Title: Of the Sea Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 14. Raven
Summary: Back in Tortuga, Jack's plan doesn't go entirely according to plan.
Timeline: Sunday, June 5, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

"Jack, why are we back in Tortuga?"

"Because I want to be back in Tortuga, and as does the rest of the crew."

"With the exception of myself, who wasn't asked."

"You would have been outvoted anyway."

"What're you planning, Jack?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Why would you think I'm planning something?"

Matthew was nervous. Jack had turned the ship around and headed back to Tortuga without giving any real explanation, leaving her certain that he had something up his sleeve. The rest of the crew wouldn't question him, after all, they got a week's vacation, so why complain? It was their second night in Tortuga, and the fact that Jack consistently seemed to be hanging around her was only giving her more reason to be suspicious.

And now he had managed to drag her back into The Faithful Bride. The same offer she'd last made had not worked this time, and in fact, Jack had pulled the opposite ploy on her. He was paying for her drinks. He's a smart man, she thought, taking a gulp of rum. The tankard was nearing empty, and she knew she shouldn't drink so much.

"Why's the place make y'so nervous, Matt?" he asked.

"I'm not nervous. Just wary," she countered defensively. He smiled slowly. Blast him for knowing when he's right.

"Bootstrap an'I used t'come here all the time," Jack informed her, "used t'have the prettiest wenches, but they're all gone now."

"Bootstrap?" she asked, pretending not to know. Miriam knew Bootstrap and Jack used to drink here. She'd always been forbidden to serve them, when Jack was there, because Bootstrap insisted that she stay away from him.

"Aye. Bootstrap Bill Turner. Good man, good pirate. Y'met 'is son, Will Turner, that blacksmith, in Port Royal few weeks back."

"So I did."

"Want another drink?" he asked, noticing that she'd finished hers. She was frustrated, having wanted to hear more about Bootstrap from the man who had known him so well. She shook her head, taking the mug and standing up.

"I'll get it. I'll be back sharply, Cap'n."

It was halfway between the table and the bar that Miriam found herself pinned against the wall. A man had grabbed her painfully by the shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her against the brick. She winced, trying to strike him with the empty tankard, but he seized her wrist, digging nails into her skin. She dropped it and stared at her assailant.

"Roger," she said, her lip curling in distaste, "I wasn't expecting to run into you here." He was disgusting, his face smeared with dirt. His graying hair was greasy and too long, and it stunk of oil and pitch. His breath smelled of fish and cheap ale.

"N'r I ye, Ant'ny," he slurred, and she winced. He had not released her wrist. She offered a pained smile.

"What a coincidence," she commented, "now if you'll release me, I was just on my way to the bar..."

"Nah, I don' th'k I will. M'thinks y'should 'cmp'ny me t'me room." The hand that was not grasping her arm trailed roughly down her side suggestively. She tried to knee him in the crotch, but he pushed her body against hers so there was no room to maneuver. "Or we could do it righ' here."

Miriam was beginning to panic. She could feel her heart pounding within her chest, and the sweat on her brow. "Wasn't once enough," she spat, "or were you one of them that took me twice, you bastard?" She could not let him see her fear.

Another voice interjected. "I suggest you leave the boy alone." She recognized it, but in her fear-addled brain she couldn't decide who it belonged to. It almost sounded like Bootstrap, but it couldn't be. Her attacker turned to face the man addressing him, but Miriam still could not move.

"'S no boy," he drawled, "an' why should I?" There was no response to his question, but suddenly he reeled backward, and landed with a crash on the floor. Miriam could see that half of the tavern had turned to watch the skirmish. Jack was standing nearby, his fist clenched and smeared with blood, presumably from the bleeding nose of the man now laid out the floor.

"I said," he began again, walking over to his victim, and placing a booted foot over the man's crotch, slowly applying pressure, "that I would suggest... that you leave the boy alone, my good sir." Her assailant squirmed, seemed on the verge of crying out in pain. Captain Sparrow twisted his foot, grinding the man's privates beneath his heel. His prey groaned pathetically. "Don't mess with me crew, mate," he said, more for the benefit of those watching than for the injured party. He turned away, taking Matthew by the arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Why the hell did you do that, Jack?" she demanded, turning on him in the street, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

"It didn't look that way from where I was standing, love. 'Sides, a captain looks after 'is crew." They were standing outside the Faithful Bride now, and Matthew was upset. Damn, Jack cursed, can't the girl just be grateful?

"I don't need looking after, Captain." He started to walk away, firmly holding her wrist. Startled, she stumbled after him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm walking you home. Which way is it?"

