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"Maribelle, come into the parlor for a moment!" Mrs. Callum called. Maribelle, now twenty-five years old, came running up the stairs of their estate in Port Royal.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, coming into the doorway, where the Callums were both seated.

"Let me have a good look at you," said Mr. Callum. Maribelle put out her arms and spun around obligingly. "You're one of the finest young ladies in Port Royal," he said, nodding appraisingly. "And still you have yet to find an adequate husband."

"A time for everything, I guess," Maribelle laughed weakly, bowing her head in a tired nod. Her hair, free of any ornaments and beads, was up in a very proper, conservative bun.

"Yes, and my dear girl, that time is now!" Mrs. Callum said joyously, making Maribelle jump slightly. "We've just received correspondence that the governor is looking for a new mistress,"

"No," Maribelle said immediately, making both Mr. And Mrs. Callum's heads turn.

"Why, what ever do you mean?' Mrs. Callum said. "We expected you to be thrilled about this opportunity."

"Yes, it's quite an opportunity indeed, and I'm honored that the governor would consider my hand in marriage," Maribelle said timidly, "But I can't accept. I've been friends with his daughter Elizabeth ever since I arrived here, and to suddenly be her stepmother..." She cut herself off and cringed.

"But think of it," Mr. Callum said, standing up with a grand gesture. "Think of the life you could have,"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing, and I've never imagined anything farther from the life I wanted," she said, shaking her head. "I've always been grateful to you for taking me in, but I have yet to forget my real parents."

"I know you had very different dreams back then," Mrs. Callum said sympathetically. "But, darling, that is all they were. They were dreams, love, and naught else."

"The governor...he's so old!" Maribelle said desperately. "It's ridiculous! He could die any day, god forbid."

"Yes, and you'd receive half of the inheritance," Mr. Callum pointed out as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's all that's important to you, isn't it?" Maribelle snapped in frustration. "Honestly, you're even worse than any pirates I've ever heard of!" She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I'm not standing for this anymore. I'm old enough to go out on my own, and it honestly doesn't matter if I never get married!" She stormed out of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Callum thought of it as nothing but a tantrum until, nearly an hour later as they were having their evening meal, they heard the heavy thud of the front door opening and closing harshly.

Maribelle had lived her entire life since moving to Port Royal as a proper young lady. The only reminder she found of the life she had once envisioned for herself was the occasional chat with a disguised pirate who docked his ship in Port Royal out of necessity. She'd planned for this day so long, the day she'd finally start on with the rest of her life.

"Finally making good on your threats, are you?" said the owner of a small ship that Maribelle was approaching. "I was beginning to think you'd never find your way here."

"Take me to Tortuga?" she asked, pulling out her money bag.

"Ten shillings." The man shrugged.

"Five," Maribelle snapped back, threatening to put her money away and look elsewhere. "It's barely a night's journey to Tortuga, and that's not worth ten."

"You know the area well for someone who's never been off of the island," the sailor shrugged. Maribelle smirked as she climbed aboard and tossed him five shillings.

"Oy," the sailor said, peering his head into the cabin he had loaned out to Maribelle, who had fallen asleep. She rolled over and looked up groggily. "We're nearing Tortuga. Get yourself ready."

"Aye," she groaned. "I'm ready as I'll ever be." She swiped up her small canvas bag with clothes and other things of sentimental value and stepped outside.

She had been to Tortuga before, as a very small child. She remembered that brief time as she stepped off of the ship, eyeing the other ships of all sizes in the harbor. She had come with her father because she had begged, and promised not to get into trouble. Of course, being the boisterous, mischievous character she was, she ended up in a card game, winning a fattened chicken, a pair of boots, and a sack of chewing tobacco- -all of which her father took possession of as soon as they were back on the ship.

Tortuga had changed very little since she had seen it last, and Maribelle felt slightly familiar with the place. She needed to go see someone she had met on the run on the docks of Port Royal. She headed into one pub whose name sounded familiar and felt lucky to find the face she was looking for.

"Gibbs!" she said, yelling over the unruly crowd. "Do you have what I asked you for?'

"Aye, Miss Winthrop," he called out as she came to stand next to him. "It's been waiting, tied up back there for nearly a month. Thought ye'd never have the nerve to come for her."

"Well, here I am," she shrugged. "Is she just what I told you?"

"I made sure it was perfect," Gibbs nodded. "Ye paid me handsomely for, so's I got the job done right."

"Then let me see it," she said, crossing her arms.

