Disclaimer: I don't own POTC but I did see the midnight showing of Dead Man's Chest!
Summary: After falling into Port Royal while it's being ransacked, NAKED I might add, me not Port Royal, I play into the story, annoying Jack all the way.
Rated: T for Teen
Contents: Profanity, alcoholism and sexuality.
A/N: One quicky before we begin. Jack switches between saying "you" and "ye" specifically because will watching the first and second movie, I notice that he does that anyway so, pay no heed. Thanks.
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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Purse
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Chapter 1: Take a Little Tumble, Take a Little Fall
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I stretched and uttered a deep sigh of despair. It was Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. They're one of the most boring weekdays ever invented. Monday's a bitch because it's the beginning and the only thing standing between me and the peak of the week, Wednesday for you silly people, is Tuesday. And Tuesdays seem to drag on forever. Much like Thursdays… Well, today was Tuesday and I was browsing an antique shop, bored, yes, but also hunting. Hunting for inspiration if you're wondering. I'm not a day over nineteen and I work in this big theatre as the prop master. I make and break and fix and restore props and smaller pieces of set. Occasionally I mosey down to the costume department to sew with the boys, but that's about it. Currently though, I was in a pickle. I had to find an antique black bag to replace the one that was ruined by the crew. One of the stupid assholes spilled Fanta on the last one. Fanta. Why would someone who works in a theatre bring Fanta backstage? On the last dress rehearsal? I shook my head and bent to inspect some odd machine workings in a glass case.
"Careful dearie," the counter lady croaked. She grinned with gaps. I smiled back, a little nervous. Every time I walked into this specific antique shop, I'd get a little jumpy. I don't know what makes me so antsy, but it's hella weird. The sooner I got out of here the better. I swirled around and spotted two black handbags. I snatched those off the shelf before striding over to the counter. One was a velvety material that felt good in my hands. The other, I'm not quite sure what it was. The fabric was thick and stiff but I decided to get both of the anyway. Hilda might want to choose between the two. Hilda was the manager of the costume department and even though the bag was a prop, it was also technically a costume piece. The counter lady stared at the stiff bag for a long time before I cleared my throat.
"Will it just be these?" she looked up at me through her fly away gray hair,
"Yeah. This'll be fine." I reached for my wallet and paid the price before hurrying out. I couldn't relax until I got inside my car and turned on the radio. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the insane rhythm of my heart. This was crazy! Why should I get so worked up over going inside a hardly impressive antique shop? Brushing it off, I headed towards the theatre, hoping Hilda would approve of the bags so I could go home. When I did get there, Hilda practically pounced on me. She scrutinized over every detail but I knew she had made up her mind the moment she saw the two bags.
"This one." She sniffed, leaning against a sewing table. She fingered the brass clasp on the velvet bag, bored and turned away. "You can go home now." Hilda instructed in a voice that reminded me of an aristocrat. I rolled my eyes.
"What about this other bag?" She shrugged,
"We're not going to use it. You're probably going to have to keep it. Besides, antique shops don't do returns." And she walked away. I sighed and headed back to my car. After sitting in front of the wheel staring blankly, I shrieked. That woman was so hideously annoying that I don't believe the devil could annoy me any further. I started the ignition and pulled out the parking lot, grumbling.
"God!" I finally said out loud, "Why does that woman have to be such a prissy bitch?"
"Maybe she hasn't been laid yet." Came a voice. I slammed on the breaks in the middle of the street and looked around my car wildly. There was no one except the black bag in the passenger seat. My eyes darted around and I resumed driving, white knuckled and dark eyes a little wide.
