A/N- I won't even bother apologizing for how late this is, you know the
drill. ^^;;; More huggles to Silva, just because I feel like huggling
something.
*~*~*
~AnaMaria's P.O.V.~
Funny, the things you hold onto after seven years. Actually, it'd be more like eight, or maybe even nine now, but I couldn't say I was counting. They say time flies when you're having fun, and I was always enjoying myself with Jack. I hadn't thought about this for a while, but I certainly wasn't tired, and I was alone, and my mind began to wander.
I grew up in London, serving as a maid and cook at an inn. I was nineteen the year that Jack showed up in the middle of the night during a summer storm, and it wasn't exactly a memorable entrance. The skies were pouring down rain, although it wasn't cold outside. I wasn't tired at all, and had been trying to fall asleep on my bed upstairs when I decided it was hopeless, and grabbed a broom and began to sweep downstairs for the third time that night. The main room was large, with the few candles that still burned shedding a warm glow upon the wood walls, giving them a rich, gold color. Circular tables appeared within little distance of another, three chairs at each. There was a door, which led to the kitchen, and a stairway leading to the rooms.
It wasn't the ideal life, nor one I would have led, given the choice, but I had no living family, and this gave me a roof over my head, and food to eat, and though I desired more, beggars can't choose. I wasn't interested in England in the slightest; I had no intention of spending my life here, and then I heard the tales of the Caribbean, and of how many were leaving to go to some Port Royal. This interested me, though there wasn't anything I could do about it. I had no way to support myself. Amidst the thoughts, I heard a knock, and I paused, wondering if I should open it. It was awfully late, and I had my doubts about whether or not it was such a smart idea to let someone in, particularly because I was by myself. However, I wasn't going to let someone stay out in the rain, so hesitantly, I opened the door, and in stumbled Jack. Anyone could have told he was drunk, and there was a cut on the side of his face that wasn't serious, but could have used cleaning up. I gave him a chair to sit in, while I boiled some water to clean the gash, and gave him my bed to sleep in that night. I didn't know exactly what to do, but I stayed with the stranger all night, sitting next to my bedroom window, and listening to the rain beat relentlessly on the roof above me.
I awoke the next morning with my head resting on the windowsill, the clouds deciding to stay for the day as well. There was a little light, but not much, and even the afternoon, he had not woken. I was given the day off, a rare occurrence, so I could look after him, and when he finally came around, I swear I'll never forget the first thing he said to me, as long as I live;
"Where in seven hells am I?"
I didn't know it then, but meeting him was the beginning of my new life. I told him what had happened, and we exchanged names. We didn't talk much that day and all that really happened was he sleeping the hangover off, and eating little for dinner. The next day proved to be far more interesting, and although I had to help run the inn, I had a chance to carry on a decent conversation over dinner that night. Jack Sparrow had a strong sense of adventure and a love of rum, and was free spirited and overall the most interesting person to walk through the doors of the inn. The owners, gave him a job there, and were soon swayed by his charm. For a month and a half, he stayed. He would talk about sailing away from England and how he'd seen so many things in his lifetime of twenty-three years. Even confiding in me that he was a pirate. It seemed a little odd, to be sure, but I believed him nonetheless. Then one night, he said he was leaving on a ship to the Caribbean early in the morning, asking if I wanted to come, telling me this would be my chance to do something more with my life that just being a maid, and how he'd look after me. That was the night a left England, and sailed to the Caribbean. I was nervous and anxious, but Jack did hat he promised- he looked after me, and when we docked in Port Royal, he was immediately arrested for piracy. He was dragged off to the prison, and I hadn't any idea what I was supposed to do, besides try to break him out. So one night, I stole the keys. Now, if I look back, I don't see it as any big deal, compared to what I've been doing now, but as I put the key through the lock, my hands were shaking.
We walked down to the docks once more, hoping that nobody would see us in the moonlight, and thankfully, this prayer was answered. I didn't understand what was going on, when a cloaked man came up to him, and Jack handed him a few coins. We paid for passage to Tortuga, where, Jack said, his ship was waiting for him. At this point, I had no idea what was going to happen, but just before we left Port Royal, he whispered "Do you want to become a pirate?"
I couldn't do more than grin up at him.
*~*~*
I hated that town.
I really, really hated that town.
But with Jack looking out for me, I felt safer, at least.
But, that changed when Barbossa's crew showed up asking to join Jack on his venture. He asked, but they refused, and the last I saw of him for eight years was him on the Black Pearl, waving goodbye to me, and shouting that he'd come back for me, swearing it on his mother's grave.
