Disclaimer: Owning nothing except..well, nothing.

A/N: Smithy is right if you've been reading the reviews. So thanks for bringing that up! If any of you are interested in what piracy was really like, you should definately read David Cordingly's book. It's very informational.

Look for some backstory on Morgan!

Chapter 11

"Time to see the Captain," Lefty growled as he unlocked the door to Jack's cell and pulled him to his feet. The weather beaten pirate was one of Jonathan's men who had received his name from the fact he had lost his arm in a sea battle. With his good arm, Lefty nudged Jack up the stairs. Being a little weak from his daily diet of bread and water, Jack had to be forcibly pushed up parts of the stairs. Jack was only a lightweight compared to Lefty, whose weight was nearly double that of Jack's even though he only had the use of one arm. Lefty's talents as a pirate didn't seemed to be hindered by the use of one arm and it didn't seem to bother Jonathan who was glad to have such a man on his side.

The one armed man brought Jack into the small cooking area of the Cicatriz, tossing him onto the floor in front of Jonathan in a heap. Jack lay there for a moment, trying to get enough strength to pull himself off the floor and look up to whom he supposed was Morgan. The surprise came when he found himself looking up into the face of Jonathan Meade, a man he had know years before as a young boy.

"Good afternoon Mr. Sparrow. It's been a long time, hasn't it Jack?" he said before the stunned pirate was knocked out from behind.

...

Morgan was well on her way into Allenport, looking for Tuck and Lars whom he had promised her a mug of rum and a game of knife throwing, which was one of her favorites. She had always found knives to be her favorite weapon of choice and always carried at least two on herself at all times, knowing that a loading pistol might not always work. Morgan had even placed an order for a specific two bladed knife to be made especially for herself at the town's blacksmith shop the last time Morgan had been there and tomorrow morning she would be picking up the finished product. She hoped she'd have something to try it out on after that time, perhaps on the next person who crossed her.

She was a bit annoyed to see so many red coats in Allenport this day. Morgan had never seen them here before and it seemed to her that she would soon have to find a new town since this one was now under the watch of the British as well. White had enough run-ins with them to know that she didn't like them very much. She didn't like them very much at all. Out of all the enemies on her list, she would consider them to be the worse of all. At the moment, her anger was rising slowing towards them as she realized that three of them had just followed her down the alley.

"Captain White, I presume?" one of them asked.

She turned and looked him over, studying the other two who were waiting for some sign to move in on her. Morgan smirked to herself, realizing that three of them wouldn't get the job done. How stupid could their Navy be? She was Captain Morgan White. It wouldn't be too hard for her to escape from them.

"Who wants to know?" she asked finally.

"Lieutenant Ricks, Madam. If you are Captain White, our commanding officer would like to have a few words with you," the soldier replied, taking a step closer to her.

"I'm not interested," Morgan replied coldly as she stood her ground.

"I'm sorry Miss White," the Lieutenant said, bravely taking a step closer. "You are White, aren't you? You'll have to come along with us," Ricks insisted.

She watched him cautiously, her hand already on the knife in her belt. "I don't think you've got the right person," Morgan replied slowly before quickly pulling her first knife out and lodging it into the chest of the man behind her.

Ricks had his musket ready and as she moved from his line of fire, he stopped suddenly as a knife wedged its way into his back from the man who stood up the street. The other soldier looked on in shock which gave Morgan enough time to knock him down into a crumbled heap with the butt of the fallen man's musket.

Her heart thumped loudly as she looked down the alley to find her cook, Philip, standing there. She smiled gratefully at him before pulling her knife from the fallen officer.

"That's another time I owe you my life," Morgan said, cleaning her knife on the dead man's clothes.

"Think of it as repaid from the many times your father saved my own," Philip replied as he walked towards the fallen bodies to retrieve his knife.

Morgan seemed to stiffen at the mention of her father. "He was talented, was he not?"

Philip shook his head. "Not talented, Morgan. He was a respectable man, even as a pirate. He reached for his knife. "Jack is too, you know."

