Yay! I'm back! Thanks to Sabriel Silverwing, who inspired me to update with her review! (You should feel very special.) Fury will go on (cue fanfare)…so please enjoy Chapter 11.

"I can't believe he convinced me to do this." Fury gritted her teeth, bracing herself on the wall of the twilight-lit cabin. Anna Maria pulled tight on the corset strings, causing Fury to gasp for breath like an asthmatic without an inhaler.

"Air! I need air!" she wheezed, her arms flailing about in some sort of desperate effort. She tried to take a deep breath, but failed due to the fact that the contraption would only allow a girl's lungs to expand so far. Anna Maria winced at the thought of having one laced around herself, then looked at Fury and realized something critical to the brunette's survival.

"Fury, it's not even that tight on ye." She stuck a long, golden-skinned finger in between the silky fabric of the corset and the skin of Fury's slender back. "God, ye're skinny."

Fury ceased the display of melodramatics as she looked down at her still slightly-emaciated body. The corset didn't actually restrict her breathing at all and, in fact, hung nicely on her rather gaunt figure. "It's the streets." She muttered sullenly. "Shall we go on with this fancy-breeches cat shit?"

Anna Maria looked in a wooden trunk, rummaging around and throwing out various women's clothing pieces and paraphernalia. She helped Fury to put them on. She stood back after the pieces of decadent finery had been loaded on and covered her mouth with one hand to repress the laughter, shaking her head. Fury spun around and, finding a long mirror against the wall, looked at herself in it. The dress was a horrid pale yellow color that made her skin look jaundiced and her cheeks look hollow from starvation. Blue petticoats poked out from beneath it, clashing terribly with the yellow of the dress, which was covered in bows and ribbons that magnified its absurdity. Fury had refused to trade her worn boots for ladies' shoes, but the dress was too long, even for her tall frame, and covered her feet.

"Oh dear God." She whispered fearfully upon viewing the image. She looked like the confection at bakery. Anna Maria began to chuckle. "Oh, shut up."

She stalked out of the room, scowling in anger and frustration at the fruition on Jack's rum-addled idea. Outside, on deck, Jack had been waiting for several minutes, anticipating the shriek of indignant disgust or rage that he was sure would soon erupt from Fury's lips. His dreadlocks had been pulled back into a ponytail and were hidden by a ridiculously pompous powdered wig. He had on the silk breeches and doublet of an English gentleman. He had not, however, relinquished his hat. It was doubtful that a hurricane would cause him to lose that. Fury bit her lips to keep from laughing at the sight. Jack paid her no such courtesy.

"That's a lovely dress ye 'ave there." He commented bemusedly, his lips tight with restrained laughter.

"One more word, Jack, and I will personally cut off your testicles and feed them to a shark."

"Aye." He consented, and then broke out into loud guffaws, walking down the gangplank onto the dock, hardly able to stand he was laughing so hard at the ugly confection of a dress. She followed after him, punching him in the arm when she caught up.

"Ow. What the 'ell was that for? My arm is rendered useless. Ye must kiss me to restore it to full health. Of course, full health would mean you getting on yer knees and…"

"Ye know what the bloody 'ell it was for." She interrupted, glaring.

"But I didn't say anything."

"Ye were thinking it." She issued the snappy rejoinder. Jack frowned and rubbed his injured arm. "Furthermore, ye had no grounds to be saying it; look at yerself, ye pansy."

Jack pouted, realizing that her insight was completely valid. He led her through the streets of Port Royal in the rapidly darkening twilight. They followed a confusing path through the alleyways of the slums until they reached the section where the middle class homes and businesses began to merge with the estates of the upper class. They stopped in front of a building with a sign that read, "W. Turner, Blacksmith."

"Aye, this is the place." Jack said, smiling ruefully at old memories. He opened the door and slipped in, followed closely by Fury, who glanced around cautiously before entering. The moment her eyes had adjusted to the gleaming darkness of the shop, she saw the gleaming tip of a sword abut two inches away from the end of her nose. She began to reach her hand towards her hip, only to realize that her mother's sword wasn't there. They hadn't managed to belt it to the dress.

"Shit! Jack…" She moaned, a whimper escaping from her lips. "Help."

"That would be…improbable."

Out of the corner of her brown eyes, she glanced over to see that Jack was in an equally unfortunate predicament. Deciding to take charge, she swiftly kicked the owner of both swords in the groin.

