Disclaimer: I do not own anything from PotC.

A/N: Thank you so much to all of my reviewers. Your feedback keeps me going, and I am so excited that you are sticking with this story. I'm going away for the weekend, so I'm sorry to say there won't be any updates till at least Monday. Very sorry. Also, I wanted to answer a question that some of you have asked about if there will be a third story in this series. I have to say that I already have ideas for another story to follow this one, and I will probably turn this into a series that will follow Jack and Ana all the way up to the movie! I may even deal with after the movie at some point, but I won't get too far ahead of myself. So, I hope that comes as good news. Now, everyone have a lovely weekend, and enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 10:

When Ana entered Chris' cabin, the box of letters that she had rifled through was gone, and her husband was sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He did not look pleased to see her, but she did not really blame him after their confrontation on deck last night.

"Maria," he said simply as he motioned for her to sit.

"Chris." She remained standing.

"What did you want to see me about?" he sighed the sigh of a man who was tired.

"I found the letters," Ana said.

"I figured you had. You never were one to clean up after yourself." Chris smiled sadly, and removed the small box from one of the desk drawers. Setting the box on the desk, he slid it closer to Ana. "You might as well take them," he said. "They are all written to you."

"I don't understand, Chris," Ana crossed the room. "If those letters are to be believed, then why didn't you try to contact me?"

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

"Look, Maria," Chris started, using a voice Ana had heard him use when he was angry but did not want his anger to show. "I have never been very good at making friends . . . only enemies. Well, I've made a few that wouldn't hesitate to come find anyone I cared about to use them against me. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, because of me."

"So, you let me believe the man I loved was dead. That you could live with?" Ana's voice was low and cold. So what if Chris thought he was protecting her. The decision to let the world believe he was dead, was not only his to make. If only he would have come back to her. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth to hide from his enemies . . . but now.

"It wasn't that simple," he said.

"No?"

"No."

"Well, what about now, Chris? You had no problem coming to Tortuga and kidnapping me. Is this horrible threat that kept you away from your wife for two years suddenly over?"

"Yes, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"My enemies have all been dealt with, and I haven't the time to make any new ones yet."

"Don't be so sure," Ana snapped. Her mind was tossing around images of Jack Sparrow at the helm of her brother's ship hastening to brave all and come to her rescue. Unfortunately, she did not know if Prescott had ever found Jack, or if the pirate even knew she had been in Tortuga. Besides that, bringing up another man, did not seem like the right thing to do, given the circumstances. Jack may not be on his way to her side, but Prescott had come to Tortuga to make sure she stayed out of trouble. Since she had not, he, at least, would be looking for her. "Prescott came with me to Tortuga, you know. He will not be happy to find me missing."

"All due respect to your brother, Maria, but what is he going to do? He cannot leave his position guarding the settlements of England to chase after you. He won't abandon his duty like that."

Ana's eyes narrowed. "A lot has happened in two years, Chris," she said, recalling her brother's willingness to break the rules last year when Don Cornado had come to Kingston. "People change."

"Not our Captain Tarret," Chris replied, almost laughing, "he's a by-the-book Navy man, if I ever knew one."

88888

"This isn't happening," Prescott finally voiced the thought that had been running through his head since he had set foot in Tortuga, yesterday morning.

"Fraid it is, mate," Sparrow said, as he stood next to Prescott, watching not one, but two ships of the illustrious East India Trading Company bearing down on the Loyalty. Each ship, by herself, might have been a fair match for the Loyalty. Put the two together, and Prescott's former ship would by driftwood in seconds, if she tried to resist. He shook his still aching head, this was just his luck. So far everything that could possibly go wrong on this venture, had gone about as wrong as it could go.

Wracking his brain, Prescott mentally filtered through every story he had ever heard about daring escapes and winning against all odds. Sadly, all the stories he knew involved the Royal Navy fighting against one of the other nations of Europe. While Prescott did not particularly care for the French, and he had a new found distaste for the Spanish, no one would fight as dirty as the men of East India. He could try to convince these people, as he had convinced James Norrington, that the Loyalty was a normally functioning vessel in the British Navy. However, James had been miles from Kingston by the time Sparrow had taken the Loyalty. The ruse had worked because the loss of one ship had not been so important to notify surrounding outposts. The East India Trading Company had such frequent run ins with pirates, that they would be abreast of every event that even hinted at pirate activity. They would demand to be taken below decks, and with two ships to Prescott's one, they could demand whatever they wanted. Once below, they would find Sparrow's swag.

Prescott could not remember a time he had ever been backed into such a tight corner. "Devil or the deep blue sea," he murmured.

"Which do ye choose?" Sparrow asked.

"Normally, the deep blue sea," Prescott said, recalling all of the tales he heard about how East India treated pirates. In Kingston's town square, he had watched pirates hang that had been so severely beaten by East India agents that they needed assistance climbing up the steps of the gallows. He had even seen men bearing the brand of a pirate on their forehead. Needless to say, he was not looking forward to their hospitality, especially considering that he had no way to prove that he was not a pirate, himself.

