Disclaimer: Yarr. I be back with fresh editing teh me story. This be a load of fun to edit—I hope it be as fun to read! Before ye read, need I remind ye that I be not claimin' to own Pirates of the Caribbean. But Morgan, Walter, Rackham, Griffith, Miller, and Morgan's father be mine (and Marianne, but she not be appearin' anymore).

While I be on them, I be tellin' ye who I be thinkin' best resemble me original characters, so ye don' need to imagine too hard. Mr. Scarlet be Dustin Hoffman, Miller be Hugh Jackman like he be in Kate & Leopold, Griffith be David Beckham, Rackham be Gackt when he be havin' the long hair, and Walter be Ian McKellen when he be a younger Magneto at the beginning of X-Men 3. Morgan be a puzzler. I'll let ye know if I find a lass suitable, but until then, yer imagination be fine. That bein' said, enjoy.

Chapter 3

Morgan woke the next morning sore, cranky, and exhausted. Her face was salty and dry from crying herself to sleep the night before. Dragging herself out of bed, she found it very difficult, but not impossible, to dress herself in a brown gown. She trudged to the door and twisted the handle, but the door didn't budge. She gasped and tried again, soon grasping the handle and tugging at it with all her might. The door still refused to open. Finally giving up, she leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down until she was sitting against it. As she sat silent, she could hear the sounds of a port from behind the door. A port? Strange… our course shouldn't take us near any ports… unless we changed course…

There came a knock at the door, making her leap to her feet. A moment later Jack stood in the doorway, holding an apple in his hand. "G'mornin' luv."

Morgan glared at him, feeling her anger rekindle the moment she saw him.

Jack jumped, backing away from her a few steps. He held his hands out in front of him as if they might provide some sort of protection from her glare of death. "S-still a-a-angry, I see…" He stuttered, hesitantly offering her the apple, his trembling hand still too far away for her to reach. "I-I brought ye some food."

Morgan's anger faded slightly—just enough for her to consider accepting his offering.

Jack swallowed loudly and then finally tossed her the apple, still too nervous to approach her.

Catching the green fruit in her hands, she inspected it, trying not to seem hungry, and then looked back at Jack. "Where are we? We shouldn't be near a port, not on this course."

Jack grinned as if he had done something very clever. "Ah, well, there's been a slight change in course."

Morgan took a bite of the apple, forcing herself to maintain her manners and not devour the fruit. "How slight?"

"We're stopping in Tortuga to pick up a few more men," Jack began counting off on his fingers, "restock supplies, drop off any unwilling passengers…" his smirk widened slightly, "…stock up on rum."

Suddenly something clicked in Morgan's brain at the mention of Tortuga. She had heard a name in a story she was told when she was a girl. Jack hadn't mentioned his last name before, and now she knew why. Jack Sparrow, captain of the Black Pearl. Her pulse raced, but she forced herself to seem outwardly calm. "Where's the Pearl?"

"Figured it out, eh?" Jack chuckled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "She's in fer repairs. That's one'a the things we've also got teh check on."

Morgan blinked, half of her apple already consumed. "We?"

"I'll take ye out teh stretch yer legs," Jack motioned to the door, "but only if ye can coop'rate, of course."

•••

Morgan stepped off the Cloud Treader, letting out an exasperated sigh and crossing her arms with a frown. Jack followed behind her a moment later and, apparently very happy to be back, inhaled the port air with a grin. "Alright, come on—I'll give ye a tour," he said, setting off down the dock and tugging the rope tied around Morgan's waist behind him.

Trudging down the streets, Morgan fought to keep from plugging her nose. The stench was terrible, like a brewery next to a pigsty. Jack was greeted and slapped by three women—presumably whores. She stood straight and tried to avoid being too close to them. The farther into the town Jack led her, the more she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She feared if Jack took her too far, she would either be taken advantage of by some drunkard or be killed in a brawl.

Luckily the place Jack was leading her to wasn't too far. The pirate pulled her into a nearby tavern and led her to a table where a young woman with copper skin and straight black hair was sitting. Judging by her appearance, she wasn't a whore, which was a bit of a relief, but she definitely was a pirate. Still, Morgan had to admire her—she seemed capable of holding her own even when surrounded by men. For example, the moment she noticed Jack approaching her, the woman frowned and stood at her place.

