Disclaimer: I don't… ::thinks about it:: Hey! I actually own this chapter!!!! YES!!!! It's mine…my own…MY PRECIOUS ::insert evil cackle here::

Author's Note:

Howdy!! Oh yes indeed, I started another PoTC ficcy (no relation to Desire I assure you) I was really surprised by the responses I got for just the prologue. Made me very happy does happy snoopy dance This is a slightly different genre for me so you might have to grin and bear it until I can get this style down. First non-romance story ye know ::gasp::. So please, REVIEW!!!! Let me know if this is good, if I'm going in the right direction. Let me know if it sux and I need to refocus a bit. Shout out y'all!!

The boy leaned his head out of his one dusty window, trying to get a better look at the docks. The sea shimmered as each wave came rolling in, the hot Caribbean sun reflecting off of it like glass. He was rather scrawny in appearance for a 16 year old and a few of the barmaids were constantly worried that he wasn't getting enough to eat. He was tall and thin in a sickly kind of way and was remarkably pale. His face was long and drawn out and his eyes, when they weren't covered up by his chin length scarlet hair, were a deep brown.

The boy sighed with relief as a cool ocean breeze blew across his face. The cramped quarters that belonged to him didn't have much in the way of ventilation and were constantly overheated. His eyes flicked dreamily back to the docks, and he stayed at his window, chin resting comfortably in his hand, for quite sometime. The boy was not, as some people might think, dreaming of a life of danger and adventure on the high seas, full of peril and mystery, but was instead wondering how many ships would come to harbor that day.

You see, the boy had seen what a life of piracy led to more often than not; broken dreams, missing limbs, wasted years, and not a penny in your pocket. Far too many nights he had sat and listened to the stories of the wizened old men who sat forlornly at the bar, dreaming of better days. Every pirate with a sad story to tell or money to spend seemed to gravitate to Tortuga. The boy snorted in disgust. Pirates. A lot of good they were.

"DEVLIN ANDERS!!"

The boy was pulled back inside forcefully by the collar of his shirt and was spun around to face his very angry boss, Mr. Reed. "What the 'ell do ye think you're doing boy?!" Before Devlin had a chance to answer, Mr. Reed backhanded him hard across the face. "Think I took ye in so you could daydream?" Mr. Reed slapped him again. "Do ye?!"

"No sir," Devlin replied quietly, wiping the blood away from his mouth for what must have been the fourth night this week.

"Stop being so bloody useless and get downstairs. I want those tables clean before 5 o'clock. Do ye understand me! Or else I'll beat ye so hard ye won't remember the day ye were born!!"

Devlin wanted to reply that he didn't remember the day he was born already, but knew that he would be worse off in the long run. The truth is that Devlin didn't talk much at all. He enjoyed the private conversations he could have in his mind and preferred them to actually speaking. That's why the old men liked him so much. He was a good listener.

With a simple nod, Devlin dashed down the steps that led up to his room and made his way to the main area of the 'Sea Maiden', the bar that Devlin lived over and Mr. Reed owned. It was a favorite haunt of many of the pirates that stopped at Tortuga and was known for its seemingly endless supply of rum and women.

The pub was virtually empty now except for the said women who lived in the few rooms next to Devlin's. They were sitting around chatting, enjoying a few more restful moments before the work day….er, night, started for them.

Devlin looked up at the large clock that hung over the bar; 4:45. Fantastic, he thought, 15 minutes to clean…25 tables. Just wonderful. He sighed despairingly and decided that he better get to work as he didn't have that much time anyway. He grabbed a cloth from behind the bar and began frantically clean the tables. One…

At five o'clock, Mr. Reed headed back downstairs. Devlin had just finished table number 25 and was very pleased with himself. He really didn't think he could pull it off. Mr. Reed came and stood beside him, looking down at the table Devlin had just finished. "Ye call that clean, do ye boy?" Mr. Reed asked quietly.

Devlin swallowed the lump of fear that had somehow gotten into his throat. "Yes sir…I do."

Mr. Reed kicked Devlin's legs out from under him and slammed the boys head against the cold table top. "This," Mr. Reed hissed into Devlin's ear, "Is disgusting." He pushed against Devlin's skull slightly harder.

A customer came in.

Devlin had never been so happy to see a pirate in his life. Mr. Reed pushed Devlin off the table and onto the floor. "Welcome to the Sea Maiden!" Mr. Reed said jolly, stepping over Devlin to greet his precious customer.

Devlin lay there, his head spinning, his eyes closed in pain. A soft hand brushed his red cheek gently. He opened his eyes slowly and looked into light green ones, laced with concern and pity. They seemed to smile when he opened his eyes.

"Hello…" said a feminine voice softly.

Devlin blinked a few times, attempting to clear his mind. "H-Hi," he replied.

A young lady kneeled over him, her ebony hand grazing his cheek. Her hair was long and straight, the jet black strands reaching to the middle of her back. She smiled down at him. "What's your name?" she asked kindly as he sat up.

"Devlin Anders, what's yours?"

"Melisande," it rolled beautifully off her tongue and washed over him like the waves of the ocean, "But you can call me Mel if ye like."

A squat, callused hand grabbed Melisande's and flicked her hand away from Devlin. Mel glared up at Mr. Reed, who was staring intently at her. "Well, well, well, well," he clucked, his voice deep and foreboding as he pulled her slowly to her feet, "What do we 'ave 'eere, eh?" Mel didn't say a word, but kept glaring at him, her eyes holding cold resentment. "You must be the new girl. What's your name?"

"Melisande," she answered, her teeth clenched.

"Oh very pretty…" he said, looking her up and down, obviously not referring to her name. Mel tugged on her wrist, attempting to escape the odious man's grasp. He looked up at her in surprise. "Ye got spirit," he squeezed her wrist tighter and pulled her close to him, "I reckon I'll 'ave to tame ye." He grinned at her unpleasantly. Mel turned her face away, feeling sick.

Devlin shared Mel's sentiment and started making gagging motions much to the amusement of the other ladies, who laughed loudly. Mr. Reed glanced at them before turning a suspicious glare to Devlin who had stopped making faces and was attempting to appear as innocent as possible.

"Boy," barked Mr. Reed, releasing Mel who took several large steps away from him, "Put this on." He tossed an apron on top of Devlin, who was still sitting on the floor.

Devlin looked at it in obvious displeasure. "Did Martha get sick again?" Martha Tapely was the Sea Maiden's head barmaid and always seemed to catch horrible head colds. Devlin was often forced to fill in for her and he hardly enjoyed the stale jokes made at his expense by drunken customers.

"No," snorted Mr. Reed, "Ol' Tom went off and got himself shot, silly sod. Ye'll be tending the bar tonight." With one last glance at Mel, Mr. Reed went back to his office. Saying a quick pray for poor ol' Tom, Devlin stood up and eagerly slipped on the apron and tied it around his waist. Anything had to be better than filling in for a barmaid.

A/N: Well? Was it any good? Please I'm really really nervous about this chappie. I don't want it to bore you!!!! I love you!!!! ::smoochessmoochessmooches::

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Adios Amigos,

T.F.