Chapter Three

Authors Note: Right, here we go with the third chappy of my fanfic… sorry for the whole "me" as "my" thing… I would do it as my, but, it is a pain in the butt to write it, first of all, second: it's really confusing as it is in first person, and three: it get's quite annoying, I am supposing from the number of comments, for the readers. Thank you for your comments, and I am very sorry for that entire confusion type thing.

I just came back from visiting England/Scotland… I love it there! Wonderful… my cousin was getting married, and it was brilliant, because everyone was drunk and dancing like loons!

Anyways, way off track! Here we go!

Disclaimer: See chapter 2

~Where We Stopped~

Charlene, Katherine's stepmother, had just discovered that Katherine had been taking sword-fighting lessons from Will. She walked in on them, with Jack Sparrow straddling Katherine, because they had just finished a fight that way. Charlene is now taking Jack to Norrington to be hung in the morning, and then she will be dealing with Katherine elsewhere.

Oh yes, just to let you know, the plot will be starting up in this chapter, because I remember someone (sorry, not near an Internet source) saying "Where's the plot?"…HERE IT IS!

Chapter Three

I lay on my bed, thinking. Poor Jack. My heart went out to him. The look on his face when he saw Norrington waiting was one I would never forget. It was a look that clearly said "You aren't winning this time, pansy. I have a trick up my sleeve." Then he looked at me with a look that I can't quite understand. He was being hung in the morning.

Not if I could help it.

I looked at my window, which had chains closing it for all it's worth. My door was the same way. The only door that was not that way was the door in my room, leading to my brother's room. I still couldn't believe he was gone.

Three years ago, my father was killed on a merchant trip to Spain. We had just moved from England to Port Royale. Their ship was sunk in a storm of tremendous strength. My brother did not take the death well.

We were all in mourning for my father. According for Charlene, we would morn for three years. This meant that we couldn't leave the house to go to any celebrations, only receive visitors if they were there to send their condolences. Elizabeth was kind, she visited once a week, bringing along Will, to talk to my brother.

We talked for a month about my father. Then, my brother went crazy. He only ate once a week, when Will and Elizabeth were here. We brought them up to our rooms, where we did not discuss my father any longer. I spoke to Elizabeth about my worries for my brother.

My brother would not leave his room either. He stayed in there, day in and day out, only leaving for the privy. Then, he started to talk to himself. Yelling at invisible creatures he saw, running from them, fearing them. He then, would leave his room many times, to get away from the creatures, which he was convinced, lived in his room. Charlene refused to let him stay in my room, announcing it inappropriate.

Then, a year after my father died, my brother hit rock bottom. He banged on his walls, screaming and yelling, then he suddenly quieted. I heard a clang of metal, then more silence. I gathered up my skirt, and ran into his room.

~Flashback~

I ran in, my face white with fear. My greatest fear was accomplished. He sat on his knees, a knife stained with blood laying beside him. His shirt was off, and there were two large, wide gashes up his arms. They were bleeding profusely.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" I ran to him, ripping a very large kerchief I had in my bodice, for if I sneezed suddenly, in half. I started to wrap it quickly around his arms, but he shoved me away.

He looked at me. His eye were sunken pits of purple, his skin stretched, veins profuse on his forehead. This was from his past six months, he had confined himself to his room again, not eating at all.

"Katherine, my time has come. A black cloaked figure just came and tortured me, telling me, I cannot stay here any longer. Our father is beckoning me to him, saying to leave you so you can find your path alone. He said that another would help you find it. You do not need me anymore. I have been a good brother, a good older brother, one year your senior, and now, I cannot continue."

He kissed me on the cheek, and lay down in his blood. I threw my self on him, begging him to not leave me. But he did, his last breath barely present.

I screamed for him, feeling his pain. Charlene came in, and say me, laying over my brother's body. Her face paled, and she started yelling. "Katherine, que fais-tu? Tu tues ton frère!" (Katherine, what'd you do? You killed your brother!)

She slapped me smartly on the face as I stood. "I did not kill my brother. He killed himself. Do you know why? Because he hated you, hated you making him mourn for years. He could not stand it anymore. I did not kill my brother. You did." I turned, and walked out.

