Spun

by : epiphanies

Part Two

-

The world spun and the sun rose over the dappled shore, and Aurolyn squinted into it, holding a hand to her eyes.

That, whatever it was, that she had been drinking the night before... she couldn't....for she had such a terrible headache ... had she walked home herself... and had she spoken with a real, honest-to-goodness pirate?

She stood and glanced into the looking glass. She made a face at her darkening skin and her dishevelled blonde hair. She looked a mess, complete with the dark circles beneath her eyes, which refused to disappear even after she scrubbed and scrubbed.

-

Captain Jack Sparrow awoke to a rather unpleasant surprise.

"Anamaria!" he gasped, staring into the exotic brown eyes that had been haunting him - literally, she was a monster, the object of his nightmares at points in his life - since the day they'd met, fourteen years before when she'd been only thirteen. She was so pretty then - one could hardly tell of the little lady she had once been now. Rugged and manly was more a term to describe Anamaria, but one dared not to tell her that.

She had perched upon his leather red stool that was beside his bed in the Captain's Chamber, crossed her legs and folded her arms. How long had she been staring at him?

"Jack."

He sniffed himself - smelled normal. He glanced at himself - completely clothed. He tried to remember the evening before - to no avail.

"You're angry with me," he squinted at her, as the sunlight had just begun to pour into the chamber. She glared at him.

"What?" he sighed, exasperated, "Did I steal another one of your ships?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Aye, that would be like you."

He raised his eyebrows, "Well?"

She cocked her head, "You've no memory of last night in the pub, do you?"

"I must admit that, no, I most certainly do not."

"You made yourself a fool."

"Astounding, Ana, simply moving."

She smacked him lightly on the cheek, and it hurt. It really hurt. He touched his cheek and frowned. She grinned at him.

"Do you remember now?"

He shook his head, touching his stinging cheek, "Did you beat me?"

"Can't say I didn't want to."

"You're daft, woman. Tell me what I did wrong so that I can walk the plank for it in peace."

She hit him again,

"You're not the kind of man who doesn't remember things when he gets lovelier," she looked skeptically at him, "Any man of your particular ilk."

##

"And what particular ilk is that, Missy?"

"You're a pirate."

##

"Ah," he said softly, touching his cheek, "The London lass."

"You followed her home, Jack," Anamaria shook her head at him, "You're becoming more a danger to yourself every evenin'."

He frowned, "How so?"

Anamaria rolled her eyes, "Jack, you dog, she's most likely the child of some rich english poofter who wouldn't waste a second blastin' your ruddy head off. You coulda had yourself killed."

He shrugged, "It would be your ship then, wouldn't it?"

She hit him again.

"Ouch!" he called as he flopped down into the bed again as she shut the door behind her.

His eyes roamed about the chamber for a moment as he tried to remember what the young woman had looked like - blonde hair, London dress. Green, perhaps blue eyes? A mole on the left side - well, her right, his left - of her neck. Clean fingernails and a pouting mouth - or perhaps it was only pouting because he had followed her home - no, not home. To a room, where she was staying.

He bolted upright and smirked at the door.

Anamaria had no idea what she'd done.

-



Well, she looked better than when she'd woken up, she supposed. She'd changed into a silken sashed gown with brass buttons and lace covering a more revealing part of her bosom. It was the colour of Japanese blossoms, her father had said, and she could only trust to believe him.

Deciding to get a drink - hopefully something less hard than the night before had entertained - she left her room to head over to the pub. She hadn't gotten two inches into the street before she was literally run down by a running man. When they collided, they both seemed to fall over.

She didn't notice him until he rose and held out his hand. She took it, the sun in her eyes, and half-smiled.

When she locked eyes with the stranger, the smile slipped off of her face.

"You," she hissed, pulling her hand away, "Get off me!"

His eyes widened, "Begging your pardon, Miss. Didn't mean to run you down."

"I'm sure," she said icily, "Well, I'll be on my way."

"Your way?" he said dubiously as she tried to pass him, "Where is Your Way? Is it like My Way only yours? Or does anybody really have a way?"

She stopped and glared at him, but he only continued, "I mean, what a way away from another way? It could be yours, it could be mine, it could be ours," his eyes widened as he beckoned to a man sitting in an alley corner, covered in hay, "Maybe it was even his way, before he turned into a useless lump. Hell, darling, perhaps it's nobody's way at all."

"Perhaps," she said with gritted teeth, "You should get out of -my- way so that I don't throttle you until your head pops like a bottle of warm champagne."

He smirked, displaying a full row of golden teeth.

"I like you," he decided, pointing at her as she rolled her eyes, "You've got gal."

She pushed past him into the busy street, but somehow he kept to her elbow.

"So, darling, have you a name?"

"Pirates aren't proficient in foreseeing where and when they're unwanted, are they not?"

"Ah, but love," he stopped her and stood close, close enough that she could smell his breath, which ranked of gin and pepper and rum, "Pirates are wanted everywhere, because pirates have treasure."

"I see little on you that is worth anything, save your teeth."

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, darling," he smiled, letting her go, "Remember that."

With that statement, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her there alone and completely mystified.





-



Prrrp. I don't understand why people flame. I really don't. It's rude and actually kind of the softer kind of evil. But, alas, I am used to it and therefore it does not affect me. However, it does affect other writers I know, so I suggest that all of you very bored morons out there who insist on flaming continue to do so to me, and not to the rest of this very fragile population of writers here on ff.net, where people are supposed to be able to write what they want without repercussions. And hey, I've been trying to figure out what a Mary Sue is ever since I came on this site, so if I'm writing one I have saved myself the search (so thanks!)