"C'mon, Jack, let's get out of here." She urged, no longer her normal fearful self. She turned and opened the door, but realized that he wasn't behind her and looked over her shoulder to see that he was helping their opponent to his feet and had thrown off the ridiculous wig.

"Sorry about that, Will." Jack apologized. Will Turner only grimaced in reply. "She's a bit…feisty."

Fury glared at Jack indignantly, and then offered a hand to Will. He shook it obligingly. She took in his curly brown hair that hung in a low pigtail at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were filled with a warm light and despite his somewhat effeminate frame; she perceived that his height and skill with a sword made him a lucky match for any woman in this town. However, her objective was getting what she wanted and he would have to forgive her for the damage to his manhood first.

"I am sorry about that, uh…"

"Turner, Will Turner."

"Right. I, uh, I'm really sorry." She hung her head abashedly.

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. "That's fine."

He had fully recovered by then; Fury's aim was just a tad off, but he was still slightly cross at Jack Sparrow's new friend. He turned to Jack. They glared at each other for a moment, then embraced, patting each other on the back as was custom to reassure themselves that a hug would not suffer an insult to their masculinity.

"How 'ave you been, Jack?" he asked.

"Up to no good." Jack grinned deviously. "And I seem to have made the acquaintance of a Miss Fury Delamar." He nodded in Fury's general direction.

"Aye. New whore?" He queried, referring to Jack's magnificent ability to seduce, or be seduced, by women with low morals. Fury looked shocked and enraged at the suggestion, and began to storm towards Will, hopping mad. Jack noticed, restraining her in her wrathful state and covering quickly.

"No, no. She 'as a map…and we…"

"Look here, Mr. Turner, 'ave ye heard of the Sea Siren?" She interrupted her mumbling captain, twisted her way out of his stronghold. Will looked at her incredulously. Who hadn't? "Well, we need to find her treasure under yer floor."

"The Sea Siren's treasure is in my shop?" he asked, his brown eyes huge in disbelief.

"A clue to finding the treasure is."

"Oh." He smiled tightly and looked at Jack.

"Really, Jack. Tell me the real reason why you're back in Port Royal." Jack made a frantic gesture with his hands, indicating that Fury's words were the truth. "So you're going to tear up my floor. And you know that the Commodore is going to find out that you're here. I'd risk my life for you, Jack; I've done it before, but…"

"So, how's Elizabeth? Alive and well, I presume?" Jack asked abruptly, changing the topic.

"She's well, yes. Her father isn't quite as doting as he let on. He decided that wasn't of the proper social class to wed his daughter, so she's married happily to the son of a wealthy spice merchant. I've moved on. I found someone truly fit for my heart. Oy, Madelaine."

"'Old on." A breathy, youthful voice called from the back room. A pretty young woman, though not significantly gorgeous, walked out several seconds later, pulling a bit of straw out of her dark red hair and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She looked to be about 18, two years younger than her brown-eyed fiancé. Her facial features were soft and almond-shaped eyes were of different hues; one of her eyes was as blue as the brilliant Caribbean and the other was a bright springy green. She was noticeably shorter than Will as she stood next to him, reaching a height of a little more than five feet. Despite her petite size, she was rather voluptuous. She blinked, smoothed down her white nightgown with its smudges of coal-colored handprints near her derriere; it was easy to see what she had been doing before they arrived, and then offered her hand to Fury.

"Madelaine Halliway."

"Furana Delamar. Ye two aren't ma-"

"Not yet." She smiled dreamily. "Delamar?"

"Aye."

"So ye're…"

"Aye." Fury answered, already knowing the question. Madelaine turned to Jack and erupted into giggles.

"Wait a minute, I know ye. Ye're…hahaha…ye're Jack Sparrow." She began to laugh, tears trickling out of her eyes. She bit her lip afterwards, trying to hold in the remaining giggles. Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"Ye know each other?' Will asked, regarding Jack suspiciously. If he had ruined Madelaine, friendship was going out the window and Jack was going to get his ass kicked. He had told Madelaine all about his friend, but had no idea that she had had relations with him beyond knowing about him.

"She stole…"

"Will, darling, I told ye that I used to be a pirate." She said, an innocent look in her queerly-colored eyes. "Well, during that 2 year period of piracy, I pillaged one his plunders, so to speak. Right out from under his nose."

Will breathed a huge sigh of relief as she nodded proudly. Madelaine was still innocent in that sense, although her mind had often wandered down dangerous paths and she could still do that thing with her tongue that he was sure she had learned somewhere devious. He loved her for her unique sense of naïve sweetness and devilish mindset. He began to chuckle at Jack.