"Normally?"

"Normally, my sister has not been kidnapped by her dead husband turned pirate," Prescott clarified. "We cannot all abandon ship and flee to the bottom of the sea. I have to get my sister back!"

"Any brilliant ideas?" Sparrow asked.

Prescott sighed. A brilliant idea would not do in this situation. They needed a miracle. "Don't suppose you're going to want to fight them?"

Sparrow faced Prescott, smiling. "We could fight, I suppose," he said. "What do you think, Mr. Daniels?"

"Aye, sir. It'd take 'em at least a minute to sink us," Daniels answered, wearing an expression indicating that he thought both captains had taken leave of their senses.

Prescott sighed. "We could run for a bit, and then fight."

"We could," Sparrow agreed. "I expect it'd take about five minutes to catch us, considering that we'd have to tack and take the time to loosen more sail."

"Indeed," Prescott said. "So, five minutes added to the minute they'd use to sink us does buy us some time."

"Aye," the pirate captain said. "Course, then we'd be pointed in the wrong direction."

"True. That would put us six minutes out of our way," Prescott said, trying not to laugh at the preposterous nature of this conversation, or the expression on Mr. Daniels' face.

"Don't forget, we'd all be swimmin' by this time, mate."

"Well, scratch that plan then."

"Too bad. T'was a good plan. Don't you think, Daniels?" Sparrow smiled at his first mate.

"Fighting two well manned ships at once? Of course, excellent plan."

"Any other ideas, mate?"

"Suppose they have twice as many men as we do, seeing as there's two of them?"

"At least," Sparrow replied, looking quite amused by Prescott's fatalistic demeanor.

"I expect each of your men can fight two or three well trained East India agents at once, can't they?"

Sparrow laughed, "Aye, with one 'and behind their backs."

"Pardon me, sir?" Daniels chimed in. "If you'll excuse me for askin,' are you both mad?"

"Mr. Daniels," Prescott spoke up before Sparrow could reply. "Don't ask questions you don't really want to hear the answers to."

It was not long before the first ship was alongside, and Prescott was watching a rather rotund gentleman boarding his Loyalty, followed by ten armed men. The large man, whom Prescott assumed was the captain of this particular vessel, cast a glance over the ship before speaking. "Who is in charge here?" his voice was nasally and rather irritating.

"I am," he heard Sparrow answer authoritatively.

"Very well, place him in irons," he said, as he ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck. "Who are the officers?"

"Are you kidding? This is a pirate ship, there aren't any officers. There's him and everyone else," Prescott heard him replying to the East India agent, and could not quite believe what he had said. He was a captain in His Majesty's navy. Years of training had taught him to act with dignity and resignation when facing an enemy of superior force, not to brazenly antagonize the man.

The fat man crossed the deck as quickly as his girth would allow. "And just who exactly are you?" he hissed.

"The cabin boy," Prescott answered flippantly.

"Aye, fine lad 'e is," Sparrow laughed. "Great singin' voice."

Prescott shot the pirate a glare.

The East India agent motioned to one of his cohorts. "Take some men, sail this ship to any English port. They will be pleased to have their ship back complete with a whole batch of pirates ripe for hanging. I believe they will show their appreciation monetarily." Turning to Sparrow, "take the Captain . . . and his cabin boy. Put them in the hold."

Daniels drew his sword, and stood between his captain and the hulking brute trying to take Sparrow into custody. The East India man stopped short. "What are you thinking, boy?" he asked Daniels.

"You'll not take us, tha' easy, mate," Daniels answered defiantly.

"Rash," Prescott mumbled under his breath.

"Pirate," Sparrow whispered, by way of an explanation.

"You're a fool," the fat captain declared. "Put him in the hold as well, Sutton."

The colossal man named Sutton unsheathed his sword and approached Daniels. Daniels glanced over his shoulder at Sparrow and Prescott, and winked. In a motion almost too quick to see, the pirate charged at his opponent. Prescott heard the swords clash once before hearing a gut wrenching scream rise up from Sutton's throat. The fat captain's mouth fell open as Sutton's severed arm hit the deck with a sickening thud. He drew his pistol. Prescott yelled out a warning to Daniels, a second too late. A shot rang out. Daniels' sword clamored to the deck and the pirate hit his knees clutching his bloodied shoulder.

The fat captain lumbered past Sutton, and removed the man's pistol from his belt. Cocking the weapon, he pointed it at Daniels head. "That was a very stupid thing to do, boy," he spat.

Almost in unison, Sparrow and Prescott drew their swords. The crack of two more pistols being brought to bear sliced through the silence. Prescott felt the cold metal barrel of a gun against the back of his neck.

The East India captain chuckled. "Fools, all of you," he announced, lowering his pistol. "Put these three in the brig, and let's get under way."

TBC

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