"Jack?" Morgan exclaimed as she whirled towards him. "Jack does not belong in the same category as my father! He's a thief," she snarled.

Philip sighed. "I will not argue the facts with you, lass. How long has it been since you've had that hate for Sparrow? I know when it began, I was there and it has nothing to do with Jack himself, ye know that don't you?"

Morgan stared at him. The years that he had been with her father and now with her as a pirate were coming back to haunt her. Philip knew her too well to let this continue any farther. "We should leave," she said finally as she glanced down at the bodies before them. "Gather the crew and bring them back to the dock. I'll meet you on the way," Morgan replied before turning and walking from Philip's sight.

He sighed looked down at the men before him. Philip knew she'd be alright for the time being. Morgan would find some place to hide from the soldiers on their way back to the ship and then she'd meet up with them. He knew she needed to think about what he said. He had watched these years as she had grown up with hate burning in her soul and it was now that Philip couldn't stand it anymore. Henry White wouldn't have wanted his daughter like that.

Morgan stood in the darkness of the alley closest to the dock, staring solemnly into the night. There would be no celebrating tonight. The British weren't here for just a mere vacation. They were here for her and she knew it. Morgan knew she wouldn't be safe in Allenport again and neither would any of her men. They needed to get back to the Cicatriz but she couldn't gather them together. That's what fueled her anger. She felt useless again, just like the day they had killed her father.

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to forget how she had witnessed her father being hung. She was only sixteen at the time and he had been a pirate for only the last eight years of his life. He had been a good sailor until then and it was after he left her behind when she was six that he began to change. He didn't come back for two years and when he returned, there was something strange about him. Henry White wasn't the same father she had known.

She had stayed with Philip during that time. He had always been a pirate and a friend that Henry White could count on. He never spoke again of that trip but now, at twenty-two, Morgan was closer to finding out some of the answers she had wondered about her father that had plagued her for years.

...

"Why Jack Sparrow, don't you recognize me?" Jonathan asked his captive who was reawakening from where he lay on the floor. "It was many years ago when you marooned me from your ship. Too bad you didn't kill me when you had the chance. That mistake will cost you."

"Jonathan Meade," Jack grumbled, the back of his head throbbing from the hit he had taken. "A cabin boy's duties never did include stealing from his own crew."

"So you do remember me then?" Meade said, admiring his reflection with a smile in one of Philip's cooking knives.

"How could I forget the mad cabin boy who chopped the cook's own hand off. I remember his cooking was bad but not bad enough to kill him over," Jack replied dryly as he began to sit up, his head throbbing every time he moved.

"And how is your own hand? Still have that cut I gave you years ago?" Jonathan asked, eyeing the cloth thaw was wrapped around Jack's wrist and hand. "Would you like the other one to match it?" he asked with a fire in his eyes before snatching Jack's wrist up onto the counter top.

Jack winced at the strange position that Jonathan had pulled his wrist into but he knew there would be worse pain to come. He could see the large butcher's knife that Meade brandished in his hand and it wouldn't be long before he would feel the blade of it biting into his skin.

"You know, I had Morgan keep you just for me. I think she did a very good job of it too. Did she treat you well? Hmm?" Jonathan asked as he brought the blade down slowly onto Jack's wrist.

"I bet she's dead by now. I saw British soldiers patrolling this island looking for her. She did a very bad thing killing the Commodore's niece. He's very angry," Jonathan paused for a moment as he contemplated the knife that was pressing into his enemy's wrist. "Do you think I should just cut the whole thing off, Jack?"

Jack Sparrow bit down hard onto his tongue as he felt the butcher's knife pierce through his skin. Jonathan was going painfully slow and it would be hours before Jack knew anyone could help him. By then it might be too late.

There was nothing Jack could do. Every time he opened his eyes, he could see Meade's man watching him. His weapons had been confiscated by Morgan at the time of his capture and although he still had a knife inside his boot, there would be no way he could kill them both without being killed himself. Jack saw no way out of this situation without a little help. Lucky for him, his help had just arrived.