~End of Flashback~

I was forced to mourn for two more years. I did not ever leave the house, but I did not go crazy as my brother did. Elizabeth visited twice a week, except for when she was not here. She told me the story as to why she was absent, and I instantly wished it could have been me that had been kidnapped. When the pirates attacked Port Royale, my stepmother and I were so far off (We do not live in the actual Port, just off in the country a wee bit off) that they did not attack us.

Tears streamed down my face. I felt the pain again. I could not stand to see another man die. I stood up, and quietly opened the door to my brother's room, and closed it behind me. His blood still was on the floor, staining the wood and carpet. His body lay on his bed, covered in a white sheet. It smelled awful in his room.

Charlene refused to give him a funeral. If it was even possible, she hated him more that she hated me. She just told everyone that he had left town, to go join the pirates.

I found his trunk, and opened it with a key I wore on a chain around my neck. It was a long chain that hid deep in my bodice. No one questioned what it was. It creaked open, dust flying wildly around. I found his old knickers, mid calf length black pants, with many materials tying it shut. He had an old white shirt, with a low neck, boots, belts, a hat, and two knives, a sword, and a pistol. I put them all on, and looked at myself in the mirror.

An image flashed suddenly in my head. It was a woman, looking just as I did. I felt as if I knew her all my life, but I had naught a clue as to her identity. I shook my head abruptly and loaded the pistol with shot and powder. I knew how to load pistols, because my brother had taught me, four years ago, as the threat of rogue pirates grew. I took a knife, and sliced it threw my hair, cutting off the ends of it. It only shortened my hair a small amount, but it had effect.

I was about to walk out when a glimmer struck my eye. I looked down in the trunk, and saw several piece of paper with an exquisite necklace with a black stone hanging off. It looked like a diamond, but I was not sure. I opened the folded paper, and read.

Dearest Daughter,

I love you. I want you to know that as I pass on to another world. It is three days before my execution for piracy, and I have been allowed one letter. Do not tell, but I am doing two. One is for you and another for your brother.

Yes, I am a pirate. So was your mother. She ran off after giving birth to you, and was killed in trying to get to the Treasure of Algerath. I was so heart broken that I did not remarry until I found Charlene. We married, but I quickly discovered her dark side. That is why I was gone so much. I could not bear to leave you and your brother alone, but I had not choice.

I was just caught by James Gibson, the much-hated pirate. He is almost as bad as Captain Barbossa. He kills me in three days. I'm sorry for this, but I could not help it.

There is a prophecy stating that someone in our line is the bearer of the Black Diamond necklace. This person is the only one who can retrieve the Treasure of Algerath. I send this letter to you, with the necklace inside. I am giving it to Poncho, though the prison window, to give to you. I am being kept in Gibson's prison.

On the necklace is an inscription, written in Scots. You learned it, as I taught it to you young, so you can translate. I am not telling this to your brother, because he is not directly from this family. We took him in when his mother died giving birth to him, and his father was a drunk.

I love you darling. Your brother is here to watch out for you, so follow him. He knows his time. Find the Captain Jack Sparrow. He is your fate. He will help you to the Treasure. I want you to find the treasure for me, if you can. I believe you are the One.

Love,

Father

I stared at it in disbelief. I picked up the necklace, and looked at the diamond. It was too dark to read the inscription. I decided to leave now. I tried my brother's door, but it was locked as well. My blood boiled. I kicked the door open, and ran out the front door. I almost made it out when my stepmother stopped me.

"I knew you would try and escape. Why are you dressed as a man, bitch? What happened to your eyes? You look like you've been crying! Over what? Did the Sparrow pimp shove too hard?" That was the straw that broke the camel's back. No one would insult Jack while I was around. I whipped out my pistol and shot her.

She fell, dead. Suddenly, five red coated soldiers started running towards me. I ran, not looking back.

Authors Note: So, how was it? I hope you don't hate me for killing off Charlene. (But she's such a biotch, how can u disagree?!) Is it good? Hahaha! The plot has begun! Woohoo!

I would have put more in French, but I do not know how to speak in past tense. It didn't quite work.

Please review everyone. I will now have Jack, um… I don't know… what should Jack do? Review, and tell me what he should do as a little after advert thing, and I will take the best idea (Everyone wins though, because they reviewed and got another chappy!) and put it in the next chapter.

And please review for the story, and tell me how it is! I would like constructive criticism, if it is needed.