So, now that I'm finally back with you, Jack, and you come back on board with your gun cocked and ready, I can't help but wonder;
What in the blazes have you done?
*~*~*
~AnaMaria's P.O.V.~
Funny, the things you hold onto after seven years. Actually, it'd be more like eight, or maybe even nine now, but I couldn't say I was counting. They say time flies when you're having fun, and I was always enjoying myself with Jack. I hadn't thought about this for a while, but I certainly wasn't tired, and I was alone, and my mind began to wander.
I grew up in London, serving as a maid and cook at an inn. I was nineteen the year that Jack showed up in the middle of the night during a summer storm, and it wasn't exactly a memorable entrance. The skies were pouring down rain, although it wasn't cold outside. I wasn't tired at all, and had been trying to fall asleep on my bed upstairs when I decided it was hopeless, and grabbed a broom and began to sweep downstairs for the third time that night. The main room was large, with the few candles that still burned shedding a warm glow upon the wood walls, giving them a rich, gold color. Circular tables appeared within little distance of another, three chairs at each. There was a door, which led to the kitchen, and a stairway leading to the rooms.
It wasn't the ideal life, nor one I would have led, given the choice, but I had no living family, and this gave me a roof over my head, and food to eat, and though I desired more, beggars can't choose. I wasn't interested in England in the slightest; I had no intention of spending my life here, and then I heard the tales of the Caribbean, and of how many were leaving to go to some Port Royal. This interested me, though there wasn't anything I could do about it. I had no way to support myself. Amidst the thoughts, I heard a knock, and I paused, wondering if I should open it. It was awfully late, and I had my doubts about whether or not it was such a smart idea to let someone in, particularly because I was by myself. However, I wasn't going to let someone stay out in the rain, so hesitantly, I opened the door, and in stumbled Jack. Anyone could have told he was drunk, and there was a cut on the side of his face that wasn't serious, but could have used cleaning up. I gave him a chair to sit in, while I boiled some water to clean the gash, and gave him my bed to sleep in that night. I didn't know exactly what to do, but I stayed with the stranger all night, sitting next to my bedroom window, and listening to the rain beat relentlessly on the roof above me.
I awoke the next morning with my head resting on the windowsill, the clouds deciding to stay for the day as well. There was a little light, but not much, and even the afternoon, he had not woken. I was given the day off, a rare occurrence, so I could look after him, and when he finally came around, I swear I'll never forget the first thing he said to me, as long as I live;
"Where in seven hells am I?"
I didn't know it then, but meeting him was the beginning of my new life. I told him what had happened, and we exchanged names. We didn't talk much that day and all that really happened was he sleeping the hangover off, and eating little for dinner. The next day proved to be far more interesting, and although I had to help run the inn, I had a chance to carry on a decent conversation over dinner that night. Jack Sparrow had a strong sense of adventure and a love of rum, and was free spirited and overall the most interesting person to walk through the doors of the inn. The owners, gave him a job there, and were soon swayed by his charm. For a month and a half, he stayed. He would talk about sailing away from England and how he'd seen so many things in his lifetime of twenty-three years. Even confiding in me that he was a pirate. It seemed a little odd, to be sure, but I believed him nonetheless. Then one night, he said he was leaving on a ship to the Caribbean early in the morning, asking if I wanted to come, telling me this would be my chance to do something more with my life that just being a maid, and how he'd look after me. That was the night a left England, and sailed to the Caribbean. I was nervous and anxious, but Jack did hat he promised- he looked after me, and when we docked in Port Royal, he was immediately arrested for piracy. He was dragged off to the prison, and I hadn't any idea what I was supposed to do, besides try to break him out. So one night, I stole the keys. Now, if I look back, I don't see it as any big deal, compared to what I've been doing now, but as I put the key through the lock, my hands were shaking.
We walked down to the docks once more, hoping that nobody would see us in the moonlight, and thankfully, this prayer was answered. I didn't understand what was going on, when a cloaked man came up to him, and Jack handed him a few coins. We paid for passage to Tortuga, where, Jack said, his ship was waiting for him. At this point, I had no idea what was going to happen, but just before we left Port Royal, he whispered "Do you want to become a pirate?"
I couldn't do more than grin up at him.
*~*~*
I hated that town.
I really, really hated that town.
But with Jack looking out for me, I felt safer, at least.
But, that changed when Barbossa's crew showed up asking to join Jack on his venture. He asked, but they refused, and the last I saw of him for eight years was him on the Black Pearl, waving goodbye to me, and shouting that he'd come back for me, swearing it on his mother's grave.
So, now that I'm finally back with you, Jack, and you come back on board with your gun cocked and ready, I can't help but wonder;
What in the blazes have you done?