Alinnya bit her lip, looking out the window of the carriage at the grand mansion before her. Jack leaned over beside her, kissing her neck reverently.
"Beautiful, ain't it love?"
"What are you going to do when someone recognizes me?"
"Should they? You've been gone for seven years, love. To them, you're dead."
"Let us hope," she looked at him, biting her lip.
"I need you to trust me, love," he settled his chin on her shoulder. "Nothing will happen, and if it does, I'll get you out."
"I know." She leaned back against him. "Don't do anything stupid."
"Yes, mi'lady." He stood and opened the door, helping her out of the carriage as she hastily brushed her skirts. She tossed her head and put on the most snobbish air she knew how, and smiled at Jack, who chuckled at her, fixing his hat in place. He offered her his arm, and she took it gracefully, and thus began the one night of the life that Alinnya should have lived.
***
Dinner went well enough. Jack sat next to her, and she was quiet, after a few attempts at conversation in rather animated French. She broke in coarse and very broken English, and shortly after, though still civil and willing to listen to her jabber, it was quite clear that no one understood her, and she silenced herself to eat, Jack following her lead with the intricate silverware. She'd decided that she almost enjoyed the life she was supposed to be living, though she kept an eye out lower down the table for anyone who might recognize her. She had always been told she looked quite like her father, and would hate for the similarity to be remarked on, and their ruse discovered. Nevertheless, Jack acted the part well, escorting her everywhere within the manor, opening doors, pulling out chairs, taking her coat, and attempting to speak with her in a very broken French. She knew he was enjoying himself immensely from the look in his eyes. It was only commented once how inseparable the two seemed, and he brushed it off easily. She was his charge, after all.

That was how she found herself standing against the wall in the grand ballroom, watching Jack waltz the ladies of the court around the room. She smiled faintly, playing with the ring on her finger, as she watched. They were enthralled with his charm, his boldness. And she could not blame them. He stood out in the room like a blood red rose in a sea of daisies. Exotic, erotic, and ever dangerous. His eyes caught hers as the dance ended, and he slid over to her place on the wall, extending his hand.

"It seems, mi'lady, that I shall have to request this dance, if I may."

"You may," she replied, her voice little more than a whisper. He took her hand, kissing her wrist right over the branding. He led her onto the dance floor, bringing one hand around her waist as the other clasped hers firmly. She looked in his eyes as the music started- something a little faster than a waltz. He gave her a dashing smile, and away they went. He was pleasantly surprised at her ability to keep up with him, step for step. When the music stopped, he stepped back, kissing her hand, the smile in his eyes promising more. Later.

***

"Time to go, love," she felt jack grab her by the arm and drag her toward the door.

"What happened?" she asked, trotting beside him as quickly as she could, down the street.

"Someone informed the East India Trading Company that we weren't… exactly who we were, savvy? They came through the back door. We left through the front."

"I need to get out of this damned dress," she hissed, looking around the empty street.

"Well love, when you put it that way-" he smiled as she turned to face him, stopping mid- sentence as she realized he was kidding. "You do look ravishing."

"Good enough to eat?" she smiled back.

"To relish," he lilted, eyebrows rising suggestively.

"Hold on," she stepped inside a small building, arguing with someone in terse French. Jack watched the street, warily. She'd never admit it to her, but that had been far to close a scrape for comfort. He didn't know how close they still were.

Wait- now he did."

"Alinnya, love, hurry," he snarled through the door, ducking into the darkness of the doorway as close as he could, praying the redcoats would just claim the street was deserted. He felt her breath on his neck as she kept the doorway closed behind him.

"We'll have to bolt for it," she breathed.

"Aye," he whispered back. "Keep to the code."

"Which code?" her snarl was almost inaudible. "I'm writing my own code, Captain, thank you very much."

"Go," he whispered to her, racing through the deserted street in the moment where most of the redcoats were arguing. No sense waiting.

But God, his boots had never seemed so loud.

Alinnya was right behind him. He could hear her breathing right behind him, the redcoats yelling, shot's being fired…

The pain hit his right shoulder like some bat out of Hell, and he stumbled to his knees, crying out with pain. She slid, skidding to a stop and falling as she tried to turn simultaneously, trying to help him back to his feet.

"Go!" he roared, wincing in pain. "One of us love, not both."

She looked up at the approaching redcoats and back to his eyes. "I'll be back for you," she swore, kissing him roughly, before he shoved her and she bolted. A few shots were fired at her, but she as already gone.

"At least one will dance the hemp jig for us tomorrow morning," Jack heard vaguely behind him, and he smirked in laughter before everything went black.

***

"Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!" Alinnya's screams were loud enough to wake the dead, or at least a drunken crew. "Man the ship and get ready to sail. NOW, say I!"

She stumbled back to the captain's quarters, slinging off the borrowed trousers for something that fit infinitely better. She slid a bandana similar to Jack's over her head, and set two cutlasses around her waist, then stopped. She threw a large, plain dress over the shirt and trousers, and a broad cloak over that, stuffing it with two pistols, and the swords, and checked her hair. She walked back out on deck twenty minutes later to find the whole crew staring at her.

"Get the damn boat ready to sail," she growled, "Or I'll send all of you to see old Hob. And you'll end up with me as a captain. Josh," she called, walking toward the gangplank.

"What happened?" he asked, tired and nervous.

"East India got him," her face contorted with anger and guilt at the words. "Now listen. Go due south, follow the coast, it's deep pretty close. Past the point, not five miles, at the tail end of the city near the jail, there's a cliff. If we aren't there by dawn, leave. Don't you dare look back."

And with that, she was gone.