Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada yada.

A/N #1: It's been forever and a day, I know, and all I have to offer up to all you marvelous readers is this lamentably short chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise, and far more eventful. But the chapter just had to end on a cliffhanger. I couldn't help myself. (You've been warned.)

A/N #2: Right now I have no intent of taking this story in a romantic direction...in case anyone was wondering. If the story somehow wanders that way, I'll try to give y'all fair warning, but it's unlikely.

Reviewer notes will be found at the end, as usual.



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Chapter 4: Realtime



I woke suddenly to morning sunlight streaming through my blinds. I thought I'd heard something from the other room, a sound, perhaps a half-strangled cry, that had pulled me from sleep.

I sat up and listened. Nothing. Someone must have shouted outside; I sighed. My neighbors never seemed to get the concept that it was rude to make noise before ten a. m. on a Saturday.

Or perhaps I'd only dreamed it. Disordered memories floated in my still only partially-conscious mind. I *had* had some very odd dreams, it seemed. Much more so than usual, in fact. I couldn't shake the clear image of a man's face, grinning at me: deeply tanned, fine-boned, watching me intently with gleaming dark eyes made cat-like and mysterious by heavy black liner.

I rubbed my eyes. I thought I'd gone to bed around eleven, but I felt as groggy as if I'd stayed up all night.

I was about to lie back down and pull the covers over my head when I heard it again.

It was definitely coming from the direction of my living room, and it was definitely a voice. A male voice. The words were indistinct, but troubled somehow with pain or grief; they were abruptly cut off by the thumping vibration of something heavy striking the floor.

I jumped out of bed, alarmed...narrowly missing the small pile of sand and glass beside the nightstand, had I been paying attention...and flung open my bedroom door.

My coffee table had been overturned, scattering books, magazines, and my collection of tealight candleholders; that had obviously been the crash I'd heard. And Jack Sparrow was sitting bolt upright on my couch, clutching the hilt of his sword, those dark eyes darting from side to side until they met mine, wide and wild.

We stared at each other, dismayed, as I realized with a sinking feeling that the unbelievable events of last night had actually happened.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, finally, just as I said, "You're still here."

"It appears so." He passed a hand over his face; he looked a little rumpled, his kohl smudged, as if he too had just woken up. "I was quite certain that I'd dreamed you, lass."

"I was hoping the same, of you." I shook my head, resigned, and went to right the table; he made no move to help me, just watched me warily. "You woke me up," I accused him. "What were you doing in here, anyway, having it out with my furniture?"

He had the grace to appear a bit sheepish, but the expression was shadowed by some deeper emotion. "My apologies, miss," he said, and then, more softly: "I've fought a good many battles in my time, young Leah, and won or lost such memories are not the sort that bring a man much in the way of peaceful sleep."

I paused in the act of straightening a stack of 'Rolling Stone' magazines. It was strange to think of him as one who suffered from nightmares. "Even if that man is a pirate?" I inquired lightly; but even as I spoke, the violent, disjointed images of my own half-remembered visions rose in my mind. A chill ran down my spine, despite the sunlit warmth of the room.

His eyes flickered, and I knew he'd caught my involuntary shiver, though he did not comment on it. "I may be a scoundrel an' a thief, m'lady, even a really bad egg, but I'm not so different from any other man, never mind what the legends say. Well," he amended, "given, I'm quicker on my feet, a far sharper shot, and a damn sight more clever than your average bloke, not to mention better-looking...but that's beside the point." He fixed me with that intense, kohl-deepened gaze. "We pirates still grieve, and bleed, and die--" he frowned, "most of us, anyway...and yes, lass, we have our bad nights, same as everyone else."

"Well, if yours are anything like mine have been lately," I said, "then I'll forgive you the coffee table, this once. *But*," I added sternly, "only because you didn't break it." Still, I smiled at him; I couldn't help my compassion, for his words had echoed with a weight of care that belied his apparent physical age. In that moment I could really believe that he was over three hundred years old, though by my understanding of the circumstances he had not truly lived through the intervening centuries.

"Thank you," he said gravely. "But I should hope that your bad nights are nothing like mine, my dear." With that, he rose in one smooth, quick motion, turning away and crossing to the south-facing window, where he peered out curiously.

"You have no idea," I muttered under my breath, in his general direction.

He made no sign that he'd heard me. "Lovely day outside, innit?" He glanced back at me quizzically. "Doesn't look near as strange as you've made it out to be, down there."

I finished reordering my table and joined him at the window. "That's because you're looking down at the trees in the courtyard, not at the street," I told him. "Ever heard of a horseless carriage, Jack?"

"It's 'Captain', love," he said, though the rebuke seemed to emerge more from force of habit than from any real offense. "*Horseless* carriages, eh...do they run 'em on sails, or steam, these days?"

"Uh...neither." Oh, Christ. More engineering to explain. "Internal combustion, actually. Powered by gasoline."

"Sounds dangerous," he said mildly, but at his look of polite incomprehension I realized belatedly that my last two statements probably meant next to nothing to him. Did they even use anything like gasoline in the seventeenth century? I doubted it. Whale oil was possibly the closest approximation, and I suspected that trying to draw an analogy between the two would represent a significant conceptual stretch.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. *If* you behave, I *might* let you ride in my very own private carriage sometime. Then you could see for yourself."

"M'lady Kerr, you are far too kind." He was mocking me again, amusement rumbling behind his solemn protest.

