[A/N- I want everyone to go read A.H.Smith's story, in my Fav's, and review! This poor girl's only got three reviews, and they're all mine! And I love that story- would I send you, oh my marvelous reviewers, whom I praise, to read a bad one? Thanks for being so patient with me, I'm going to clear up a few misunderstandings- whenever I put a huge chunk of text in italics, it's either a memory or a dream. In that case it was a memory, a response to your request for more detail on Jack's rescue, Ani. I shoulda made that more clear. Yeah, it's fast paced, but it's going to slow down for a little. I hope you like this chapter. Kudos to those of you who understand the line about the Black Pearl's name in the first chapter.]

Alinnya's arm still hurt, but the swelling had gone down, and her fever had mostly broken, but the shaman insisted she stay at the house, and had allowed her to sit on the back porch, reading his collection of books contentedly. She'd eaten a little, read some, and slept, but mostly just sat and thought. Something was different. It was as though that slash through her wrist, through the branding that had defined her treatment for most of her life. She'd been twelve when she'd been given that brand, and now without it, she wasn't sure if the same person was in her skin. Free. She tested the word on her lips. Granted, she wasn't paid off, yet, but she was free. She could go get drunk as hell if she wanted, she could walk out of a man's hold without fear of a backlash she couldn't react to.

She could get onto the first ship leaving port, and never look back, and no one would be the wiser.

Probably the worst part was that she'd never actually been able to make a conscious decision on her own, now that she could, she had no idea what to do. She could go home, disguise the brand from her family, or whatever was left of it, and go into upper middle class, be a true lady, wed and childbearing, eating with the right fork and wearing the proper dress. She could get her own ship… no. She couldn't be a captain, and she was well aware of that. She hadn't the audacity, nor the political subtlety. She didn't want to. She didn't really know what she wanted to do. All she knew was sailing. She was too plain to be put into another dress and waltzed around the room, and too proud to be a whore. She may as well stay with Jack, for now.

Jack.

She still didn't really understand why she'd gotten back off that ship for him, gone to that dance for him, helped him escape once, then gone back and gone after him again. She was not the type to do that. Any man who falls behind is fuckin' dead or worse. But something about the idea of Jack's feet swinging in the air made her heart- a muscle she'd long forgotten having- lurch. And she hated the feeling.

"It's a beautiful sunset," Jack's voice by her ear caught her off guard, and she turned to look at him. "But it's certainly not worth crying over."

With that, he brushed a pair of loose tears from her cheeks, his heart falling dejectedly. Would that ever leave? As soon as the first syllable had left his mouth, her hand had gone for a pistol that wasn't there. Would she forever be so defensive? Was there nothing he could do to change that?

She turned back to the sunset for a moment, taking a deep breath. He could read her face so well now, and it unnerved him. The intense scowl into nothingness was not a sign of anger at all, but her full concentration on some minor detail that wasn't working somewhere. Right now her face was furrowed in pain and confusion. He understood the man's words, now. The girl could barely shoulder the weight of her own heartaches, how could he be selfish enough to demand his desires on it. The grand scheme he had planned died on his lips. She could wait to know how much he loved her.

"Don't ya want your present, love?" she turned back to him, her brow furrowing in confusion, as he pulled the small silver chain out of his pocket.

"Why are you getting me a necklace?" she asked quietly, as he clasped it behind her neck.

"I promised you pearls, love," he smiled quietly, holding the small stone at the end of the chain before her. "The finest in Singapore. They say black pearls hold within them the heart of a pirate, as rare and precious as any diamond." He smiled, looking at her. "It's why we're such a cold lot, as a maiden somewhere in London has all our hearts strung on her neck, not knowing the treasure she possesses. This one, I thought, should be yours."

She sat, and reached out, her hand covering his around the small round object, and for a brief moment in time, Jack thought he'd need never say those damned words, nor hear them from her, provided she could look at him with that open an expression forever.