Bear with the background at the beginning, the story gets better after the intro… if it looks it's familiar, it's because it used to be one of my "you" stories, and was deleted, but I liked the plot line in my mind so I decided to rewrite it. Enjoy, and please R&R!

Rae's elderly grandfather died over six months ago, and he had left his property and finances under control of her father, with the request that she be bought a house. She had always dreamed of having one, and now, it was finally hers. The deed had been signed that afternoon. The seller tried to persuade her father out of it, for it was almost unheard of for a twenty-four year old single woman to have her own house. Her father was still mad about Rae's treatment of her last fiancée, so he actually agreed to her moving out. And so, it happened.

The house was barely furnished, and slightly small. But it did have a basement. As Rae now looked around, she recalled how her father said he had put several presents down there for when she got lonely.

The house had a small stable it the back as well, which is what made her fall in love with the house in the first place. She loved horses, so a stable was the perfect place to house her chestnut mare. She was paid quite well by the governor and other titled persons to carry messages and/or packages to and from towns on her horse. That money she made, and had saved, would be able to go into her house now. Not that she had a lot of time. Finally moving out of her parents' house, she had gotten a job from one of the wealthiest women in town, Mrs. Mainman. But she would be a governess for her children. Not exactly glamorous. But, she needed to be self-supporting, and this was the only thing that would do so for the moment.

Rae watched the door as her father and mother exited the house, finally leaving her alone. She savored the silence, as her parents could be boisterous sometimes, and picked up the pistol on her bookshelf. The room was slightly empty, but she didn't mind much. What she lacked in furniture, she made up in books. She had everything, from Anne Bradstreet's anthologies of poetry to Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. They were mostly presents from her parents, but every once in a while the cute bookshop keeper whom she was fond of gave her a present. She polished the pistol in her hand, made a mental note to practice with it tomorrow, and then placed it down on the table. Although no woman she knew shot or carried a pistol, her father insisted she did, for some reason.

Actually, she knew the real reason he had insisted it; the house had one flaw. It was situated right next to a bar. The Dancing Devil, no less. Every night, off key notes were sung, brawls instigated, and at the extremely late hours of night, drunks were expelled, free to roam the town. She had hoped it wouldn't be much of a problem, but now she felt that she might have been a little too naive. She pulled aside the curtain peeked out her window- dusk was setting in- and watched the rough crowd piling into the bar. She closed the curtains, shuddering slightly. To take her mind off of the uncomfortable feeling, she lit a candle and placed it on the stand next to her chair. Then she took one of her favorite books off of her shelf, The Canterbury Tales, and read it in her chair, until when in the late hours of the night, she fell asleep with the book still in her hands.

A large slam of the door awoke her with a start. She gazed around, evaluating the situation. The candle had long since burnt out, and it was still dark, so she knew it must be late. "I must have fallen asleep reading!" she thought. "And forgotten the lock the door." She grabbed her pistol, which happened to be sitting on the table. She couldn't hear anything more, so she just stood there, unable to move with fear. The room's door opened, and she could see the silhouette of a man. A very drunk man who could barely stand up straight. She calmly pointed the gun at him.

"'Ello, luv," the man said smoothly.

"Get out of my house." She said it as harshly as she could, but her voice sounded kind of shaky and high pitched. The man took another step towards her.

She cocked the gun. The man glanced over, swayed back and forth a few times, and then collapsed. She walked over the body, unsure what had happened. She hadn't pulled the trigger. As she glanced at him, she noticed his chest was still rising and falling, so he wasn't dead. Just thoroughly inebriated she guessed. Not wanting to have a drunken man in her house all night, she uncocked the gun, put it on the table, and rolled up her sleeves. She grabbed the man's boots, and tried to drag him out. He was heavier than he looked. But, after about fifteen minutes, she had him out of her house, on the doorstep. She kind of felt bad for dumping him outside; he was kind of handsome. She wiped the dirt from her hands, shut the door, and locked it. She couldn't help thinking about the visitor, who didn't seem to want to hurt her. Little did she know, she would be seeing a lot of him in the future.

She awoke early the next morning, before dawn, her neck sore from the position she fell asleep in. She massaged it gently, and recalled the events of last night. She groaned, thinking about the drunken man. She got up, and put on her riding habit. She walked into her foyer, and paused slightly as her hand graced the handle of the front door. To open, or not? It wouldn't do for a noble person, trying to get her to deliver something, to come and see the drunkard passed out on her step. People would talk. She sighed inaudibly, and opened it. The man was still there, face down. She nudged him gently with her foot, and rolled him on his back. He groaned loudly, and his eyes fluttered open, revealing very chocolate brown eyes. She smiled. Even in the dim light of the sun that was rising as she stood there, Rae could see that he was grungy, sandy, and miskept, but his eyes were beautiful, normal. He sat up, and she wiped the smile from her face before he could see it, for even though his eyes were fascinating, she had no idea what type of person he was. The man looked dazed for a few moments, and then held out his hand.

Rae stared at it for several moments, hesitant to do anything. "Darling," he said, "Beg your pardon, are you going to stand there all day or help me up?"

Her eyebrows rose as she took it, and he pulled himself up. "Thanks." He saw her utterly bewildered face. "Do us a favor, and tell me, what am I doing here?"

She finally found her voice. "You actually barged in my house last night, drunk. You passed out on my floor."

He scratched the side of his face. "Hmm. Terribly sorry about that, luv. How did I get out here, on your step? Did you throw me out?" She nodded. "That's interesting."

"My name is Rae." The man smiled.

"Is that so? Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please." He reached for her hand, and tried to kiss it, but she pulled it away before he could bring it up to his lips.

"Hardly proper, Captain Sparrow. I barely know you."

He grinned impishly. "I couldn't resist. I didn't scare you last night, did I? I really am sorry about that, I had a rough night."

"Well, a mite. I almost shot you, you know?"

"And I thought that was a dream. I must have been even more drunk than usual." He bent over and picked up his tricorner hat of the ground, dusted it off, and placed it on his head. She took in the full effect of him for the first time, and placed things together.

"You're . . . a pirate!"

"Thank you for informing me." He brushed the dust off of his breeches. "I swear, you town folk are all the same."

"I resent that remark."

He shrugged. "I'll inform the King."

The sun was starting to rise even higher, time had sure flown by past!

"You must excuse me, Captain, it will soon be morn, and I must tend to my horse, and my duties."

"You mean that you people will be up soon, and you don't want them to see us together," he said softly.

Okay, he's dashing and smart. "That's part of it, Captain Sparrow. People talk." She receded back into her doorway, and was the process of closing her door when Jack stopped it with his hand.

"You won't be getting away that easily, milady." He then released his hand and walked off, leaving her to shut the door, in a slight state of shock by his brazenness.

I love dialog. Jack is just so darn witty. And I love that I just finished all of my college applications. But about this story… like it? Love it? Hate it? Please tell me!