A/N: Sorry for the extreme wait, what can I say? It's summer, and I expected just a hint more spare time than what I've been allotted. But let me say, these next few chapters are the most edited ones I've probably ever written. If there is one grammar mistake in them, I'll be exceedingly surprised. Enjoy!

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(A/N: We'll be riding on Pete's back for this chapter, since I've so effectively put Guinn out of commission. Also, don't mind the border change, it's the last thing has yet to get right.)

"What do ya' hear, lad?" Anamaria asks Tuck, who, on the shoulders of the strongest crewmen, presses an ear to the deck's floor serving as the brig's ceiling.

"Not sure," Tuck says. I see him press his ear so tightly against the wood he winces, "Mermaid's ransom? Hey, that's ours!"

"They're headed fer the mermaid's ransom?" the captain asks, her voice suddenly tight.

"Guinn says she don't know where it is. Can't hear... Only Guinn can find it?" Tuck is dropped by the crewmen on Anamaria's nod as heavy footsteps cross the deck and silence reigns. Creaks and clinks tell us Faulkner's ship has moved away.

We don't stay in the locked in the brig for long after that. "An' what daft captain wouldn't know how to get out of her own brig?" Anamaria scoffs as she leads us all back above deck. After thankfully breathing in the fresh air, I scan the decks in search of Guinevere. I caught a brief sight of her just before we were forced below. She looked frightfully small and fragile as two of Faulkner's men closed in behind her. I saw no more. Fear is riddling me now as I find the deck completely lacking in Guinevere. The captain turns to me suddenly, and barks, "You, boy. Yer in Swallow's crew, aye?"

I blink, "Who's Swallow?"

"Guinevere- Guinn lad!" she cries with irritation. I nod quickly. Guinn may have become best of friends with the captain of the Osprey, but I freely admit intimidation in her presence. Though I think that's her effect on most men. "We need Sparrow. Go fetch him." Turning to the first mate, "Hurley, go wid him."

Before I know it, I'm rowing a longboat with Hurley towards the shore. My mind is whirling. What can I possibly say to Jack Sparrow, the legendary pirate- not to mention Guinn's father? As I have been many times before, I'm struck with wonder and envy of Guinevere's sharp mind. I, faced with one of the greatest challenges of my life, can already feel my tongue tying itself in knots. How I plucked up the courage to speak to Guinn on this very beach Hurley and I have come ashore on, I will never know. But it's too late to ponder and plan now, as we descend into the island's growth along a narrow path until we reach a tiny hut I assume is where the great Jack Sparrow lives. Captain Jack Sparrow, I correct myself- Guinevere wouldn't want me to forget the captain.

Hurley pushes me towards the hut. I glare back at him, but it appears to make as much an impression as glaring at a wooden statue. I step onto the hut's sandy porch, fully intending to be brave, but not doing too good a job of it. This is for Guinevere, I tell myself. I think of her standing alone facing Faulkner as his thugs close in behind. That helps me push down the fear, replacing it with the anger I feel for the sly pirate on his black ship. Clenching my hands into fists and letting the anger be my courage, I enter.

"Who're you?" a voice in the dark immediately asks.

I squeeze my eyes open and shut, trying to see into the hut's gloom, "Pete, sir."

There is a pause, and I can just make out a shape sitting on the floor against the wall in the darkest corner of the hut. "Hmm," says the shape, "'S he gone?"

"Faulkner, sir?"

"Aye."

"Yessir, an' he's taken Guinevere!" I can't help the note of desperation in my voice.

The shape levers itself off of the floor and into a chair at the hut's lone table. It's now I discover Captain Jack Sparrow is blind. "Guinevere's a tough chit, from what I gather, she can take care of herself," Sparrow says. Not even the flinch of tensed muscle reveals a different opinion of his daughter's kidnapping.

My new desperation mixes with the old anger, and before I know it I've slammed an angry fist down on the table. "That's not goodenough! Yer Captain Jack Sparrow! I hear tell o' you, I know the stories. They say you killed a ghost pirate king. So why're you 'fraid of Faulkner?"

"Because he took my sight, that's why!" Sparrow suddenly roars, bolting from his chair, "He took my sight, and then he took my boat." He points out to sea, where Faulkner's ship is not even a dot on the horizon any longer. "Still sails round here, every now an' again. He knows I can hear her, see, I know every creak of her hull, every flap as the wind fills her sails. He comes an' Anamaria has ta' chase him off, 'cause there's nothin' I can do about it m'self." Sparrow sits slowly, as if his words have taken all the energy he possesses.