Jack opened his arms as if to embrace her, although Morgan doubted he'd get so far. "Anna Maria!"

Her palm cracked against Jack's left cheek, snapping his head to the side.

Morgan added one to her mental tally of times Jack had been slapped in the fifteen minutes they had been on shore with a smirk. That's four…

"What'd I do now?" Jack said in what she could've sworn was a whine.

"You left me here while you sailed off in a hijacked dingy with what crew you could grab, that's what you did." Anna Maria snapped.

Morgan slipped into an empty chair at the table and waited for them to finish. She wasn't going anywhere, anyway.

"I was going to come back and pick you up, darling." He explained nervously, as if he anticipated another slap, which Morgan did.

"And how was I supposed to know that?" Anna Maria almost shouted, if she hadn't checked herself. "For all I knew, you'd left with a few crewmembers without a trace! I thought you'd gone after some big payroll you'd just discovered and wanted to split it as few ways as possible!"

For a few moments, Jack said nothing, but just stood there, chringing. "Regret'bly, part of that is true."

Crack!

Five… Morgan smirked. You're on a roll today, Mr. Sparrow…

"The part about discoverin' a big payroll!" Jack backed up slightly to avoid being slapped again. "Didn't say anythin' about not wantin' to split it wit ye. Why d'ye think I came back?"

"To check on the Pearl," she replied tersely.

Jack smiled nervously, backing up another step. "Well … how is she?"

"They're still fixing the giant hole in the bottom, cap'n," she spat the last word. Morgan did not doubt that Jack was at least partially responsible for whatever damage had been done to his ship. "They haven't even gotten to putting a new foremast on it yet."

"So it won't be too much longer, eh?" Jack smiled his trademark golden-toothed smile, as if his will alone could make the repairs go faster.

Anna Maria sighed. "It'll be about another week and a half at the rate they're going."

"Good," Jack put his hands on the table and leaned most of his weight on them. "D'ye think ye could do me a favor, luv?"

Giving him a cold look, Anna Maria heaved another heavy sigh. "What?"

"Sail 'er over towards 'ere when she's done." He slid a scrap of paper onto the table. It was almost identical to the map from the bottle, save that it was written on an immaculately clean piece of stationary Jack had probably stolen from the captain's quarters over the last day or so. He tapped his finger on the large island on the top right corner of the map.

A loud crash from the bar caused her to jump, though Jack and Anna Maria hardly seemed to notice. Morgan had been able to distract herself by focusing on the two pirates' conversation, but the moment she dropped her focus, her surroundings crashed in around her. Filthy, drunken men surrounded her, talking loudly to each other as they continued to drink. A handful of men had noticed the noblewoman sitting amidst them and were gawking openly, not bothering to hide their lecherous desires. Her blood began to pound in her ears, sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to shrink in her seat. Two men began to fight, and a brawl broke out. It was all too much—the room was closing in on her, the boisterous sounds of the tavern blurring together into one overwhelming noise. Covering her ears and shutting her eyes, she tried desperately to block it all out.

"Luv, are ye alright?" came Jack's voice above the din, surprisingly gentle as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Morgan jumped, jolting out of her chair and backing away from him. She just needed somewhere to run, to hide, to escape to. Not paying attention to where she was going, she backed into a crowd of men, bumping into several of them. Having lost track of Jack, who, although complete scum, was still the only pirate in the tavern she trusted, she felt her heart pound even harder. Trying to shrink away from the brawny, filthy drunkards surrounding her, she continued to back away, running right into a wall, where one of the bolder men pinned her against it and tried to make a move. Swinging at him wildly, her nails dug into his cheek, causing him to scream and pull away. The instant she was free, she ran, finding the exit and darting out into the street.

She had no idea where she was running. Vaguely she could hear Jack's voice behind her, yelling after her, but she couldn't stop. She needed to get away from all these pirates and back home where at least people bathed and had manners and didn't kill each other in brawls.

But it was inevitable that he would catch up with her. There came a sharp yank on the rope around her waist as Jack caught the end and tried to stop her. Morgan stopped dead, then flew backwards, bumping into Jack and hitting her head hard as she fell to the ground. She caught one last glimpse of the dirt road before she blacked out.

