Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, but I do own the things you don't recognize.

Enjoy!

Director's office of International Intelligence Agency, Someplace hidden

"Sir! Sir! Code Alpha3C, Code Alpha3C!" A short, balding man was currently chasing after the head director.

Apparently, what the little man just yelled out was of extreme importance. The few people in the corridor all stopped and gaped at him.

"Uh… I mean, sir can I talk to you in private?" corrected the balding man in a more subdued tone of voice.

"Follow me." The important looking man in a crisp Armani suit led the way to a nearby office. He shut the soundproof glass doors and turned to the little man.

"Sit and explain." The director's tone was deadly serious.

"W-well, sir, around 0600 hours, our special alarm went off. One of our uh…elite agents had gone off radar. Satellites haven't been able to pick up any traces on her. We figured the biotracers in her body would help us find her, but…" The balding man, or Specs, trailed off not knowing how to explain the current situation.

"…but…" The director prompted.

"Well, sir, we got a trace on her location and dispatched a pick-up team to retrieve her, but she's not there."

Captain's quarters, The Black Pearl currently docked in Tortuga

Jack Sparrow was one lucky guy. Everybody knew that, hell even he knew that, but he wasn't about to jinx himself.

The ever-so-lucky Captain Sparrow was currently entertaining important guests in his cabin over a bottle or two of his best rum. And no, they were not those kinds of guests and it was not that kind of entertainment.

Captain Sparrow had recently had a series of very successful raids and was in the process of selling some of his goods.

"Now, Herman, I recently relieved a Dutch vessel of twenty-five barrels of the freshest spices I've ever smelled. What say you to 75 shillings a barrel?" Jack finished his proposal with one of his most winning smiles.

"The freshest ye ever smelled, eh? Well Jack, they are jus' spices. I say 45 shillings a barrel." Shot back a ruddy- faced old man with a mouthful of gold teeth.

"70" argued Jack.

"50" Herman returned.

"70" repeated Jack.

"53"

"70"

"60"

"25" said Jack in the same tone.

"70!" Shouted an excited Herman.

"Deal! I knew ye'd come around." Crowed a triumphant Jack. "I'll get some of the boys te bring the stuff over later. Its been a pleasure doin' business with you again."

Herman sat sputtering for a while and then broke out into guffaws. " Ah, Jack me boy, ye've bested old Herman again. Yes, yes, have your boys bring the goods down! I hope te do business with ye again soon."

As both men got up and shook hands, old Herman spoke up again. "Ye know Jack, I heard about a few blokes goin' after this new treasure."

The word treasure caught Jack's attention. "Really now?"

"Aye. Cupla weeks ago, some rich old fart named, Clairmont, croaked over in Port Royal, one of the richest there. Word is that he has no family left to leave his fortune to, so his will stated that whoever could find his buried fortunes would get to keep it. The man even left behind a series of clues to help.

"That's interestin'." Mused Jack.

"Aye, tis interestin', but the most intriguing part is, no one knows where the clues are."

Market in Port Royal, Jamaica

Aubergine had attempted to get in touch with the IIA, but failed miserably. The hit she'd taken to the face must have messed up her communication chip. She wondered if they even knew what had happened. Aubergine snorted derisively. Hah, yeah right. How on Earth are they going to know that I've been thrown back in time? They'll probably just declare me as MIA or put me on the list with all the NOCs.

Aubergine had grown tired of just standing there not knowing anything, so she decided to do a little looking around. A couple hours later, she found herself wandering into a market of some sort. There were fruit and vegetable venders, little booths with trinkets and such, and even some men trying to sell live chickens. For a moment it seemed like all the other markets in the small towns she'd visited, but the fact that the people were all dressed in 17th century clothes changed her mind. As she walked by, the people all stopped to look at her.

Dressed in jeans, a white top, and her Burberry Jacket, Aubergine thought she looked pretty good. Yeah, pretty good in the 21st century. So much for trying to be inconspicuous. Thought Aubergine as she tried to get away from all that attention.

She kept wandering until she came upon a huge house- no make that several huge houses. She let out a low whistle. "Those must have cost a pretty penny." She mused to herself.

She wandered around the houses aimlessly until she came upon one that looked really familiar. She could have sworn that she'd seen it before. But where…? Aubergine decided to take a closer look so she climbed over the wrought iron gate and made her way up the winding path to the house.

"Hmm…Clairmont Manor…" murmured Aubergine reading the golden plate on the side.

Aubergine noticed that the house seemed abandoned. There were no servants walking around the grounds, and the plants and flowers looked like they'd been unattended to for a while. She knocked on the door just in case, but no one answered. Just as well, I don't how I'd explain myself. She tried the doorknob, and surprisingly, it was open.

Cautiously, she stuck her head in. Then her arm. Then the rest of her body. She looked around and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. There was dusty furniture and a general abandoned look to the place.

Aubergine walked around peering into large vases and hallway closets and eventually came upon the fireplace. It was ordinary looking except for the painting hung above it. It was a painting of a house- the very house that Aubergine was in right now.

But as she looked at the painting, she realized why the house looked so familiar at first. She had seen the house before. She had recognized the house because of the painting.

For it was the same painting that had been passed down through generations in Aubergine's family.

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