I'm still standing, feeling a right fool, not having a clue what to say. Somehow, I can only think of one thing, "Why'd ya' give up Guinevere?" I'm thinking of what she said on the deck before Faulkner arrived; her finding, Sparrow's tender care of her, her home with the Turners.

The captain's empty eyes shut and he says as if reading a script, "Gave her up 'cause I had to. She needed a mother, she needed a father. I wasn't either o' those things."

I speak, but it doesn't feel like it's me speaking. "You was a pirate. You didn't want her ta' be one too."

"No, I didn't. 'S a lonely, dangerous life, that's not what I wanted fer my child, assumin' she is mine, o' course."

I give him a sour look which he doesn't see, and press on, "Well, she is becomin' one, ya' know. If she lives long enough ta' get away from Faulkner. So, I think you have a choice, sir, if ya' choose to do nothing: she survives, becomes a pirate, just as you hoped she wouldn't; or she dies, at the hands o' Faulkner. The Turners are on the Osprey, y'know, an' I got a feeling Guinevere would go back with them given half the chance. She looked right frightened on the deck with Faulkner. I don't think she really wants ta' be a pirate, I think she more likely jis' wanted ta' find you. He's takin' her to find the mermaid's ransom, you know it?"

Sparrow scowls, "A funny, funny ol' world, innit?" he says bitterly, "I know the ransom. Pr'haps better than anyone in the world, any man at least. An' Faulkner's gone after it, ye' say?" I nod, "He got the compass?"

"The compass you gave Guinn?"

"Aye."

"Dunno. Most likely, if it'll help find the ransom."

Sparrow thinks for a moment, "Funny how we call it a ransom, when it certainly ain't ransom fer anybody anymore. Why do ya' reckon we do that?"

I smile. If this isn't Guinevere's father, I'm a blooming wig. "Dunno, sir. Are you comin' then?"

"Aye. Won't let all my hard work keepin' Guinevere out o' me muddled life be keelhauled by some worthless guttersnipe."

My smile turns wry, "You sat in a hut on a beach fer the past seventeen odd years."

"An' don't think it wasn't hard work." Sparrow rummages around under the bed and comes up with a dingy hat and jacket, a pistol, and a newly cleaned saber. He asks for no assistance in putting on any of these items, nor in leaving the hut and walking to the beach. Hurley and I try to stay close anyway, just in case. He pauses on the shore and stands, I have no doubt he is imagining the horizon stretching out before him. "An' what might dear Guinevere be to you, lad?" he asks, "Plannin' ta' wed her?"

At this moment, I'm very glad Sparrow can't see me. I tell him honestly the conclusion I have arrived at many times since all this business began, "I doubt she'd accept me if I asked."

"Why's that then? She think she's too good for ya'? Not been scarred or maimed or what have you, have you?" He squints in the direction of my voice suspiciously.

"Well, she is too good for me, sir. I could never do what she's done ta' get this far. She dressed as a man, lied to the Turners all those times, and survived Tortuga an' two pirate attacks. Now she's gotten herself kidnapped." I add quietly, "Don't rightly know what I'll do if I don't get her back." I fall silent, lost in my own dark thoughts. I barely register Sparrow's increasing discomfort.

"Right," he says with a cough, "So, how's about lendin' a hand to get me in this here boat?" I glance up then, it's the first time he's asked for help, but he is still firmly facing the water and scowling. Hurley has taken the oars during our conversation, so I take the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow's arm and guide him into the longboat.

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A/N: I know it's kind of short, but it's something, right? We're fast approaching the climactic conclusion of this tale, so keep on reading, ya' hear? To reply:

Taka-Ichi-Sisters: Hey, since there's two of you, does this count as two reviews, since otherwise the last chapter only got one? Thanks for the support, and thanks for reviewing "Slayer's Star". Chapter two of that is on its way, I promise. I'm trying to do a bit more revision than I usually do. Trust me; it will only be for your benefit.

About you guys' story, in case you haven't gotten tired of waiting for a response from yours truly, it sounds pretty promising. But I must warn you of the dangers of Mary Sue-hood for all potential original characters. I recommend "The Many MarySues" by Avalea to protect said OC from a fate worse than death; you'll understand when you read it. You can search for it, but it's also on my favorites list. Also, making sure all the dialogue you use from the movie is correct is gonna be a real bitch. Hey, if somebody doesn't warn you, who will? I did a "Don Quixote" fic and even with the words written out right in front of me it sucked copying it out. Good luck!