•••

Laying Morgan down on her bed in her cabin, Jack sat down in the nearby chair with a heavy sigh. Chasing a frantic noblewoman down the streets of Tortuga, then knocking her out accidentally and having to carry her back to the ship was tiring work. Luckily for him he brought a bottle of rum. He sat there for maybe half an hour, taking a drink every now and then, and was about to down another swig of rum when there came a groan from below him.

"No more drinking, Mr. Sparrow." Morgan moaned. "You smell like a brewery."

Startled to the point where he almost spilled his rum on her, Jack quickly placed the bottle on the desk next to him. "Mornin' luv." He smirked. "And it's Captain, if ye don't mind."

Morgan gave him a look that stated plainly, "You wish".

"Jack, then."

Morgan smirked. "In your dreams, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack sighed pointedly. "Is there anything that could possibly convince ye to call me Jack?"

Morgan thought for a moment. "Let Walter out of the brig."

Recalling the glare of death the butler had given him the moment he met him, Jack tensed. "Eh, anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"How about if I—"

"Mr. Sparrow."

"Captain. But what if I—"

"Mr. Sparrow."

"A'right!" Jack gave in, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Fine. I'll let 'im out—but he stays in this room wit' ye, an' if there's any funny business, he goes back."

Morgan was in the middle of smiling victoriously when she realized that her dress and corset were gone—all she had on was her camisole and drawers. "Mr. Sparrow, did you undress me?" she nearly shrieked, pulling the blankets up to cover herself.

"You were unconscious," Jack explained, unsure why she was so upset. "If I didn' take that corset off, ye wouldn' be able to breathe and wait a minute! It's Jack, luv—I expect ye to keep yer end o' the bargain."

"I just didn't say when."

Realizing he had been tricked, Jack frowned and sighed heavily, his eyebrow twitching slightly. "I've been had…" he muttered, his eyebrows rising. "That was good—ye'd make a good pirate, luv."

"You think so?" Morgan's grin returned. "Now hand me my clothes and turn around."

•••

"I don't trust him," Walter frowned.

"Well, of course not," Morgan rolled her eyes, smirking at the thought of Walter and Jack becoming friends. "I trust him more than the rest of the crew, though."

Walter scoffed. "Ah yes, the crew," he smirked bitterly as he crossed his legs. He sat on the chair beside her bed while she was seated at her desk, scribbling notes in her diary. "You seem rather calm about all this," he noted, his smirk widening, one eyebrow lifting. "Could it be that you have a plan?"

"The makings of one," Morgan chewed on the end of her quill. "We're under a sort of house arrest, which is more than the rest of the honest crew can say. The Cloud Treader is sailing in open waters now, so it's not like we can hop in one of the longboats and row away. No doubt Jack knows that, and he seems to have taken a liking to me, so it's only a matter of time before he lets me on deck. When that happens, I'll see what I can do."

The ship made a sudden lurch that caused both of them to nearly fall out of their chairs. Looking at each other, they barely had time to exchange surprised looks before the boat lurched again.

"It appears we've hit a storm," Walter said calmly.

A commotion of raised voices became audible through the cabin door.

"Tie down the sails!"

"Secure the cargo!"

Standing up and steadying herself against the wall as the ship lurched again, Morgan made her way to the door. With the crew busy securing the ship, she'd take her chances slipping onto the deck.

Just as she suspected, the crew was so busy that they didn't even notice her. Even when she stood in the middle of the deck, no one paid her any heed. She was drenched in seconds by a combination of rain and waves splashing over the deck, but she ignored it for the time being—now to formulate an escape.

No sooner had she thought she was in the clear when Jack yelled at her from the helm. "Morgan! What're ye doin' out of yer cabin! Get back—"

Jack was interrupted by a large wave sweeping onto the deck, knocking him backwards, forcing Morgan to cling to the mast for dear life. When the water cleared, the helm was unmanned.

Gasping at the horrible discovery she made, Morgan ran up the stairs to the stern of the ship, frantically searching the waters behind them. She could faintly see an object in the water, struggling to remain at the surface.

Something in her snapped and, abandoning all manners and properness, she searched for anything that could help. Her eyes fell on an unused rope tied to a pin on the starboard rail. She quickly grabbed the end of the rope and tied it tightly around her waist. Yanking the rope free of the pin, she took off towards the stern of the ship.