"Actually, it happened several times." Jack said to clarify. Unfortunately, he realized too late that it only compounded his humiliation. Will was laughing and crying now. Fury caught the giggle also and soon all three of them were laughing at Jack.

"It's not that funny." Jack said. It did absolutely no good.

"Uh, yeah it is." Madelaine giggled.

"I was drunk." He attempted.

"Jack, you're always drunk." Will panted, barely able to breath from the tremors of laughter that were wracking his body. Fury was holding her sides because it hurt to laugh with the corset laced tightly around her. Will and Madelaine were hugging each other, supporting each other lest they fall down. The laughter slowly began to fade until it ebbed completely away. Then, they all looked at one another and it started up again. When they finally were able to stop, Madelaine faced Jack.

"Sorry. No 'ard feelings, mate. And what are ye doing 'ere?"

Fury explained the situation to her while Jack and Will caught up on the occurrences in each other's lives since they had last seen each other two years ago, including the psychotic tale of how Will met Madelaine and a rather disturbing story about Jack accidentally picking up a male prostitute in a bar in Europe.

"So, what does the mark look like?" Madelaine asked. "'Cause the only mark I've seen is this one." She pulled down the lace-fringed collar of her nightgown to reveal a dark red hickey on her collarbone. Will blushed a vivid crimson and Jack gave him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder while he choked over his next words. He smiled good-naturedly as his face returned to its normal color, shaking his head in consternation at his bold little fiancée. Fury laughed, producing the journal and thumbing through it until she found the page. "That's certainly an interesting little insignia."

"Aye." Fury said. Madelaine pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Let's go figure out where it is." She encouraged. They dragged the two hesitant men over and told them to start scouring the walls for the insignia. About 20 minutes later, Madelaine shouted, "I found it. Over 'ere!"

She was standing in front of the hearth with her hands on her hips. She pointed. There it was, imprinted onto the stone before the fireplace.

"I suppose we start digging, then." Will stated.

"Aye." Fury replied. "As above, so below."

One pirate, an ex-pirate, the son of a pirate, and the daughter of a siren began to dig in hopes of discovering the key to the grand treasure. Actually, jack didn't help at all, but persisted in giving random demands to the other three and barely escaping painful death by shovel as they grew annoyed with him.

Nearly three hours later, their shovels hit wood, a wooden box to be exact. They carefully unearthed the box and set it out of the hole and onto a table in the workshop, wiping bits of mud off of its sides.

"'Ell, I'm tired." Fury murmured. Her horrific concoction of a dress was now ruined, thank god, the brown mud from the earth soiling the ludicrous trappings and fabric. She wiped one dirty hand against her sweating brow, leaving a smear of dirt above her eyes. Madelaine licked her thumb and started rubbing Fury's head with it to get the dirt off until Fury fixated the small redhead with a quelling, ferocious glare and Madelaine backed off, smiling sheepishly. "Let's open the damn thing and get moving."

She lifted up her soiled skirt and reached into her left boot, pulling out a small dagger. Using it to pry open the box, she wedged it in a faint crack that was meant to be the space between the lid. After several minutes of alternate wiggling and pushing, Fury gave up.

"Bloody impossible."

"It's a matter of the right leverage." Will said, one of his favorite, self-initiated aphorisms. He grabbed the knife and put it under the exact middle of the crack and popped open the box.

"Oh, Will, ye did it!" Madelaine exclaimed, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. She smiled coquettishly, prompting him to give her a deep romantic kiss on the mouth, the kind of kiss that made the other girls in the town swoon and ache with jealousy.

"It's a bloody box." Fury muttered, disgusted at the overblown display of affection. She turned her head only to realize that she was at face level with Jack's lips.

"Are ye sure that a box isn't enough for you to give me a nice kiss?" Jack asked, grinning broadly, overconfident and pompous. Fury glared at him murderously, and then kicked him in the shin. She turned away from Jack, who was now rubbing his bruised shin, and looked into the box. All that it contained was a folded piece of grimy parchment, a silver coin, and a tiny bottle of…

"Rum!" Jack cried excitedly, snatching it up.

"Sparrow, don't ye think that ye should-I don't know- SHARE the rum?" Madelaine hinted facetiously.

"Share…it?" Jack asked incredulously. Captain Jack Sparrow share rum? The idea was preposterous. He shied away.

"Fine. 'Ave it, ye selfish pig." Madelaine muttered.

