This is my very first fanfic; although I have helped friends write parts of theirs. I know that I should've written this in the first chapter, but I was excited to post it.

disclaimer thingy: my fanfic uses other literary works as bases. So as to credit people who'd get mad at me if I don't: the POTC movie, of course, and the "Captive" Series (romance novels written by Fern Michaels).

A gaunt Furana stepped into a mostly-deserted tavern. The fact that she was female was mostly indeterminable, as she wore a heavy weather-beaten coat and a ratty tri-corner hat, which dipped down to cover her eyes. The figure hunched over as she slumped into a chair at a table in a cobwebbed corner.

"Oy!" Furana called in a husky, yet strangely high-pitched voice. She pointed at a voluptuous barmaid. "What can I get fer two shillings?"

"Not much," she answered, smiling, "But how 'bout a rum on the house and something else later." She winked.

Furana smirked knowingly and beckoned the barmaid with one finger. "Ye probably wouldn't wanna do that," She challenged in a hushed voice, using one finger to lift up the hat so that her eyes could be seen.

"M-my God, you...you're..." the barmaid gasped, totally taken aback, stumbling backwards and blinking in surprise.

"Not so loud, unless ye want ev'ryone to hear." Furana hissed. She pushed her hat back down over her deep brown eyes which were surrounded by lush, black lashes. As beautiful as they were, they had hollows under them and were a bit bloodshot, she could hardly keep them open. The barmaid noticed, too.

"You poor dear, I'll get you that rum anyway...and some fresh bread, too. My word, you look half dead." The plump woman crooned. She shook her head as she bustled away. That girl probably wasn't a day over 19 and looked extremely wary, she thought. It was such a shame that the sea could ruin such young lives.

Furana surveyed the meager amount of people inhabiting the room. A loud group on her far right shouted and laughed. Most likely at the over-exaggerated tales of drunken sailors, she mused. A woman led a man upstairs, giggling as he slipped a gold piece into her bodice. Damn whores, always giving "respectable" she-pirates a bad name, she glowered. It was all their fault that she was dressed as a member of the opposite sex.

The last party consisted of a man staring at a half empty glass of rum (author insert-well, I'd say it was half full). She focused on him. His hair was a combination of braids, wraps, beads, and dreads and he had a hat sitting at a jaunty angle on top of his head. There was something familiar about him, jut on the tip of her tongue. The man took a sip of rum. Ah, that was it! Jack something-or-other, captain of the Black Pearl.

The barmaid returned with sustenance. "'Ere ya go, love, and what did you say your name was?"

"Furana, Fury, if you will." She murmured, staring at the man. "Now, could you tell me who 'e is?" Fury gestured at him.

"Oh, that's Captain Jack Sparrow, miss. He'll be back in port for a few days," the barmaid explained, sighing longingly. Fury thanked her for the food and took a swig of rum as the barmaid wandered back towards the kitchen. Perfect, Fury thought. I will finally be able to escape the clutches of Captain Verne, for the time being, at least. Now, how can I get a position aboard Sparrow's ship?

Captain Jack Sparrow observed the room, eyes circling like a vulture's. Two other parties occupied the small, dim tavern. One was a group of six loud, boasting men, more drunk than sober.

Several minutes before, a whore had led a man upstairs. Lucky bastard, Jack thought. That could've been me. Not tonight though, he had to figure out where to go from here. Raiding the small, Caribbean settlements had become a bore, lately. It was time for another adventure.

A lone figure sat in at the corner table. The serving maid seemed to know something about this person. Jack noticed the figure staring at him. He feigned an avid interest in his flagon of rum. Probably recognizes me, Jack thought pompously. He drained his glass.

Jack winked at the figure, who sputtered her rum in astonishment, confirming his belief that this was indeed a woman. He flung on his coat and stepped jauntily into the street, after tossing a gold crown on to of his table.

So how was it? Let me know. Send a review! Please, please, please, please send a review. I will die if you don't. Okay, maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration......or more than a little bit. This version is a bit different from the one that I originally posted due to a, er, uh, problem. Toodles, Siren's Voice