"Scarlet, what 'r ya doin'!" Gibbs yelled from behind her.

"Miss Scarlet!" Walter shouted, trying and failing to stop her.

Morgan didn't have time to answer. She prayed that the men got the hint that she was expecting them to pull her and Jack back up once she reached him. Leaping from the stern and diving into the dark water after Jack, she swam desperately towards the captain, who was faintly trying to stay afloat. "Jack!" Reaching out her hand, she grabbed a hold of his outstretched arm, and then gave a sharp tug on the rope.

"Nice to see ye, luv!" Jack smirked. "And ye called me Jack!"

At about that moment, there came a sudden jerk on the rope as Walter, Gibbs, and a few other crewmembers began pulling them back to the ship.

Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and held onto the rope with the other. "Clever, darlin'. I didn't think you cared."

Morgan was stopped from answering back any of the many snide comments that shot through her head when she noticed the ship roll over a rather large wave. As soon as the ship passed it, it breached and started rolling down towards them. She went completely still, her mind, usually filled with brilliant ideas, completely blank. That wasn't in the plan…

"Take a breath." Jack said in a voice hanging between fear and certainty, as if he knew something she didn't or was at least hoping that he did.

Reluctantly, Morgan took a deep breath. Jack mirrored her, and then, as the wave crashed over them, he grabbed her head and shoved it underwater, ducking under himself, shielding both of them from the brute force of the wave.

A second later, Morgan opened her eyes to discover her and Jack several meters under water. The sight was almost ethereal—the dark sea lit up by a single flash of lightning, the waves like abstract shapes in a painting, and the bottom of the Cloud Treader—immaculately clean, free from algae and barnacles—above them.

The tension on the rope returned, and the surface steadily approached.

But it wasn't approaching quickly enough. Morgan winced as her lungs began to burn, screaming for air. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to keep herself from inhaling and drowning. Shutting her eyes tight, she felt reflex begin to take over, and her mouth slowly opened.

A hand grasped her wrist, pulling her hand away, and a sudden warmth sealed over her mouth. Morgan's eyes flew open as a warm breath filled her lungs, temporarily quenching their thirst, greeted by a familiar face, now incredibly uncomfortably close to hers. Jack gave her a cocky grin as their lips parted.

Morgan, feeling her cheeks color, quickly looked towards the surface, which was almost upon them. She and Jack were both running low on air, and fought to hold on until they surfaced.

There came a sudden yank on the rope, and the two were wrenched from the depths of the ocean and thrown onto the deck of the ship, coughing and gasping for air, dripping from head to toe. It was completely silent for a few long moments, save the sputtering of the two swimmers. A sudden chuckle broke the silence, and quickly grew until the whole crew—save Morgan and Jack, who were still choking on seawater—was laughing with disbelief and relief.

When she finally caught her breath, Morgan got into a more comfortable sitting position and proceeded to wring the water from her hair and dress.

Jack choked out a mouthful of salt water, after having apparently swallowed a large amount of seawater, and was still coughing it all out. When he had finished gasping for air like a fish out of water, Morgan decided to lighten the mood. "It was refreshing, but I never want to do that again…"

The crew chuckled at her lighthearted jest after diving right into the arms of death.

Walter wrapped a dry blanket around her shoulders and tossed the other one to Jack. "Miss Scarlet," he said in a firm voice, looking her right in the eye, "if you ever try that again, I'll kill you myself, so please restrain yourself, or I may not be able to keep the promise I made your father." A subtle grin at the end of his scolding let her know what he could not say—that he was proud of her and relieved she was safe.

"This girl's really somethin', cap'n!" Gibbs chuckled. "I 'ad my doubts abou' 'er, but then she goes out an' pulls ye from the very jaws o' the sea! This girl ain't bad luck at all! If she be anythin', she be good luck!"

The crew cheered.

The storm had died down by then. The waves were substantially smaller, and the sky was now a slightly lighter gray. She looked to Jack, who was looking over at her at the exact same moment. They exchanged relieved grins before Morgan was forced to break the stare and laugh at the foolishness of the crew, who had begun to sing, "for she's a jolly good fellow", and rather tunelessly at that. Soon the entire ship was rolling with laughter as the Cloud Treader skimmed through the now calm blue-green sea.