Disclaimer: I do not -sob- have permission to be writing this...savvy?

AN (12/24): "Merry Christmas, loyal reviewers! Merry Christmas, people who read this and don't leave their comments! Merry Christmas, Jack!" I just watched It's a Wonderful Life for the first time in my life...good movie, tis. Anyway, I wish you all a very merry Christmas, and I hope that you enjoy this sequel to All Hallow's Eve. The title is subject to change. Anyone who tells me what tis from gets...a special Christmas present!

One More Day: Chapter One

"Wow," she said softly, glancing around the quiet (well, relatively quiet) alleyway as she touched the tavern wall in front of her, as though checking to make sure that the building that had suddenly materialized in front of her was real. The whole process had been a bit nauseating, to say the least, and I couldn't believe she'd actually touched that wall.

"D' ye 'ave t' touch that?" I asked suddenly, cringing inwardly as her fingertips probed the wall for a moment, feeling the contours of the brick. The overall decibel level here was quite loud (in comparison to the deathly silence of the graveyard) and full of sounds I loved. Bawdy women chasing drunkards...fights erupting in the middle of the street...the "screams" of "innocent" strumpets...how could a man not like Tortuga? However, now that I had-I still couldn't believe it-a bonny lass, I probably wouldn't be able to stay up all night getting drunk on women and rum. What a pity.

"Of course I don't have to touch it," she replied with that impish little smile that actually made my heart flutter. "Why? Ya got a problem with me touching things?" If only she knew what a minx she was! She surely would've played harder to get, and I probably would've had a broken jaw by now, from her slaps...

"Well, luv," I responded calmly, gently pulling her away arm away from the wall so she would stop caressing the rather stained brick. "Tis in these sort of alleyways that drunkards come t'...well, le's just say tha' the brick is far from clean."

She made a disgusted face by wrinkling her nose as she realized what I was insinuating. The hand reflexively went to her dress as she wiped it furiously against the powder blue dress that left very little to a man's imagination. "Did," she stopped herself and made a bit of a face as she started over with, "Do you have any soap?"

Of course we had soap! Did she think humans were some sort of wild animal, in the past? Of course, it'd be much more fun to tease her about this...so I replied with, "No, I don't have any soap." I wasn't exactly lying...I really didn't have soap on me, right this instant.

Her nose wrinkled again as she continued rubbing her hands against her skirts. She stared at me for a moment, suddenly saying, "Goober."

"Goober?" I asked, greatly amused by her unique insult. She always had something new to say to me. "I tole ye the truth." I pretended to be greatly hurt by her lack of faith in me.

"Fine." She didn't seem to be swayed by my false wounded look, so I dropped it. "Do you know where I can get some soap?"

"Wiv wha' money?" The look on her face was priceless as she felt around her skirt and realized she had no pockets, and therefore, no money. I just liked aggravating people sometimes...it was a bad habit, when I was in danger.

"Jack? Can I have some money?" she asked, glaring reproachfully at me as she recognized the laughter in my eyes.

"What for, luv?" I asked soberly, though I obviously knew why she was asking for it.

"To get me some soap, of course." Her eyes were full of so much pleading that I felt I had to relent. How did women perfect that look at such an early age, anyway? I had to use a lot of self-restraint to slowly shake my head. "Why not?"

"I've got some perfectly good soap aboard the Pearl, luv. Made wiv less animal fat than wha' ye could find 'ere, anyway."

"Soap is made from animal fat?" She pulled another disgusted face as her hands rubbed against the material pressing next to her hips subconsciously.

"Aye, tis. I really should've remembered t' bring some of yer soap back wiv us." I really should have. It was amazing what sorts of conveniences people in the future-well would it be the fictional future, for me?-it was so very confusing, traveling in time and across reality. I don't think she realized how unnerving it had been for me to see myself on that...what was it called? Ah, yes, television. I'd nearly passed out, upon seeing myself-it couldn't have been me, though-because it was so realistic. Almost exactly how I remembered it (of course I hadn't been able to see myself, from above). I didn't think it really could've been me, for I didn't remember seeing any sort of...oh, blast, what was it called? (Or would it be, what is it called?) Camisoles...came rate, camel, caramel...camera! That's it. I don't remember seeing any cameras following me. I'm just glad she turned off the silly pictures, before I started to doubt my sanity (again).

"I suppose I should've been thinking too," she commented, looking a bit distressed for a moment. Her face suddenly lit up as a smile graced her gentle features. "I did remember t' bring some Advil and Tylenol, though, among other things." She smiled even more bewitchingly and I forgot completely about the mess of thoughts in my mind.

"I suppose tis all stuffed in'o the bosom of yer dress, eh?" I asked as I winked.

"That's just something you'll have to find out, Captain Sparrow." She giggled slightly and unexpectedly put her clean (thankfully) hand on mine. "Can we go see the Pearl?"

"O' course," I replied, hoping that I didn't sound too happy. This girl clearly understood me a lot better than most other women I'd met, and I doubted she'd ever try to tear me away from the sea. Blast...what was wrong with me? Love didn't exist, not for pirates at least. And I was a pirate, after all. Pirates couldn't fall in love with girls younger than their own daughters...

She must've noticed the slightly disconcerted look on my face, for she leaned up and kissed me gently. I liked women with that sort of temperament. They could be divided, basically, into three categories. There were the women who were afraid to initiate any sort of kiss, ever (that usually ended up as librarians or governesses), the women who would occasionally show desire (that often became ornaments, on the ends of nobility's arms), and the women who would throw caution to the wind and actually initiate activities (who usually turned out to be strumpets). She was apparently a mixture of all three, depending on her mood. "Come on, then, where's the harbor?"

