Disclaimer: POTC not mine. -clones Jack Sparrow and puts him in her closet-
Squirrel sits up, disoriented. Her room was never this big, and there were only skinny candles, not lanterns. She slept curled up on a bed of rags, not in a hammock. Squirrel loses her balance and falls out of it, landing on her wounded side with a squeal of pain. She sits up slowly, holding her arm and stomach.
These aren't her clothes. Her clothes were burnt, torn and stained with grease and water from working in the kitchens. These clothes are clean and new. And where is her cloak? Squirrel looks about the room, confused, and then the memories come flooding back.
She is on the Black Pearl. Jack Sparrow's own ship, and she's leaving Tortuga once and for all. Squirrel breaks into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, despite her pain. She's free! She's finally free.
A shot is fired outside, and Squirrel silences herself. Scurrying to one of the circular windows, Squirrel cautiously looks outside.
She's still in Tortuga, and the fights in the docks and on the island continue. Squirrel feels her stomach drop. It's after dark, and she's not in the tavern. Dawn's going to be getting hell from her father… And Sharky. Squirrel's eyes fly wide. If Sharky gets drunk and starts blabbing…
"I'm d-doomed." Squirrel slides to her knees and slumps against the wall of the cabin.
There's a knock at the door. It's Anamaria. "Oh, good, you're awake now. I brought you something to eat…" She stops at the look on Squirrel's face. "What's wrong?"
"M-m-my uncle… D-D-Dawn w-will… W-w-why am I…?" Squirrel's many questions start pouring out, but her stutter stops her from asking them. Anamaria puts the tray down on a barrel near Squirrel's hammock.
"Are you alright?" The dark-skinned woman asks, hands on her hips. Squirrel nods, looking away. Anamaria sighs. "I see. Well, try not to worry too much. Yes, we're still in Tortuga. We can't set sail until Jack gets back. And he's still not back." Squirrel looks up into the woman's face, confused.
"W-why is h-h-he go-gone?"
Anamaria shrugs. "Said something about this girl needing manners taught to her." Squirrel gulps. Dawn…A second thought strikes. Captain Jack Sparrow was the man that talked to me on the beach!
"Anyway," Anamaria says, walking over to a chest. "This is yours. I've put your papers and your cloak in there. Your old clothes too, but in my personal opinion, you really shouldn't wear them anymore." Squirrel looks down at the new blouse and leggings she wears, then back at Anamaria. "Yes," the Negro woman nods. "They're mine. Well, they were. They don't fit me anymore, but they fit you fine." Squirrel can tell by the woman's tone that these clothes are not hand-me-downs. They're brand new, and Anamaria is trying to cover it up. But why? Squirrel wonders.
"What are all the papers for, anyway?" Anamaria asks. "Sharky said you risked your life to go back and get them."
"Th-they're m-my n-n-notes." Squirrel says, twisting a strand of hair in her fingers nervously. "I t-t-take n-notes, in th-the t-taverns, ab-about the g-g-games. Ch-ch-chance, and th-things l-l-like th-that."
"Why?" Anamaria asks.
Squirrel looks away, blushing. "My-my only s-s-skill. M-my only t-tal-talent."
Anamaria raises an eyebrow. "Skill? What do you mean?" She takes a paper from the chest and reads at it. "I don't see how this is a talent of yours."
"I c-c-can r-read p-p-people, know w-w-what they're th-th-thinking. I c-can know wh-what num-number they'll r-roll on a d-d-dice, or wh-what c-c-cards they'll p-p-play in a g-g-game." Squirrel stops, noticing Anamaria's annoyed expression. "Wh-what?"
"How long have you spoken like that?" Ana says, tossing the paper back into the chest.
"S-since I w-was y-y-young."
"Well, stop it." Anamaria snaps. "It's irritating, and makes it harder for me to understand you."
Squirrel bites her lips, fighting back tears. "I c-can't h-help it-it." Damn it, don't cry. She chided herself silently. Not now. Why the hell are you so emotional all the time?
"Really?" Anamaria walks out, still irritated. "Well, you managed to say your name this afternoon without breaking it into letters." As Ana slams the cabin door behind her, Squirrel sits in silent shock. I did? She wonders. I can barely remember anything that…
There is a knock on the cabin door. A sailor leans in, and Squirrel rises to her feet, cautiously.
"Sorry about Ana's temper, Miss Squirrel." The man shrugs, smiling. "Ana's not known to be the calmest person on board. Worse than the seas sometimes, she is." He extends his hand, and Squirrel shakes it timidly.
"I couldn't help but overhear you said you had a little gift." The sailor says, stroking his mutton-chops. Squirrel squints at the man suspiciously. You must've been pretty close to the door to 'overhear' that, she thinks silently. The sailor clears his throat.
"Y'see, Miss Squirrel, I'm in a bit of an economical crisis right now." He smiles at her. "I was wondering, see, if it's not too much to ask of you, if you'll help me win a few games."
Squirrel, conditioned to take orders her whole life, nods immediately, unquestionably. The sailor seems surprised at her sudden acceptance, but grins and claps her on the shoulder. Squirrel winces and yelps.
"I w-w-was b-burned re-recently." She explains to the startled sailor.
"Ah," the man says with a knowing nod of the head. "So that where Jack be."
Squirrel tries to smile, but fails. What?