"What? No!"

"Don't argue with me. As you just pointed out, I'm your captain, and I'm walking you home. Which way is it?" He was losing his temper. He saved her life, and he didn't even get a thank you. Instead, all he got was, 'Why the hell did you do that?' Because you're my crew, you damn fool woman, and I'm responsible for you. And you can't really expect me to believe you can defend yourself with a broken arm when you're pregnant!

She tried to twist her arm out of his grip, but he wouldn't release her. He simply looked at her, brows arched, waiting for answer. She groaned. "Let me go."

"No. Which way are we going, Matthew?" He wouldn't back down. Great, she thought, he chooses this moment to be a gentleman, and he forces me to go along with it.

"You're just as bad as they are," she hissed, and he turned on her. His dark eyes seemed almost hurt for a moment, but whatever sentiment she thought she had seen was quickly covered by an unreadable expression.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking out for your welfare. I am trying to protect you from people who, like them, would enjoy having their way with you."

"Fine. Go left."

She fumbled with the key. It was hard to unlock the door with only one hand. Jack was looking at her curiously. "Blasted thing," she muttered, and he took the key from her hand. She started to object, but the door was quickly unlocked and he nudged her inside, stepping in behind her. "Jack Sparrow!" she protested, but he simply closed the door. Neither noticed the light that flickered in the window of the house next door.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, as he took it upon himself to help her out of her coat. He unbuttoned it, pulled it off her shoulders, and threw it on a chair nearby. Beneath it, she was wearing a corset, because it was the only thing he'd been able to find that she could put on and take off without taking her arm out of the sling. It was only loosely tied, since it was employed more as a covering than a waist cincher.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Taking my clothes off?"

"Just the coat." He paused. "Sit down." She didn't know why, but she obeyed. Jack immediately set himself to work about the stove, though she couldn't see what the man was doing. "D'you have any rum?"

"In the cupboard, near the stove."

"Great." A few moments later, he sat next to her, a bottle of her best rum in his hand. She glared at him.

"I'm tired, drunk, in a lot of pain, I've been attacked and rescued against my will, and now you're helping yourself to my best rum," she commented, too tired to really do anything about any of the various ailments, "Not to mention the fact that my captain is making himself incredibly unwelcome in my house."

"Y'need t'sleep."

"Shut it, Jack."

"Why're you so angry, Matt?"

She drew a very deep breath, "Because I didn't want to go to the Faithful Bride, but you insisted, so I went along with it. Then someone tried to rape me, which wouldn't have happened if we'd just gone to the Horse and Groom, and you rescued me because you thought I was incapable of defending myself. To top it off, you insult me even further by insisting on walking me home, as if I can't walk on my own two feet, and you invite yourself in to my house without even asking me if it's alright for you to come in, when I've already told you I don't like my shipmates to come here."

He sighed. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked honestly, standing up again, and setting the rum down on a table.

Obviously, she hadn't been expecting that. She looked up at him helplessly. "I don't know," she murmured, "not really." He smiled, held out a hand to her, which she accepted. He pulled her up.

"Where d'you sleep?"

"Upstairs."

"C'mon then."

She didn't know what she wanted. What she really wanted was Bootstrap, because he always knew how to explain the situation in a way that would make sense, so she would make the right decision. He couldn't do that now. He'd be angry with me right now, he'd tell me to kick this man out of my house, and go to bed. But I don't want to be alone. The truth was that she was deeply disturbed. Now the crew of the Cain would know that she wasn't dead, and what was worse, they would know that she was most likely somewhere with Jack Sparrow. And that man, Roger, had tried to rape her again.

And now here she was, lying in her bed, with Jack Sparrow sitting on its edge, taking off his boots. Why? He heaved a sigh and looked over his shoulder at her. "Y'mind movin' over, Matthew?"

"What?"

"I said--"

"I meant why."

"Oh. So I can lay down, o'course."

What? This was too much. She could possibly forgive him for protecting her when she didn't want to be protected, and maybe even for inviting himself into her home when she didn't want him, but inviting himself into her bed? Apparently he sensed her discomfort.

"Look, it's late, and I don't want to walk back to the Pearl. You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine, we'll both go to sleep, and forget about it in the morning."

"Jack, screw off."

"I'd love to, but unfortunately I can't because I'm here instead of at the bar, where I'm sure a dozen lovely maids are aching for my company," he responded sarcastically.

"You're a rotten scallywag, Jack, and I don't like you."

