A/N: This was a fun little piece, and the misconception in the chapter is intentional. I believe Elizabeth stayed and got married to Will. Just Pintel and Ragetti don't know that.

My thanks to my lovely reviewers, and because of you i am able to continue writing this. It gives a purpose in life! Yay! And here I thought my purpose was to be the bitch of the year! :) Hey, we all have lofty goals!

My thanks to Catgirlutah and Piratedragon for sticking with me. And it is about time, Bill! You need to write some of this stuff. And I know that Blacklabel and PeiPei will read this eventually. So, it keeps me happy!

Chapter 21: Ladies in Disguise

Pintel finished serving the most recent customer, and the little bell above the door tinkled to signal the man's departure. The pirate grumbled a hearty "'Bout time!" as he dropped the coins in the cash box for the day. He glanced down at his partner Ragetti, who was sitting on the floor and hidden behind the counter with his long legs stretched out to their full length and wiggling his bare toes against the wall. His back was to the counter, and a big book was laid out on his lap and propped up on the big black dog's back. Lucy was busy eyeing the plate of tea biscuits at the younger pirate's side. A large mug of ale was on his opposite side and closest to the older man. Pintel bent over and seized up the mug and took a long strong drink of it, then he plopped the half empty mug back down. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. He hated this customer service thing, especially since their pockets were off limits to him.

Ragetti ignored his friend's grumbling, as he took a drink from the mug. It had been four weeks since he was shot, and the sling had finally come off this morning, but his shoulder was still a bit tender. In Marita's opinion, he was not really healed enough to do heavy labor, so he still had limited chores. He didn't argue. It got him out of work. Unfortunately, he found out the hard way, that taking a bath was not considered hard labor, and he did not need assistance, no matter how much he complained about the pain in his shoulder and needing her help. Marita could be quite a persuasive person in many and various painful ways.

It was Monday afternoon, and, although still a bit grogged from the previous night, the men weren't as bad off as they had been for the previous three weeks. The moon was too close to full for proper partying this weekend. So, the men stayed at home, played cards, and got totally sloshed on the supplies in the house.

Marita went out on her normal household shopping this day, and she took Estella with her to pick out material for a new dress. So, having finished his reduced chores and feeling that his partner was far too lonely up front, Ragetti felt it prudent that he go sit up front with him and the dog. The reading lessons that the mistress of the household were starting to sink in pretty good of late, and so he chose to bring one of her books with him, and he was appropriately aggravating about the words he didn't understand or he mispronounced, and asking Lucy may have been more productive than asking the older pirate, who not so subtly offered to do things with that book that the author had never intended.

"Prissy good fer nuttin' pretty boy!" Pintel grumbled about his last customer.

Ragetti looked up from his book. He almost looked normal. Marita had taken his wooden eye, against all his protests, for three days and painted it to match his real eye, then she some wax on it to smooth out the splinters. The eye had seen better days in its last thirty years of existence. Although he did not want to be parted with it for that long of a time (It was like he was bereft of his best friend), he had to admit it didn't itch quite as bad, nor did it fall out as often. To complete his appearance, he had chosen to grow a mustache, that rather complimented the features of his face well. This wasn't to say that Pintel did not jibe him about it often.

"At least, he di'n't make a pass at ye," Ragetti remarked, as he took up one of the tea biscuits to offer it to the man. The disturbance of the said food alerted Lucy, and he sat up. He quietly and gently closed his slobbering jaws around the cookie. The younger man narrowed his eyes menacingly at the dog. Lucy relented. The one eyed man looked down on the now slobbery cookie. He shrugged and wiped it off on his shirt, then he offered it to Pintel again. The other man snatched it from him and popped it into his mouth.

Choosing to ignore his friend's earlier remark, the older pirate sneered "Are ye gettin' anything out of that book?" as he spewed cookie crumbs everywhere.

Ragetti shrugged. "Some. I wish I were smart like Mrs. Marita and 'Stella."

"Bah!" Pintel complained, "Ye keep all this big sophisticated namby pamby stuff up, and ye'll be turnin' into one those nancy prancy pretty boys like what just left."

"Always wanted to be a bit fancy," the younger man replied, as he slipped the drooling Lucy a cookie, "Be something other than a thieving street rat."