"Who's there?" I felt stupid and my voice sounded a little funny. Someone sighed and then everything was quite. Panicking, I sped up, going a mile or two above the speed limit and practically skidded into my driveway. Grabbing the bag, I bolted inside, turned the lock and rushed into the kitchen. I tried to make some tea, hoping the aromas would calm me down. I did a few deep breathing exercises. I know, I know. I probably sound kinda extreme, but someone just fucking answered my question when I was alone in my car. You could say I was a little unnerved. Flopping down on a chair, I curled up in a sort of protective ball. It was cold in my house and I was too lazy to get a blanket or turn on the heat. I set my mug down and reached for the bag. I held it for a moment and then proceeded to what some people call "obsessive nit-picking". The silver clasp was broken and wouldn't open. I screwed around with it, shaking, prying and pulling until the bag popped open. It had a musty sort of smell and a cloud of dust erupted in my face. I coughed, turning my head away and fanning the air. Taking another peek inside, I say something white and glimmering at the bottom of the bag.
"Hmm…" I slid my hand in. I didn't feel anything. Frowning, I reached in further until my entire forearm was in the bag. My arm still in the bag, I looked inside again. There was that white hot glimmer and it seemed only to be a few inches away. I stretched my fingers and reached again. With my face and arm in the bag, I heard a choking noise, like someone with a piece of food caught in their throat. Then, a swallowing noise and I was sucked into the bag towards the glimmer. It dazzled my eyes and I fell into a blind state of white.
When I regained my sight I felt the wind whipping my hair as I fell faster and faster. I screamed and fell through linens that were drying on a line. I went from clothes line to clothes line, getting closer to the ground until I landed in a pile of hay with a loud, "Oof!" I sat up, groaning and pulling bits of hay out of my hair. There was screaming and wild inane laughter. I felt the glow of fire and the air reeked of seared flesh. My senses kicked in and I made to stand up in order to carry out my animal instincts. Running away. I wasn't a coward, but with my current position I doubt anyone would argue. I stood and felt the linens slip to the ground.
I was naked. Perfect.
Snatching the sheets off the ground I toga-ed myself and ran out to get a sense of bearings. Pirates and civilians ran past me, small explosives were going out and I saw a pirate club Orlando Bloom over the head with a hatchet. Orlando Bloom plus pirates must equal… Pirates of the Caribbean!
"Well I'll be damned," I whispered, "I'm in the Curse of the Black Pearl." And something stiff and black hit me square on top of my head. "Fuck!" I stumbled from the impact and whirled around. There, lying on the ground as innocently as possible was the taut antique bag I had purchased while I was still sane. I looked around. The pirates seemed to be retreating, but I was in a sheet. Not quite knowing what I was doing, I scooped up the bag and ran. Rounding several corners and avoiding several large objects, I ended up tripping down some stone stairs.
"Shit!" Oohh that was gonna hurt in the morning. I landed awkwardly on my shin and I heard my knee pop. "Motherfucker," I groaned. I dislocated my knee. "Shit, shit, shit, shit…" Leaning against the cold wall, I hobbled down the stairs, trying not to cry out in pain. Breathing heavily, I made it to the bottom and slummed against a table with a coat and pistol and cutlass on it. I froze. Not without my effects. Runs through my mind.
"Jack?" I wheeze. A man looked up from the center cell and gave me an odd look. Oh God. I must look ridiculous, wrapped in a sheet, my dark hair everywhere. One hand gripping the bag, the other holding up my toga, I limped over and slid down to the floor. I moaned as my knee made contact with the metal weaving.
"Wha's wrong love?" That look is still in his eyes and it felt weird that he hadn't asked how I knew him or why I'm dressed like a loon. It felt weird that I'd so easily accepted that I'm in the Caribbean in what's supposed to be a movie for Christ sakes!
"Jack." My breath is still coming out in pants and I feel the toga slid a little.
"Is tha' all you know 'ow ta say love?" he chuckled. I glower.
"Shut up." I hiss, "I've dislocated my knee."
"Funny accent you got there love," he states, sliding his hands through the weave. His skin seemed to burn as his finger tips brushed against my knee.
"I'm not from here." It had gotten easier to breathe and I felt myself yawn.
"I noticed," he replied and with a sudden jerk, he grips, twists and I feel the joint fit back into the socket. I screamed and fell back on the hard ground.
