A/N: It has been almost three years since I've updated this story. That's just insane. Uh, so… If anyone remembers this story… Here's the next chapter! I think I may do a massive rewrite. I don't know. So… Three years later, we continue…

Chapter Nine

Eight years later…

There was a dot on the horizon. Most eyes would have missed it, but not his. The red rimmed eyes narrowed, focusing on that tiny dot far out to sea. Out came the spyglass from his belt and he focused it out to the east. The dot instantly became a ship, and the eyes widened.

He tucked the spyglass into his belt again, and swung out of the lookout with ease. He climbed down the rope ladder, jumping the last couple feet and hitting the ground with a thud. Without pausing, he swiftly climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck, and half saluted the man that stood before him.

"Sir, a ship. Navy sloop. To the East."

"Hostile?"

"Will be once they identify us," he said, grinning cheekily.

Grant grimaced. "Fetch the captain."

The grin faltered. "Is that necessary, sir?"

"I'll get him myself. Stay here." Grant shook his head as he walked down to the captain's cabin.

"Still questioning your superiors, Reade?"

Jack grinned. "You're my superior, bos'n, and I never stopped questioning you."

Barbossa glared, then grabbed the spyglass from Jack's belt, searching for the ship. Jack didn't even bother to look over at him. "A tad more to the East, Barbossa."

Barbossa shot him a look, then found the ship. Slowly he lowered the glass, blinking. "Is that the Victoria?"

"I do believe so."

His mouth opened, but all that came out was a gasped, "Bloody hell…"

"Fitting. That's where she'll be sending us, right quick if we let her."

Barbossa just stared into the distance, watching the cream-colored sails and massive black hull take concrete shape. "We better not let her."

Jack grinned, clapping his friend on the back. "Cheer up, Barbossa! We're not going to die. Not today."

Before Barbossa could reply, the captain called out, "What are we seeing, men?"

Barbossa spun around. "Navy sloop, cap'n. The Victoria."

Sparrow grabbed the spyglass from Barbossa's hand and found the sloop without any trouble. "Well."

"We can out run her if the winds are right," Barbossa said quickly.

"Afraid, bosun?" Jack replied, eyes on the horizon.

Barbossa glared at him, but addressed the captain. "She's got a reputation for pirate-killing, sir."

Jack scoffed. "And we've got a reputation for fighting, not running away."

Barbossa cocked his head, smiled cruelly. "The fight might damage the ship, Jack."

Jack's brow furrowed. "You have a point." He paused, then nodded. "We should definitely run away."

"Grant!" Sparrow bellowed, eyes flashing and ready to throttle the two young men. He shoved the spyglass into Barbossa's hands. "Find me some real pirates and ready the ship for attack!"

"Aye, sir!" Grant pushed Jack, who bumped into Barbossa, and gestured for them to head down the stairs.

The two ran down the stairs, Grant yelling behind them, the crew milling about in a frenzy. Jack shook his head. "Damn fool pirates."

Barbossa grinned. "Jack, with that attitude, we should have left ye at sea."

"And where would you be if you did? Dead, five times over."

Barbossa's grin soured and he shook his head. "I don't have time for your nonsense, boy," he muttered and began walking away.

"You wound me, bos'n! Lord knows what you'd do without-" The end of his sentence was cut off by cannon fire. Jack spun around. "They're already that close?"

Barbossa was back at his side. "She's fast. Damn fast…"

"We're faster."

"And we're moving toward her. This doesn't bode well." Barbossa stared out at the ship, which was nowhere near close enough to hit them. "It was a warning shot… I think they want us to surrender."

Jack laughed, open and full, head back, wind in his hair, and knew that he looked the perfect pirate. "I think they're in for a surprise."

Barbossa shook his head. "You look like you're posing for a portrait." He moved away quickly, shouting orders to the crew surrounding them.

Jack watched him, then jumped into the fray. It came easily. Readying the guns, tying those impossible knots, rushing below to find more gunpowder… It all felt natural to him now, like breathing. It had been eight years, and it had taken the full time for him to admit that Mitchell had been right. He wasn't cut out for the navy.

He was the perfect pirate.

The Victoria wasn't just fast. The Victoria, as far as Jack could tell, was perfect. They met in the water, cannons thundering, in less than fifteen minutes. The Pearl struck the Victoria first, and Jack grinned, showing off teeth that were still too straight for a pirate, but one couldn't just pull out one's teeth all at once.

"Barbossa!" Jack called out to his friend. "You see any officers on deck?"

"I think that redhead from the Pimple is serving as a lieutenant," Barbossa called back.

Jack grinned at the nickname they had given the Postulo, the pustule of the sea. They'd sunk it the year before and left the crew adrift. Apparently, some had survived. "Anyone else we know?"

"Oh-ho, Jackie. Marshall on deck."

Jack grinned, and stole back his spyglass. Sure enough, there was Marshall.

"Reade, we're about to engage! Get yer mind on the battle!"

Jack continued to smile and wiggled a loose tooth with his tongue. He tucked the spyglass back into his belt. This was going to be interesting.