Pintel leaned back on the counter. "Och! Ye be more than a thieving street rat. Ye be a full blooded thieving bloody pirate. Ye and me, we've plundered and pillaged our little black 'earts out. We 'ave lived more than any of those priss aristocratic fops could e'er dream of. We've done things that would make 'em fill their britches. 'Ell! We've been things to scare the life out of 'em. Nah. I prefer bein' me than one of them."

"I'm still me, and I'll always be me. Kinda be 'ard to be someone else. It would take some god or devil to be takin' me soul 'way and stuffin' someone else's soul in me body, and who would want to be me other than me."

Pintel's brow furrowed and steam rolled from his ears. He squinted his left eye as he tried to figure out what his partner was talking about. Before he was able to give it up for a hopeless cause, the bell jingled again. He muttered a not so nice curse, as he went back to work. It didn't take long for him to let loose a low appreciative whistle through his rotted teeth, as he laid eyes upon the fancy young attractive lady and her charming maid servant. He gave his partner a firm nudge with his boot, as the ladies approached the counter. The upper class lady had long curly light brown hair, that framed her delicate elven face. Her hourglass figure needed no corset to enhance its shape, and he did note that she wasn't wearing one. All men must have their hobbies. As her blue eyes greeted him, he felt the tug of familiarity at the edges of his memory, then he felt a different kind of tug at his shirt tail, before he was able to open his lecherous mouth.

At Pintel's kick, Ragetti turned around onto his knees and peered over the counter at the new customers of interest. The cookies, now being unguarded, were greedily consumed by the dog. The one eyed pirate's eyes opened wide, and because Marita had put so much work into that wooden orb, it stayed put. The man felt a brick hit his gut with an amazing force, and he nearly lost his tea biscuits and ale with it. He swallowed down his pounding heart in his throat. He gave Pintel's untucked shirt tail a good firm yank.

The older man ceased scratching his head in thought, held up a finger to the lovely ladies, and bowed behind the counter. Anger burned in his eyes as he looked at his trembling companion. "This 'ad better be good, you lout brained git!"

"Do you know who that be? The gov'rnor's daughter and 'er maid. Ye remember, we kidnapped 'er from 'er mansion, 'cause she 'ad the coin."

The older pirate gave the two chatting women a side long glance. A nasty lump formed in his throat, as the power of recognition slammed into his brain. "Bloody 'ell!" he spat.

"What are we gonna do, 'Enry?" the younger whined.

"Don't fret, boy. I be thinkin' up something right now," he replied, as he stood up to his attentive pose.

A stupid smile crossed his pale face. Elizabeth Swann looked at him with that slight spark of recognition, but it did not ignite anything. The filthy pirate, who had kidnapped her several months earlier, had had several baths, his hair combed and kept, and was now dressed decently like a respectable man. The thought processes worked well on her, and if his knees didn't feel so weak from fear and the situation wasn't so dire, he would have made a pleasant little comment, that may well landed him unconscious.

"Do I know you, sir?" she asked congenially.

The older man's face remained in a frozen grin. After too long of a time. he said, "No parle ingles!" Then he bent over and gasped in pain, as Ragetti conveniently punched him from below.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at him and his peculiar actions. "Pardon?" she asked.

Panting out his pain, he moved from behind the counter. "We be closed, madam. The baker is out on business, and we ran out of dinner rolls and such not."

She watched him with vast suspicion. "The Commodore suggested this bakery and suggested I buy the scones."

Sweat stung Pintel's blearing eyes, as he looked back to the counter for support. A tray of danishes appeared on top of it. He hurried his way back to behind the counter, tripped over Ragetti and flipped the danishes off the counter and sent them flying onto the floor to the dog's great delight. Making a rather crude curse and calling his obstacle several rather nasty inappropriate things in mixed company, he pushed him violently out of the way and squished him in the corner. He then pulled the scones out from the counter. He dumped them unceremoniously onto the wrapping paper, tied them, and shoved them in her hands.

"Don't worry 'bout the price. They be free since the commodore sent ye," he quickly added, as he hurriedly ushered the women out the door. He slammed the door shut and bolted it after them. Leaning up against it, he grasped his chest and panted.

Ragetti stood up from his hiding place. All color ran from his face. "What are we gonna do, 'Enry? She be the commodore's woman and all! She knows we be pirates!"

