A.N: Oh reviewers, you're making me blush Disclaimer: I'm a poor person and own nothing. So don't rub it in by suing me

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I wandered to the only place that I knew, Jack Sparrow's quarters. My intent was to look for another door since theoretically the First Mate would be near the captain. As I suspected, about ten feet down the hall from his door was another one on the opposite side of the hall.

A bad feeling started spreading in the pit of my stomach, clenching with fear. Shaking it off, I knocked hesitantly on the door; half hoping he wouldn't hear me. I had no such luck.

The door opened, a shaft of yellow candlelight greeting me, along with a partly shadowed face. I stepped back a bit as a man stepped out, and I got a good look at him. He was tall, taller than the Captain, but handsome in a more refined, older way. His wavy brown hair was cropped above the neck and tied back, and his round face looked jolly, with his warm brown eyes smiling in welcome. Just the sight of him made me feel better, and for a moment I was without words.

"Ay, miss. I believe the captain's quarters be that way."

I shook myself out of my stupor and shook my head, remembering my manners, "First Mate Barbossa, yes?"

The man nodded and waited for me to continue. "My name is Laurel Brinkley, I'm staying on the ship for a time, as I'm sure you know. Recently I've heard some news that you are privy to as well, and am seeking an explanation that I did not have adequately delivered."

Barbossa laughed a bit, and I saw faint lines around his eyes and mouth. Obviously he was older than his captain. "Miss Brinkley, please come in, I have an idea about what you be speaking of."

I followed his back into the room, which was as richly furnished as Sparrow's but with more of an English feel. The room actually reminded me of my mother's parlor, with a bed in one side of course. The sitting area held three chairs and a dark oak table, with an oil lamp sitting atop it unlit. Barbossa gestured to one of the chairs, which I sat in while he took one opposite me.

"Miss Brinkley, what I take from your reason to come see me is that our Captain Jack told you about why you be on the Black Pearl and you aren't really pleased with it are you?"

I shook my head, willing him to go on, wanting to know if Jack really was just using me. Barbossa sensed that and cleared his throat, "Well lass, you'll be content to know that Sparrow isn't usually this nice to his passengers. I doubt you'll be fed to the sharks when the time comes that we find that treasure. Sparrow is a leader with twists, some of those twists not suitable for a pirate's ship..."

He stopped, seemingly lost in thought. I broke into his meditations abruptly, "So are you saying Captain Sparrow isn't just using me for the way to the Isla de Muerta?"

A strange look came into Barbossa's eyes and he shook his head, "Sorry miss, but you may be something more to him, but for us we need you only as a compass. So do a favor for a poor First Mate and don't get to close to that one. His future isn't too bright."

It was then the wooden door burst open and my heart caught in my throat as the still shirtless Sparrow swaggered in, smiling broadly at First Mate and "mistress." It then turned into a frown, "I see I've interrupted something."

Barbossa stood up, the strange look still in his eyes, "Not at all Captain. I was just telling Laurel of her importance on this voyage."

Sparrow stared at him with a new look, a look of command. Barbossa frowned and snapped, "I have things to be doing, it was a pleasure to meet you Miss Brinkley, but if you'll excuse me I have to request that I be alone now."

Sparrow steered me out while a dead silence hung in the air, almost tangible. "You didn't need to bring him into that did you?"

I gulped quietly and tried to shake hair into my eyes while playing with a ribbon on my dress. I had to know something, "Um... Barbossa said I was....um....more than a....well....a compass to you...." I paused and forced myself to look up, astounded at my audacity, "is that true?"

A grin played at Sparrow's eyes and he put his rough sailor's hands on my waist, drawing me a bit closer as the breeze blew my hair out of my eyes, "Why Ms. Brinkley I didn't knew ye ever cared what Jack Sparrow thought of you."

In that moment my upbringing flashed before me, an upbringing that frowned on open shirted pirates with long hair and flashing eyes, wandering hands and a weather beaten face.

In that moment I didn't care.