Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be writing this, mate.

AN (2/2): I'm going to die tomorrow, at the regional Academic Decathlon meet. I don't have any of my speech comparing drugs to television memorized...and I've got to do another fake job interview. I hate job interviews...I hope to never actually have a 'real' job...
(2/5) :Well, obviously I didn't die. I came up with all of the dialogue in this chapter at the awards ceremony for the regional meet...I didn't win any medals, and its really boring to hear nine different people who win medals for ten different tests...

One More Day: Chapter Five

"Jack...are you up?" Her voice brought me out of somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. I would've completely ignored her if I hadn't detected a note of slight worry in her usually cheerful voice. It almost sounded like she was trying to work up courage to ask me a question. That question would undoubtedly be about a favor. I didn't really want to do her any favors, but she was my bonny lass, and I should at least pretend I cared about her little favors (which had thus far been tasks like cleaning up throw up) and dignify her with a response.

"Am now." My eyes were full of sleep. She had finally recovered from her seasickness a few days ago, so I had spent the last few nights teaching her about knots (Gibbs's worries really weren't weighing on my mind, obviously) and had only been getting about three hours of sleep each night because of my body's refusal to sleep past sunrise. I was certainly tired. No wonder my cabin seemed darker than it normally did: I wasn't sure if my eyes were open or not.

"Sorry." She didn't sound very apologetic. Not that I really expected her to sound apologetic, of course, but it would've been nice, this late at night.

"Don' worry about it, luv." I brushed my hand, nearly whacking her arm with my fingertips. That could be a bad habit, at times, but my hands seemed to have a mind of their own. She remained silent and I bit back the impulse to snap at her for waking me up for no reason. "What is it tha' ye want, then" My voice didn't sound all that intimidating. It was mellow and smooth, even though I still couldn't tell if my eyes were open or not. I was starting to think they were closed. If she wasn't talking to me, I'd be in dream land right now, my subconscious throwing random images at me to tell some insane story. I missed having dreams. They were a good way to escape.

"I...I...thanks, Jack." I got the impression she was about to say something else and had settled on just thanking me, based on the way she stuttered over I and quickly said the grateful comment. Odd. Why would she have a hard time talking to me? I tried to be as open as possible with her especially.

"For what?" Ah ha! I proved that my eyes had been closed as I wrenched one of them open in an attempt to see her. Once it focused, I could see her smooth skin glinting in the moonlight as it fell on her like some sort of contouring blanket. She looked lovely in the moonlight. Actually, all women looked lovely in the moonlight. The light of the moon wouldn't display imperfections like the light of the sun. However, the look on her face was such that I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I'd always thought that women had too much in their heads...they probably had an even harder time making sense of things than I did because of all the thoughts running through their mind. Of course, that was just my theory. I've never been a woman, so I can't say if they really have thousands of thoughts in their head at one time or not. Perhaps they're much more simple than men make them out to be.

"Bein' there for me. I would've been so...lost without your help through my illness. Ne'er been sick away from home." She smiled lightly at me, now that she saw one of my eyes open. Her smooth hand went around my waist as she kissed me gently on the lips. I think she realized how tired I really was. Well, I hope she realized how tired I really was. I was making quite the sacrifice for her...but I always did odd things when I was smitten by members of the opposite sex.

"Don' mention it." I liked it when people thanked me, even though I didn't like admitting that I liked it when people thanked me. There came a point where I just didn't want people to mention some kind deed I did. I was a pirate, after all, and I couldn't be expected to be nice to anyone. Still...a little recognition for a lot of work made it more worthwhile.

"Still tired?" I almost sensed a hint of something else behind her question...but my eye fell shut and I couldn't see anything anymore. Blast me being tired! Of course...I would get to the bottom of this eventually. Unless I forgot to make further inquiries.

"Mmmhmmm." I really didn't mean to sound so tired...but I honestly couldn't reply with anything more witty or intelligent than that, frankly. I assume she didn't say anything further...because soon I was back in my dream world, chasing after someone who thought I was someone else.


The air was an electric sort of blue. The sort of blue that generally precedes a rather nasty storm that would undoubtedly whip my various bangles and trinkets into my face...during hurricane-force winds, I'd actually been cut by the little bits of metal hanging down off a coin. Really quite an odd way to be cut, actually, because they certainly weren't sharp and pointy like the metal of something you'd generally expect to bite you...but, it had been a very windy day that'd happened. It was windy now, but weak breeze was just barely strong enough to blow my hair into my face. That was the only problem of not wearing it in the conventional ponytail...of course, I'd gotten used to seeing wisps of ebony brush across my vision and occasionally land in my eye...so this really was nothing to complain over.

Off in the distance, a flute was bobbing in the water. Flutes were interesting little ships used to transport not too many goods over not so big spaces...quite common, in the Caribbean. But it was action in a bottle. The way they'd been trying to avoid us told me that they had some valuable cargo aboard there, indeed. Ripe for the plucking...