"Yes, Jack just take it. After all, ye did almost no work and so of course ye deserve ALL THE BLOODY RUM!" Fury shouted. The two women were standing with their hands on their hips, glaring at him, one as short-tempered as she was tall and the other as fiery furious as she was crimson-haired. He looked to Will for help, as a savior from the feminine brutality. Will merely shrugged and gave him an I'd-listen-to-the-women-if-I-were-you look. Jack sighed and tossed the tiny bottle to Fury. She caught it deftly and popped the cork, taking a sip and passing it to Will, who passed it to Madelaine, who drank the remainder of its contents.

"Sorry, Sparrow." She smiled mischievously, her blue and green eyes twinkling. "There's no more. 'Twas a tiny bottle, ye understand."

She handed him the empty bottle and grinned. Jack turned it upside down in disbelief and pouted. Fury and Madelaine looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Will picked the parchment out of the box and unfolded it.

"There's nothing there."

The parchment was blank.

"Probably somewhere obscure like Cuba, though." Jack murmured, lounging atop a piece of the extensive equipment Will used in his occupation as a blacksmith. Nobody paid him any heed.

"Figures." Fury muttered. "She had to be difficult."

"She?"

"The Siren. Mum."

"Mum? The Siren was yer bloody Mum?" Madelaine exploded.

"Aye. Didn't ye figure it out when ye found out my last name?"

"Yes, but somehow didn't really register. Ye 'ave to go." Madelaine said, suddenly looking worried. Will seemed alarmed by her sudden preoccupation. His eyes had been half-shut with the inherent drowsiness of their late night dig, but were now open wide in concern for his love. "Do ye 'ave any idea of the amount of trouble ye're in?"

"A slight idea."

"Ye need to leave. I don't want Verne to find me!"

"'E's after ye too?"

"Yes, ye 'ave to go."

"Thank ye for yer 'elp." Jack interrupted with a charismatic sweep of his hand. He began to usher Fury towards the door. "Nice seeing ye again, Will." Will nodded and handed him the box and its contents. The two pirates took it and left, two dark figures fleeing through the streets of Port Royal. Then, she saw him.

A man stood on the corner of a cobble-stoned street. He would appear inconspicuous to most, but Fury knew his face well. It was a face that she dreaded. It was the face of Darius Verne's third mate.

"Jack, into the alley." She hissed and shoved him, running in afterwards. "Get down!" She hissed again and they hid behind a pile of wooden crates, confusion in Jack's face from the sudden evasive tactics. Fury inhaled sharply as if it could make her invisible to his roving eye. After the man had passed, she leaned back against the wall, closed her brown eyes, and exhaled slowly.

"Alright, it's safe now." Jack said after a moment, sensing that the man she had seen was the cause of her distress. They stepped back onto the street and didn't see him, Jack striding quickly ahead and Fury following wearily after. Fury felt a hand on her shoulder after a minute. Then, the hand twisted her arm back painfully.

"Ah! Fuck!" She cursed loudly.

"'Ello, Miss Delamar."

"Augh." She panted, struggling. He put a knife to her slender throat.

"'E 'as a message for ye."

"Really?"

"'E said it's time for ye to meet 'im," he paused, grinning evilly behind her back. "And die."

"Well." She began, breathing heavily. "Tell 'im I said 'e can go to 'ell." She elbowed him in the groin while ducking her head away from the knife. She ground her heel into his foot, causing him to let go of her arm. Wheeling around, she punched him in the face, her fist solidly connecting with his nose and breaking it. A tiny stream of blood trickled from one of his nostrils. As he recovered, he pulled out his sword and she reached for hers. For the second time that night, she was dismayed to discover that it, of course, was not there.

"Shit!" She screamed as he advanced menacingly, grinning malevolently. The word was barely out of her mouth when Jack came from behind her and ran his sword through the man's wicked heart. "Mr. Smyth." Fury looked at Jack and he looked back at her. "'E's 'ere, Jack. 'E's back. Verne's men…"

"So I noticed." Jack said and his mouth contorted into a brief half-smile.

"We need to get away, if 'e is 'ere. We need to get far away. Quick."

"Let's get back to the Pearl."

"Aye."

Together, they slipped through the streets of Port Royal, hiding in the shadows as they fled. Avoiding the light, they fled through the darkness. They reached the Pearl and set sail, shortly before dawn broke.

Yay! Updating completed! This chapter actually marks the end of the first journal I started writing this in. I suppose that ripping out pages in frustration amounts in less writing space. Ah well, not much I can do there. Don't forget to review. See ya for the next chapter soon. Toodles Siren's Voice.