long before she told him, in uncertain terms, what it was. She pulled away slightly, before rushing against him and kicking him hard in the kneecap.

Under the long red skirt she wore knee-high black boots, something that he'd seen very few women wear, and the toe of the boot felt to be coated in metal. Either that or she had a very strong leg. Jack let go of the gypsy and grabbed his knee- it was throbbing painfully, and, he realised, the damn woman had taken his bag after all that!

He looked up to see the three gypsies gone from the room, leaving the two dancing in the centre to finish in their own time. Jack didn't take his eyes off the two, knowing that eventually they would lead him to the girl with the haunting eyes, the one who had his money!

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"Port Royal, aye?" the blonde whispered to the brunette, who nodded, "Aye. A week." They hugged, briefly, before separating. They hadn't been easy to follow, but Jack knew that they could've lost him had they known they were being followed. And now he knew where they were heading. Port Royal, one week – he could manage that. Now all that was left was to find Anamaria and haul her onto the ship!

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Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to kick a pirate in the kneecap, thought Romani to herself as she pulled the brown cloak and hood around herself. It had been easy to see he was a pirate, especially by the leather bag he carried – a dockmaster's bag, inscribed with the intials of the dockmaster, and the name of the town. Port Royal – coincidences did happen then. She had a week to get to Port Royal to meet up with her friends, and sister. And to see if she could find a lead on the one person she'd sworn vengeance against since her mother's death – Jack Sparrow.

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