Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, and it is quite unlikely I ever will. However, I DO own any characters you don't recognize. They are the products of my own genius. Chew on that, Bruckheimer! MWAHAHAHA!

A/N: okay...this is my first fic, so constructive criticism is appreciated...oh, and on name pronunciations...

Lara: lar-uh (not lor-uh, which is spelled 'Laura')

Diamantine: die-mon-teen.

Lara

-Chapter1-

The bold, rather rude chimes of the doorbell woke Lara from a deep sleep. She kept her eyes closed, trying to hold on to the dream that was rapidly fading from her mind. It had been something that seemed...important. The thing chimed again, pestering her to return to the world of daylight. "Go away," she murmured, her speech slurred from the fact she was far from awake. She mustered enough strength to roll over on her lumpy futon and gazed, bleary-eyed, at the clock. Ten in the morning. She groaned as the doorbell rang six, seven times in a row. Muttering crossly as she heaved herself up off the futon, she stumbled through the hallway, managing to trip on various miscellaneous articles of junk as she went.

The front door was opened to reveal a tall, stoutly-built girl with fine dishwater blonde hair tapping her foot expectantly. "Morning, Sunshine." she brightly said, smirking slightly at Lara's less-than-presentable appearance. Her curly honey-brown hair was frizzy and ruffled, and she was dressed in an oversized black t-shirt that read EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG!. Her bottom half was adorned in threadbare plaid pajama pants that had seen better days. "Mnph." replied Lara, rubbing her eyes. After a yawn, she invited the girl in.

"Okay, I warn you, when I say junk room, I mean disaster area." Lara cautioned Katherine as they made their way to said junk room. Katherine Diamantine brushed a lock of straight blonde hair out of her face. " 'S' okay," she said simply. When they reached the room, Lara felt a twinge of embarrassment. The room had always been generally messy, but her small encampment there had made it much worse. She had started on a painting, and had so far achieved close to nothing. Her futon, which lay in the middle of the room, was beneath a tangle of blankets, and, much to Lara's embarrassment, a huge, (now empty) chip bag lay open next to it. Trying not to get too flustered, she broke the awkward silence with "Well, here it is."

Katherine, having gazed her fill, tore her eyes away from the chip bag and turned to Lara.

"So...you want me to help organize?"

"That was the plan, yes."

Katherine paused. "Okay...this may be harder than I thought."

The staggering amount of unwanted stuff in the room (indeed the entire house) was the fault of Lara's father, John Halls, who, though one of the best souls on Earth, was what many people call 'a pack rat'. Mr. and Mrs. Halls were currently vacationing in Tahoe, and Lara's younger sister, Jesse, was in horse camp, so Lara was on her own (except for her aunt, who came on frequent visits) for the week. She had starting bunking down in the spare room because Jesse, whom she still shared a room with, was on Lara's last nerve, which was getting close to snapping. She had started 'camping' roughly two weeks before, the day after her fifteenth birthday. The only other living inhabitant of the room was Lara's plump pet chinchilla Twizzler, also known as Twizzy.

"Well...let's get started!"

About an hour later they started digging through old artwork, and found that there was much to dig through. Most of the stuff were prints, although there were a few original pieces. All of them, as Katherine and Lara soon discovered, had some form of mildew on them that came in varying shades of white and brown. One particularly mildewed piece, a sketch of some WWII fighter plane, had a metal frame that was sticky with goodness knows what. Another landscape was so spotted with white mildew that it looked as if it were snowing in the sunny glade. They formed three groups of paintings; "Keeps", "Possibly Displayed", and "Ask Dad if it can be burned". The last category was formed upon discovery of a watercolor entitled 'Graveyard'; it was hideous beyond description. It resembled what would happen if someone chugged orange paint and then thrown it up on a canvas, then painted on small, faint, greenish-yellow crosses with their feet.

"Hey...look at this." said Katherine, struggling to hold up a painting with a particularly heavy frame. It was a seascape, complete with ship. It was not a happy scene; the ocean was turbulent, the clouds grey and foreboding, and the English flag atop the galleon seemed to be writhing in the wind. The frame was more interesting, though; it was made of particularly dark wood, and was lavishly carved with Mayan-looking designs. At one time, it looked as if it had been coated with gold leaf, most of which had worn away so that only a few desperate fragments remained. Surprisingly, it lacked mildew, along with an artist's signature. It had the aura of something very old, something to be handled with respect.

"You hungry?" asked Katherine, who had lost interest in the painting. "There's ice cream in the fridge if you want it," said Lara, not taking her eyes off the canvas. Katherine shrugged and started toward the kitchen. Lara continued to gaze at the painting, absorbing every brushstroke and molecule of paint, trying to memorize the piece. She had a nagging feeling she had seen it before, but she knew that wasn't possible. Katherine poked her head into the room, surprised to find Lara still staring at the artwork. "Earth to Lara, do you copy?" "Roger that," said Lara, finally looking up. Katherine was finishing off the rest of the coffee ice cream, with spoon in one hand and nearly-empty pint in the other. "Wow, ever heard of sharing?" said Lara. "Hey, you never said you wanted any," protested Katherine after taking the spoon out of her mouth. "Besides, I had to lug all that stuff to the garage, so I need to replace the calories I burned."

"Hey, I couldn't have gone into the street in my PJs!"

"That's your fault for sleeping late." said Katherine simply. Lara rolled her eyes. Twizzler gave each of them amused looks before retreating into his nest.

After Katherine had gone home at about six, Lara fixed herself some macaroni and cheese (which she undercooked), gave Twizzler a slice of apple, and settled down on the ancient family room couch to watch Gone with the Wind. She nodded off after the first twenty minutes and descended into a deep, troubled sleep.

Thus it began.

A/N: please don't flame me...please...oh, and reviews are much appreciated. Just click the button people. You know you want to.