I smiled sweetly, vastly amused by her accent. Americans had such curious nuances to their speech. I couldn't see the point in ending almost every word with the proper syllable. It just wasted time. She glared at me for a moment before she started tugging gently on my hand. Blast, I was letting myself get too noticeably distracted-this really wouldn't do. Adopting a grin on my face, I led her to the harbor.

I slowed to a stop as soon as I saw my most prized possession: the Black Pearl. It had torn a hole into my soul, the day I'd watched my ship sail away under someone else's command. Of course, the Pearl was mine. The vision of beauty, bobbing happily in the harbor and welcoming me back, as though she knew where I'd been was mine. I could choose where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I was under the command of no man. I liked to think of the Pearl as my wife (well, that was bound to change, eventually) because I was so attracted to her. To me, she seemed to have moods...to move, like a real person. I would try to coax her to hold on just a bit longer, during horrible storms, because I knew she'd listen to me. Rather silly, eh? A ship couldn't feel anything, as Anamaria liked to point out to me, late at night as I talked to my "wife". The sea had always been my mistress, on the side. When the Pearl and I had "fought" for those ten horrible years...I turned to the sea for solace.

"So, that's the Pearl?" she asked softly, putting her arm around my waist. "Beautiful." A woman after my own heart...or perhaps she was so much "into my character", as it were, she could tell what I would think and was only saying what I wanted to hear. That was a rather disturbing thought, but I put my own arm around her waist instead of making a comment.

"Aye, this is the Pearl," I confirmed, staring at my ship bobbing peacefully in the water for a few minutes. Life was perfect, eh? Nothing could go wrong, for I had my ship, my health, and a lovely lass to occupy myself with.

"Are we just going to stare at her all day?" she asked with an impatient cluck of her tongue. Where had the timid girl gone? Was she replaced by a strumpet? Or, perhaps she just needed to be helped the same way she helped me when I'd first arrived in her world. Thinking about all of this made my head spin a bit...how did other men do it?

"No, no," I replied, laughing and picking her up as though she were a basket full of feathers. She squealed and laughed, kicking in a mock attempt to get away as I held her closer and started up the docks towards the gangplank to get to my ship.

"Cap'n Sparrow!" she protested as we started up the rather distressed plank of wood. "You scandalous fiend! Just what will the crew say?"

I chuckled easily. "Whatever they wan' t', savvy? Only Anamaria is still aboard, luv. The res' are off, enjoyin' themselves." What would my crew think, when they saw me with her? She was beautiful, to be sure, but in this dress, she only looked like your average strumpet...not like the intelligent (although inexperienced) girl I knew.

"Ah." She smirked lightly and kissed me softly. "Well...in that case, my dearest Jack, I won't be worry about first impressions yet."

I smiled warmly and nodded. "Ye don' really 'ave t' worry abou' them ever...they'll like ye, luv. I'll 'ave a hard time keepin' them away from ye, actually." She laughed softly, and I shook my head slightly. Didn't she see what a great woman she would become, in a few years? Any man would be proud to call her his wife. Ah well...I didn't make a comment to her about her inability to accept a compliment...a time would come for that later.

"Which one's your cabin?" she asked excitedly, apparently forgetting all about my crew as we reached the deck of the Pearl. Goodness, I'd missed her...if only I could just spend the afternoon standing at the helm, a pleasant and stiff wind at my back...wait...I had a beautiful girl in my arms! And I wanted to merely waste the day thinking? That was ludicrous, even by my standards.

"This one, luv," I responded, pointing forward with a bob of my head. "Why? Ye anxious t' see inside? Not many 'ave." I smirked slightly as she brushed my hair out of her face. The braid with the small string tied onto the bottom of it was tickling her nose.

"I've always wondered who was right, Jack." She smiled mischievously at me and started playing with the braids on my beard.

"Who was right?" I asked, one of my eyebrows quirking up underneath the red scarf I'd worn on my head since...well, the last time I took it off. Oh, that was really descriptive, eh? If you want to find out, why don't you read some crazy tale about me? I'm sure there's one somewhere that explains that particular quirk of mine...

"Well, Jack, there are two sorts of Jack Sparrow fans out there," she explained, completely serious. I had to change the look in my eyes to match her own before she continued. "Some of us think you have an incredibly messy cabin, full of all sorts of memories scattered all over the place, like your mind...and some think that you have an incredibly clean cabin, because you're hiding some side personality or something that loves everything being right and proper...which is why you went after the Pearl, because you had to make everything proper."

I blinked a few times and chuckled slightly. "Well, wha' if you're all wrong? I could have a partly messy an' partly clean cabin, ye know...there's no rule saying wha' sort of way I keep my things."

She smiled and shrugged. "Well, if we're wrong, we're wrong...but I doubt it. How many years ago did you run into Barbossa?"

I frowned slightly and thought for a moment. "Two."

"Well, then, in theory, your room should be arranged however you'll have it arranged for the rest of your life. I'm personally a person who thinks you're a clean man, in your cabin...like your little sanctuary, in your mind."

I nearly dropped her. How could she know about that? Goodness...this wasn't fair! She'd studied my every move inside that blasted movie...and knew how to read me better than any woman I'd ever met, even though she was the most inexperienced woman I'd ever known in bed...

She laughed at me, gently kissing me on the lips. "Oh, come off it, Jack Sparrow...that was just a guess...someone else figured it out. Calm down, my pet...and properly bed me already."

I frowned slightly, but opened my cabin door nonetheless. She'd been right...it was rather clean (for a pirate, at least) because I couldn't stand clutter in the room where I slept. It was a habit from childhood, though. My father had always come into the room to make sure it was clean, when he was home, and if it wasn't...well, lets just say I got to know what a whip felt like better than most children did...