The other man slunked his way back to the counter. "There ain't nuttin' fer it. We gotta make a run fer it."

"But . . . uh . . but it be daylight out and all, and we'd be seen, and what 'bouts the bakery and Mrs. Marita and 'Stella?" Ragetti sputtered.

"If we are caught 'ere, and that is what will be if that woman reports us to her lover boy, then we will be hung, and likely Mrs. Marita and the littl' one will be joinin' us on the scaffold."

The younger pirate nodded grimly. He bit his lower lip and held back the tears. He had to accept his fate. "What ya got planned?"

"Well, they are lookin' fer two men, right?"

"Uh . . .?"
A strange sparkle lit Pintel's eye, and a sagely smile crossed his lips. Between the anxiety over the pending execution and leaving his surrogate family, Ragetti felt a new kind of fear creeping up his back. It was always a harrowing experience when his friend came up with one of his bright ideas. "Well, what if we ain't no men?" Pintel exclaimed, and Ragetti felt those tea biscuits and ale come up for argument. He obediently followed the shorter man up to Marita's rooms.

A half an hour later, the tall man found himself tightening Pintel's prize corset around his friend's not exactly thin bulk. Marita's long sleeved dress didn't exactly fit the thinner man well, because of the lack of curves in all the right places, and the seams were precariously stretched to the point of breaking. Both men acquired proper cleavage by stuffing their shirts down the front of the dress, which made the clothing even more strained. Marita was a woman, but she was not that top heavy.

Pintel spotted the music box on the dresser and went to investigate it. He looked the box over curiously, opened it, and only puzzled briefly the emission of the trickling music before he dumped the contents into his handbag. Ragetti, meanwhile looked at himself in the mirror and fiddled with his blonde hair to get it to sit down and behave like a proper lady. He espied a golden crucifix on the corner of the mirror frame He paused a moment before he wrapped his finger cautiously around the chain, as if he thought that the pendant might burn him. The cool metal lay in his hand for a few moments, as he thought of the woman that it properly belonged to. He then messed about with the clasp, and managed to undo it and get it done again around his neck.

"Ach! Come on, pretty boy. We ain't got all day fer you to priss yerself," Pintel remarked, "And ye ain't all that with that dead furry caterpillar on yer lip!"

Ragetti turned to him and planned to stick his tongue out, but Pintel had found Marita's stash of money. The stout little pirate moved to pour the contents into his bag, but his partner's swift hand stopped him.

"No," he insisted. Pintel glared daggers at him. "We can get enough money off the streets to make it. We are a pair of pick pockets, after all."

The older man sighed and threw down the money. He picked up a bonnet and tugged it on around his ears. Ragetti happily tied a big floppy bow for him. Picking up a fine, and exceptionally pretty smelling perfume from Marita's vanity, he sprayed Pintel generously with it. The older pirate glowered at him, snatched the bottle away from him, and firmly put it back where it belonged.

"Come on, you brainless lump!" Pintel growled.

The younger man only shrugged, picked up his fan and parasol and followed his friend out. They went downstairs to the back door. Lucy came up to the older pirate with sad eyes and sniffed at him. The dog pulled back and suddenly sneezed. The stout little pirate frowned and shot a rather nasty look to the perpetrator of the scenting. Ragetti only grinned. Pintel squatted down to look his second best friend in the eye. (He wasn't sure if second place belonged to Lucy or it belonged to Ragetti. Rum won first place in his heart.) Not being as young as he used to be, nor as cursed as he used to be, he ended up on the floor on his butt. So, he sat there in a non ladylike way to talk to the dog.

"Now, listen 'ere, ye useless fleabag. Ye can't be goin' with us. The missus needs ye 'ere to protect them. Ye 'ear me?"

The dog whine pitifully and gave the man a big slobbery lick on the face. He slunked away sorrowfully.

"Gee! I di'n't know ya knew 'ow to speak dog, 'Enry!"

"Bah! 'Course I know 'ow to speak dog! I 'ave been married longer than I've known ye, boy!"

Ragetti gave that famous blank look and followed his companion out the back door.

PS, for you folks who love Marita. This isn't the end of her. It will be a few chapters before she comes in again, and she is none too happy with the fellows!