"We're comin' up on t' other ship, Cap'n." Anamaria was to my left, an excited glow in her dark eyes as she thought about the potential swag aboard such a lucrative looking merchant ship. That was really all that drove any respectable pirate: the love of money. Greed. We were a ship full of greedy men and women. That was why we'd given up on the conventionality of life at land...to satiate that greed. Or at least try to.

"Good." It was good. I wanted to get this over with before the storm started trying to bash the Pearl into their ship. That would be dangerous for my crew, my bonny lass, and my ship...I didn't want to lose my ship again, to a place where I couldn't follow.


We were soon close enough to the other ship that we could do what we did best: steal all their gold and ravage any women aboard. Well...maybe not so much ravaging of women, because I really doubted there were any women at all on the other boat and that Anamaria would want to do anything with the men we'd find... "All hands on deck! Prepare to board!" Pretty standard orders, right before you crossed one ship to another...this would be very exciting. I felt as though I hadn't plundered a ship in nearly a year, even though it had only been two and a half months or so since the Pearl had landed in Tortuga for repairs and such.

Several specially designed planks soon connected the Pearl to the flute. My crew did what they do best: they stormed over to the other ship without a moment of hesitation. I followed close behind them, and my bonny lass followed behind me. She looked rather terrified...but, then again, I'd looked terrified my first battle. Everyone is afraid of death (even I am, believe it or not). The more you see of death, the more you can disguise that fear, simple as that. As my crew started fighting the other crew, a young gentleman that was about my height decided that I was an easy mark and made his way over to me. Young lads generally have more confidence on the outside then they do on the inside, so I wasn't really all that concerned for my life as he started trying to cut my hand off. "Ye really think you 'ave a chance agains' Captain Jack Sparrow, son?" I tried not to sound too amused or too serious as I coldly contemplated his smiling visage. Too proud.

"I'm positive that I do, Captain. You've gotten sloppy in yer old age." At least he called me captain, eh? I would've completely lost my temper if he hadn't called me captain. As it was, I felt fury burning behind my eyes. He called me old. And sloppy. I wasn't either, honest, I wasn't.

Determined not to let my anger show completely as we started sparring, I asked, "And how would ye know that?" Logic during a fight is often a hard thing to address. Surely I'd overcome him with my superior wits and experience. He was a fairly good man with the sword...I actually had to think what his next move might be. I'd heard that in other countries, you didn't fight with other men until you understood exactly how they would react...that seemed rather crazy to me, because I was constantly surprised by how people would react to some of the things I'd said and done in my life. Like this man, for instance. I never would've thought he'd be able to nearly cut me across the chest...but he did. I barely moved back in time. If it hadn't been for the belt I wore across my chest, I probably would've been cut more deeply than I was for a greater distance. Blast him.

"I've heard tales since I was a lad abou' you, an' I'm nearly twenty-five." He laughed lightly as he slashed at me with his gleaming cutlass after kicking my hand to keep me from blocking. The youth needed to come down a few notches...even though that had been a very unexpected move.

His blue eyes widened with surprise, however, as I jumped out of the way. I could be rather acrobatic, if I wanted to. That was a mistake a lot of people made...I came across as a rather clumsy bumbling fool. Which was why I was such a good pirate. I did a lot of things people didn't expect. "Age becomes experience, son," I said with a smirk as I took advantage of his momentary hesitation to slice him across the chest. It wasn't a fatal wound...but it would hurt a lot.

"So it would seem," he gasped, dropping his sword to hug his chest. Poor lad...his face was actually contorted with pain. Ah well...I couldn't afford to care what happened to him. This ship was still up for grabs until I faced off with the other captain or he decided to give up.


I found the captain of the ship a few minutes later, after I worked my way past a few more members of his rather arrogant crew. It didn't make much sense, really, for them to be so arrogant. Unless, of course, they had some sort of secret weapon. I really doubted they did, but it did cross my mind as I glared at the other captain. He was a very ugly man. At least in my biased opinion. I could see Anamaria trying to get another look at him every once in a while as she dueled with a rapscallion about twice as heavy as she was. The man had classic good looks. He was a regular Adonis with his curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. A bloody young 'un, by the looks of it, with a more defined body than myself. Ugly. And taller than me. I wasn't jealous, of course. Everyone is born looking the way they look, unless some sort of disease, disaster, or another person mars their face. I found myself wanting to mar that perfect chin of his...

"Well well well," the man drawled with a perfectly crisp French accent. I'd often heard that women were attracted to men with accents. This man-oh, he was a perfect gentleman, too, based on the way he was dressed up-was the epitome of the life I'd left behind when I'd turned scallywag. If I hadn't decided to become a pirate...I probably would've ended up being a merchant captain like him. Not nearly as arrogant, of course. "If it izn't Captain Jack Sparrow."

Why did he know who I was? Oh...right, I had that unmistakable look. No one else in the Caribbean could quite copy my look. And no male pirate was man enough to wear kohl so often, even though it did lessen the glare of the sun reflecting off the warm waters below us. A lot of staring towards the horizon meant that I saw a lot of sun, hence the tan skin. I smiled slightly, nodding as my sword danced in the darkening sky. It would soon rain. Actually, I was rather surprised it hadn't started raining yet. Perhaps Fate was on my side. It was always easier to bash whelps into submission in dry conditions, after all. Wet decks often were slippery. "Aye. Unfortunately, mate, I 'ave no idea whom I'm addressin'." I made my expressionlook like that was a crime against nature, or something.