"Don't think I don't know it." I eyed him critically. "Although we're certainly going to have to clean you up quite a bit before I can take you out in public, Captain. And find you some different clothes, as well."

"What d'you mean? There's nothing wrong with me clothes!" He sounded genuinely affronted this time.

I snorted. "Yeah. Right. Even if they *were* even halfway clean--" I wrinkled my nose-- "which, by the way, they're clearly not, you can't wander around in the twenty-first century dressed like that. You'd be way too...noticeable."

"I *like* being noticed," he said, petulant. "That's what I go for, y'know? This," and he posed shamelessly, chest thrown back, head high, "this, my dear Leah, is the patented Jack Sparrow Look. I spent years developing it to perfection, and *decades* establishing its notoriety, and I'm not about to compromise me image now on your say-so. Savvy?"

"Your *image*?" I rolled my eyes. "Give me a break. Listen, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Jack, but your pirate cred doesn't mean anything here. It's not going to bring you respect, or fear, or whatever it is that you're trying to cultivate. You'll be laughed at first, and then arrested, or committed. And I think you'll find it's a whole lot harder to escape from prison now than it was in your day."

"Leah, darling," he said patiently; his tone implied that I was very young and rather slow for my age. "I have made a living of evading a wide variety of hostile military and civil authorities since I was a lad in short pants, and I've long outgrown any native horror of ridicule I once possessed. I need you for a guide, lass, not for a nursemaid."

I folded my arms. "Well, it's your funeral, I suppose." There was no way he was any more stubborn than me, I decided. "But I'm not guiding you anywhere, buddy, unless you look presentable. And dragging me along at gunpoint," I added quickly, as his face acquired a distinctly calculating mien, "would be a very bad idea. That'd get you noticed, quick enough...and it'd also get you in even more trouble."

He made a sound of extreme frustration, something very much like a growl, and threw his hands in the air; turning his back on me, he paced the length of the room, once again reminding me of a trapped tiger. Near the door, he halted, glaring at me.

"You really are a most maddening female," he informed me.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," I said dryly. "Now, I'm going to go get dressed, myself. Why don't you just chill here and think about what I've said, and I'll be right out. 'Kay?"

"Right." He'd ceased his restless movement, and was lounging against the wall, expression dark and sullen; only his eyes shifted to follow me as I headed toward my bedroom.

"And don't go anywhere."

"Yes, your Majesty."

I raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yeah, I swear it, on pain of death, and so on and so forth. Now do get on with it, lass, make yeself decent by all means. It's quite distracting havin' to argue with you while you're wearin' naught but your skivvies."

He let his gaze linger lazily over my body with a slow half-smile, and I suddenly felt very naked.

"You--"

"Yes?" He blinked at me innocently.

"Nothing," I muttered, and retreated in all haste, slamming the door behind me.

I was in the process of pulling on my jeans when I heard my front door open and close.

"Oh, crap..." I stood still for a second, listening; heard nothing but absolute silence. "Oh, crap."

I hadn't yet gotten around to putting a shirt on, yet; grabbing for the first thing that came to hand, I wrapped my long sweater-coat around myself before I rushed out into the living room.

"Oh, crap," I said again, though I had already been pretty sure what I was going to find.

Jack Sparrow was gone.









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I know, I know...I'm evil. But you love me for it.

*cricket*

...Anybody? No? Uh...okay then! On with the thank-yous!



Miss Becky: Yeah, I think I won't refer to the movie again...unless I absolutely have to. Maybe if I'm feeling ambitious I'll rewrite chapter two to accommodate the slight AU...but I liked making Johnny references. *grins* Leah IS a smartass...even more than I am, I find!

XReject: I laughed at the genie part myself. Glad you enjoyed!

Eledhwen: Yes, no fangirls. I don't want any of those, even in my own story for purposes of ridicule.

AleniaOceanstar: God forbid Leah becomes a Mary Sue! I would have to kill her and perhaps myself as well. If you catch her showing any signs of Sue-possession, please let me know. Like I said, this is not a romance-oriented story, anyway, so I think I'm safe...surely not ALL female OC's are Sues?

Mythical Assassin: Thanks! It's an ongoing struggle.

Nightfox: Finally, eh? I'm loving your story, btw!

Precarious*Personata: Sorry...I don't think I could recreate the patterns of capitals/lowercase in your penname if I tried. But thank you so much! *blushes* Leah says thank you too.

XFVixen: I can't deny a little tiny bit of Kate and Leopold influence here. I actually adored that movie...Hugh Jackman *sigh* he is a hottie, I agree.

ToledaSarrah: Can't promise any real "action"...but there will certainly be bathtime fun on the way.

Aelimir: Uh...sorry. *winces* I know that wasn't anything that could be called quick.

BubblyFizz: Thank you so much Sara! And thanks for checking out "Choices" too. That one WILL be updated...I promise... Hehe. I can be a bit snarky myself at times, but not nearly as much as Leah.

LanFear1: Not to give away too much of the (not-planned-whatsoever) plot, but no, I don't anticipated Leah returning to Jack's time.

CQ: Jack wanders around outside in the very next chapter...should be interesting.

Maryn: Hey! No breakdowns for you! I totally disagree with you...I love your style.

jigglykat: Duly noted. Glad you're laughing!

Marahootei, saiyan-girl-cheetah: Thank you!

Love you all! *muah*