"Aye, later," Gibbs laughed, "But first ye need to prove you're worthy of her." He reached over the counter and poured her a large helping of rum. "Drink up, if ye think ye are enough of a pirate,"

"Course I am!" Maribelle snapped, taking it and downing it as fast as she could. Gibbs nodded in disbelief. "I'll be needing a room to sleep in for the night, until I get my wits about me."

"Aye," Gibbs nodded. "I guess I owe ye for not calling the Commodore on me while I was in Port Royal."

"Damn right, you owe me," Maribelle said, picking up her bag. "I'm taking the first room I fin, savvy?"

"Aye," Gibbs said affirmingly. "Bring your things to a room, then come out and I'll show ye what ye paid for."

"Paid handsomely for," Maribelle said as she walked up the stairs.

The first door she found was unlocked, leading into an empty room. She threw her things onto the bed and practically flew down the stairs. Gibbs stood at the bottom of the stairs, laughing.

"Should've guessed you'd be anxious to see," he said, waving for her to follow him out. They walked out to the docks and he led her to a small ship. "Had it built to look just like your father's,"

"Cutlass Crow II," she muttered. "One day I'll sail it. One day I'll be what I wanted to be all my life."

"Why not now?" Gibbs asked. "Tortuga's full of pirates. With your father's reputation, ye'd have no problem finding a crew."

"I'm a girl," Maribelle laughed. "I honestly doubt anyone would choose to sail under me rather than a real pirate."

"Ye aren't the same little girl your father raised ye to be," Gibbs said, sticking out his jaw. "Proper life's been doing ye wrong."

"And I suppose I would have turned out better if I had stayed in the orphanage?" she asked miserably, looking out to the sea. "You knew my father well, Gibbs. The life he chose...I want it too. But I'm not the person I was born to be. I can't be that person without my father."

"He taught ye too well for you to forget it all," Gibbs said, shrugging. Maribelle looked at him oddly.

"Did I ever tell you about my only friend at the orphanage?" she asked.

"No," Gibbs said. "Never mentioned anyone you knew from that time."

"No one used to care much for me at the orphanage. I was odd," she continued. "I was fascinated by pirates, you see. I couldn't talk about anything else. Then, just after I arrived, a boy supposedly was found on the beach nearby with nothing but his name. He was a godsend. He listened to everything I ever said about pirates. We agreed to be pirates together, and have two ships. It was the perfect plan," Maribelle smiled reminiscently, staring out into the early morning sky. "I wonder what he'd be doing right now,"

"Do you know if any family ever took him?" Gibbs asked.

"Don't know," Maribelle shrugged. "I never spoke to him again after I left the orphanage. I heard he's made quite a name for himself now."

"Ye have?" Gibbs asked. "What business?"

"He's a pirate," Maribelle laughed, "He got exactly what we both wanted. Fancy that, eh?"

"What was his name?" Gibbs asked. "Maybe he's passed through here once or twice."

Maribelle's face flew to meet Gibbs's gaze brightly, her eyes shining with hope. She hadn't thought of the fact that her old friend might know this place. "Jack," she said, trying to mask her enthusiasm. "Jack Sparrow,"

"Bloody hell!" Gibbs swore loudly. "Ye should've spoken up quicker! He's 'ere right now! I'll take ye to see him right now! He didn't find himself a whore in the pub last night, so he shouldn't be havin' any company."

"Oh, no, no, no," Maribelle said quickly, jumping back. "You must be completely mad, Gibbs. I can't see him again. He probably wouldn't even remember me."

"Might be good if he didn't," Gibbs smirked. "If he didn't then ye could start again...more romantically. The women go mad for ole Jack."

"Once again, NO!" Maribelle insisted. "You can't honestly want me to look him in the face now,"

"Just go see him," Gibbs insisted. "He's probably drunk out of his wits anyhow. If he gets angry, he'll most likely forget about it by tonight,"

"Should I really do it?" Maribelle asked unsurely, pulling her hair free and letting it blow freely in the early morning breeze. Gibbs nodded.

"Ye may regret it if ye don't," Gibbs asked. "Ye owe it to the man to let him know you're all right, if you were as close as you say,"

"You're right," Maribelle nodded, blinking awkwardly. "Take me to him?"

Gibbs nodded, and Maribelle followed him back inside, up the stairs, and down the hall until Gibbs stopped in front of a door to one of the larger rooms. "He's in there." Maribelle nodded and gestured for him to leave.

And now, she stood on the threshold of a new frontier. One that would force her to face her past...