"We're pirates. Remember." He sighed heavily, "Will you please move over, and let me sleep here tonight, and I swear I'll be nice?" When she didn't respond, he tried again. "I'll give you an extra fourth of a share next raid, an' next time we go drinking not only can you choose the location, but I'll pay. Please?"

It was more the second incentive that spurred her than the first, but she shifted towards the wall. "Thanks," he said, and laid down on his back next to her. The bed groaned softly as it adjusted to his weight. He blew out the candle.

It was dark. Miriam was uncomfortable. She could not remember the last time she had let a man into her bed, and at the time it had been enjoyable. This was not enjoyable. For his part, Jack was trying to figure out why he hadn't just gone back to the Pearl. Instead, he had crawled into bed with a woman who obviously wanted nothing to do with him at that particular moment, and he was paying her what could turn out to be a fortune to do so.

"Matthew?" he asked.

"What?" she demanded, and he winced. She was irritated.

"Why are you so upset that I tried to protect you?"

"Because, I can take care of myself, and because... never mind."

"Because what?"

"It's none of your business."

There was a long pause, and then Jack tried again. Somehow conversation, even tense conversation with Matthew who was angry at him, seemed more enjoyable than lying in awkward silence. "Maybe not, but I'd like to know."

"You still owe me, I'm not telling you anything more until you pay off your debt."

"But it wasn't true, so I don't owe you a damned thing."

"I said it was mostly true. I lied about my age, I'm twenty-nine, not twenty-eight, and I lied about my mother wanting me to go into business. She wanted me to learn to sew and cook and do girl things. And I left out some details, but other than that, yes, it was true, so you still owe me."

"Oh."

There was silence again, and Jack resigned himself to thinking about girls he'd rather be in bed with. Twelve years ago, there had been this beautiful girl at the Faithful Bride, a barmaid. He'd always wanted to talk to her, but Bootstrap had always told him off her. She'd been gorgeous, with subtle black curls, as dark as a raven's wing, slim shoulders and a slender frame. Her skin had held that perfect golden tan from hours in the sun, and her pale eyes had always sparkled as if she were laughing at something.

He'd seen her sometimes, standing on the pier by the Black Pearl, watching it sail away. Never had he been able to discover what she did there. He'd asked Bootstrap, who had merely told her, "She has business there." But it was well known that she didn't sell her body. She was potentially the most lovely girl in all Tortuga, and the most unattainable. No man was known who had tasted a kiss from her perfect lips.

She'd been called Raven. She'd disappeared nine years ago, no one knew where she'd gone. Some had said that Bootstrap had faked his death and they had run off together. Jack chuckled at the thought. Bootstrap had known the girl well enough, but wouldn't let Jack near her.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," he said, starting to stand up. Bootstrap grabbed his arm, pulled him back down. "Hey, what?"

"Not that 'un, mate. She's special," his companion told him, his hazel eyes gleaming as he watched her. Jack twisted his head to look at her, but Bootstrap spoke again, distracting his attention. "'Sides, a raven'll kill a sparrow, given half a chance."

"Oh, come off it, Bootstrap."

"I'm dead serious. And if she doesn't, I will."

"What do you have to do with her, anyway?"

"S'got nothin' to do with you, Sparrow." Jack knew when he was beat. Bootstrap wouldn't talk.

"Raven," he muttered the girl's name into the darkness, staring at the ceiling. He was met by a response he didn't expect.

"What do you want now, Sparrow?" the woman at his side demanded with a groan. There was a sudden pause, and she added, "How do you know that name?"

"What?" he asked her, confused. What did Miriam Sharp have to do with the young and beautiful barmaid in the Faithful Bride who had vanished? And why shouldn't he know that name? Why had she responded as if he'd said her name?

"Crap," was the only response he received. Unless...

"You're that barmaid from the Faithful Bride, aren't you?" he asked her, and was met only by a grunt that sounded vaguely like 'go to sleep'. But he wasn't willing to let it go. "Miriam?" he insisted

"Don't call me that."

"Aren't you?" he asked again. He turned his head and looked at her. She was staring resolutely at the ceiling.

"Yes, alright. I was, or am, or whatever. Raven Sparks. Mysteriously vanished nine years ago, no one knows what happened to her. Some say she was murdered or kidnapped because of her stunning beauty. Others say she and Bootstrap Bill Turner ran away together after he faked his own death," here she paused, her voice seeming almost sad. "Truth is, she cut off her hair, called herself Thomas Williams, and become a pirate, later known as Matthew Brown. There you go. Now shut up, and go to sleep."

"Bootstrap. You knew him, didn't you?"