"I suppoze that an introduction iz in order, then." He smiled and displayed perfectly straight teeth. Blast him and his good looks. He didn't have anything detracting from his overall virile visage. He bowed, nearly hitting me in the face with his feathered hat. He was several inches taller than me. I felt like a cockroach, for a brief moment. "I am Captain Leroy Dompeire." He almost looked like he wanted to shake my hand, for he reached out with a perfect hand that had obviously been used to strangle men before towards my hands, though they were gripping my cutlass tightly.

I glanced at him curiously, my gaze flicking from his hand to his brilliant blue eyes. He noticed my indecision (I really think he'd been planning on it) with the faintest flicker of acknowledgement behind those eyes that would definitely captivate even the most shrewish woman. I slowly took my right hand off my sword to shake when his hand quickly snapped back and pulled his cutlass from his scabbard.

I didn't even have enough time to get my right hand back on my cutlass when he started swinging an ornate weapon at me. One slash across the cheek before I could even blink. "You're very good," I said hoarsely, trying to disguise the sudden fear welling up inside me as he slashed at my shoulder and I saw crimson staining the once white shirt.

"Why, thank you, Captain. Zat is definitely high praise from you." He didn't even blink as he continued attacking me. I hadn't been this much on the defensive since I used Bootstrap Bill Turner as a sparring partner... Captain Leroy was definitely better with the sword than that insolent stick of a man that was Bootstrap's son.

I'd really been hoping to distract him, by talking. I at least wanted to get my right hand back on the cutlass's handle. This was undignified, fighting with only one hand as he drove me back towards presumably his cabin. Maybe this is why the whole crew had been so arrogant...this man could've potentially killed my whole crew by his onesies. "Aye," I agreed lamely, twisting around quickly to avoid having my head lopped off. I left myself open for another side attack...but I did manage to get both my hands properly on the handle. Perhaps now I could defend myself from this master swordsman. And perhaps some day I'd dress up as a woman to avoid capture. Hope seemed more difficult to keep holding on to than a drowning woman's hand because of her water-soaked skirts. Was this going to be the man who forced me to finally stop my piracy?


sunkist3208
: Ah...well, I thought I was signed up to get alerts when you updated. Apparently not. I'll have to read those chapters, eh?
You are very right, Whitney. Gibbs is my voice of society. At least in the last chapter. Jack has screwy views because I'm a twenty-first century girl writing like I'm a seventeenth century pirate, and a man. Hard to do, really. I'm probably way off on his thinking...
Thank you for the review!
Jack: Glad you enjoyed it. There's lots of thoughts running through Jack's head all the time. If I had such a convoluted way of thinking, I think I'd be just as daft as he is. Mutton chops are those ugly things that Gibbs wears on his chin. Silly looking hairstyle, but it was popular. And some people still have mutton chops. And as for Gibbs attitude...well, that's what men thought back then. Women were really just puppets or ornaments and weren't allowed at sea...couldn't have jobs other than as governess, maid, seamstress, or laundress, really.
Daisy: The new chappie jig is quite fun, isn't it? I'm sorry its been taking me so long to update. I feel all...blah. And apathetic, really. I wrote you something special, for your birthday, though. Tis crazy...an' I'll probably delete it tomorrow, because I am not a poet...but I'll post it in my LiveJournal or something.
To answer your question...well, the crew doesn't like her because she's a woman, she's new to sailing, and she's distracting Jack from his greed. Women weren't generally allowed on boats, back then. They weren't really generally allowed to have opinions, either, but you know that already.
And yes...I had Gibbs make that comment about Anamaria for your enjoyment. She does act like a man, though. And Jack is still completely obsessed with her, sad to say. Driving me up the wall, but it has given me an idea for the end of this little story. Because it is going to end...well, happy, I hope.
Gibbs is a butthead, but he's being the voice of society. And you, apparently. No, just kidding. He's there for a reason, though. The first guy Jack battled really isn't there for a reason, in this chapter, but don't tell anyone.
I lurve long reviews! Thank you so much! And...my calculus teacher (when he's at school) really does go off on a lot of tangents. And likes to tell us we're stupid.
CrazyPirateGirl: Aye, seasickness bites. I've got worse plans in store for her, though. And...er...I can't say that, because Jack would shoot me for giving away the plotline. But thank you for being such a faithful reviewer! And for being honest, yet again. Obviously its a fight with swords, eh? But...pay special attention to what Jack isn't thinking about, and I'm fairly sure you'll be able to guess what happens in the next chapter. Sorry for the cliffhanger...but I can't put everything in this chapter or it would be far too long. And not being updated today. And now I'm rambling...thank you again! Since you were the first to review this chapter, you get a PotC soundtrack. Because it's right next to my mouse.