"Aye. Who cares?"

"I do."

"I don't."

"Matthew, come on."

"What?"

Jack sighed heavily. Christ, he thought, this I was not expecting. And yet, it was an opportune moment, in a way. If he could get her to talk, maybe he'd be able to find out what was so 'special' about her, that Bootstrap wouldn't let him near her.

"Fine," she said.

Bootstrap Bill Turner, or William Turner, grew up in London, from what I understand. He was the son of one of my father's older friends. He spent a lot of the time with the family, though he was thirteen years older than I was. He actually met his future wife, Mary, at my parents' wedding. They were married nine years later, I was eight at the time. They had a son, William, who I used to play with. When both our fathers were out pretending to be merchant marines, our mothers would get together. I grew up with young Will Turner. When I was older, I would sometimes watch him for his mother.

Bootstrap sailed with us to the Caribbean after my mother died. My father wouldn't spend very much time with me during the voyage, probably because I reminded him to much of her. We looked very much alike. Instead of my father comforting me, it was usually Bootstrap. He started to call me Raven, because my hair was so dark and my skin so pale, at the time. He was an older brother, in many ways.

I'd always thought that he and my father sailed together, but he later revealed to me that he actually sailed aboard the Black Pearl, and that my father and he always pretended to sail on the same ship because it was convenient. After my father died, Bootstrap came in where he left off. Even though he was gone a lot, when he was around, we'd go sailing. He helped me find a job in the Faithful Bride, so long as I promised not to use my real name.

I decided to use Raven Sparks as my new name. Bootstrap approved of the choice. He used to defend me from the patrons who didn't know the meaning of "look but don't touch". I'd sit and have a drink or two with him, as long as you weren't there. He told me I couldn't serve him when he was with you, and that I should stay away from you, because even though you were a good man, you'd get me in trouble. So I did.

Whenever he went away, I would stand on the pier and watch the ship leave. It was my way of saying goodbye, though usually we didn't talk. I would just stand and watch, and you would sail away, and disappear over the horizon, and then I would go home.

When I was eighteen, you got the brilliant idea to go after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta. It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. That time, Bootstrap and I walked together to the pier, and I cried and he tried to comfort me. He said he'd be back, not to worry. I gave him a pair of gold earrings, because they're supposed to keep the wearer from drowning. Apparently it didn't work. He never came back.

For a year, I waited for his return. He never came. One night, when I was serving a group of men in the Faithful Bride, they talked about the Pearl. It was then that I learned that your crew had mutinied, and Bootstrap had been murdered. For ten years, I blamed you. I hated you for killing him, for dragging him with you to his death.

I don't blame you anymore. It was Barbossa who killed the man who became my second father. I stopped blaming you when you rescued me from the ocean, because--

Looking over, she saw that Jack had fallen asleep. She sighed. Drunken idiot, she thought. She pushed herself as close to the wall, and as far away from Jack, as she possibly could. Blast it all. In reality, Jack wasn't asleep, but it suited his purposes to appear that way, because she would never be sure when he had fallen asleep or how much he had heard. When he was sure she had fallen asleep herself, he allowed himself to drift off.

Author's note: I'm sorry I haven't responded to any reviews, won't let me see them. I really have to do my history homework now. Hope you enjoy the new chapter. It has one of the most common JackGirl clichés in it (the bedsharing bit) but I wanted it, so there. :P

Review Responses:

ChocolateEclar: You are far too nice to me! You really think I'm so brilliant that I've captures all the characters so well? Most of the crew is un(der)developed. I've only mentioned Quartetto, Anamaria, Gibbs and Marty by name, and then I haven't said much about them. Will and Elizabeth are amusing, I'll admit, but I haven't said much about Elizabeth. I really ought to write some more about them. I'm glad you think I've done such a great job with Jack; I'm very proud of my portrayal of him, even if I think some of the other characters require more work. I'm also very happy you like Matthew; I adore him... her... whatever. I'll update as soon as I can, chapter fifteen is giving me some trouble. Thank you so much for your review!

TheCap'nOfTheBlackPearl: I'm glad you like it! I will continue, I promise!

pingpong5: Ah yes. Raven, once hailed as the most beautiful girl in Tortuga. Disappeared, and for the most part forgotten. Apparently Jack remembers though!

heather321: I'm working on it!

Thank you EVERYBODY for all your wonderful reviews. It really means a lot to know that my story is appreciated. The new chapter will be up as soon as I can get it to make sense. I'm thinking about posting an interlude while I work on what will be chapter 15.