"Thanks for the warning." I snapped. He chuckled again.
"Anytime love. Anytime."
We stayed silent for a bit before he looked at me and said,
"So 'ow do ye know me name?"
I really didn't feel like explaining. I mean honestly, I'm pretty sure he'd sooner kiss Will then believe the story I've got to tell.
"Well," I hesitated.
"Well?" he prompted with a dashing smile. I sighed. This was going to be a long night.
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"So tha' means, ye know what's going ta happen?"
I nodded and rubbed my eyes tiredly.
"But yer not going ta tell me because it might change what's going ta happen."
"That's right." I raise an eyebrow.
"Aye," he nodded sagely, "Tis for the best it seems."
"Aye," I agree.
"So, what's the future like?" he propped his chin up on his hand and looked at me intently with his russet eyes. I frowned. This really didn't seem like the Jack Sparrow I 'knew'.
"Do all the girls dress like ye?" Now that's the Jack Sparrow I was talking about! I rolled my eyes,
"No. It's not. I'm just like this because when I arrived here, I-" I felt the blush creep up on my skin and my face gets a little warm, "I was naked." And I sort of ducked my head.
"Naked?" he raised an eyebrow, an indecent smirk christening his lips.
"Yeah." I felt my face color a bit more.
"And uh. Why did ye decide to wear a sheet?" He flirted. I let out an exasperated sigh.
"Because I didn't wanna get shagged in the middle of a dirt street by someone I didn't know."
He didn't respond, only looked at me with a roguish manner. I tried to flick his nose through the cell door, but he caught my hand. His hands were cough and calloused. A sailor's hands. His long fingers had a playfully tight grip on my wrist, the way one might hold a cutlass. A killer's hands. For some reason, I pulled away and absentmindedly rubbed my wrist. When I looked up, he had a bit of an understanding look, almost like he knew what was running through my head. I cast my eyes down again, feeling a bit ashamed a also, a little bit sad. I sighed. It was getting light out, might as well catch a few minutes sleep since I knew what was coming next. I closed my eyes and slipped surprisingly easily into a bleak and dreamless sleep.
A light was bright and relentless on my face and I prayed I was at home and had merely fallen asleep in my chair. I opened my eyes. No such luck. Maybe God hated me. I squirmed a bit. Jack was trying to pick the lock with a bone. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned.
"Awake love?"
"Awake." I consented.
"Would ye mind helping me a bit?" he grunted. Before I could answer, we both heard someone running down the steps. Glancing at each other. He threw himself backwards, feigning sleep. I stood, rolling my eyes, trying to make myself look decent. William Turner scampered in, looking all heroic and shit.
"Miss," he exclaimed, his rage wilting, "You shouldn't be down here!"
"Oh, get on with it," I gestured to Jack. Giving me and odd look (What is it with Caribbean men?) he resumed his anger,
"You, Sparrow!" Jack didn't bother getting up,
"Aye."
"You are familiar with the ship, the Black Pearl?" Will asked.
"I've heard of it," Captain Sparrow said nonchalantly.
"Where does it make berth?" Will asked.
"Where does it make berth? Have you not heard the stories?" Captain Sparrow said incredulously. Will stayed silent, and I thought I saw a trace of embarrassment.
"Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants sailed from the dreaded Isla de Muerta. It's an island that cannot be found…" The pirate began, his voice heavy with boredom and lingering with disgust.
"Except by those who already know where it is," I finished. This was taking far too long. Will looked a bit startled and Jack grinned at me in a knowing way.
"Are you a pirate?" he asked suspiciously.
"Why, yes my dear, did you not know?" My response dripped with sarcasm. Will glanced at Jack before saying,
"Then I suppose you could help me," he turned to me,
"Ah, ah, ah!" I pulled away, "You'll be wanting to take him with you." I pointed at Jack. Will became quiet, studying Jack with an undeniable amount of hatred.
"The ship's real enough," he finally said, "Therefore its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?"
"Why ask me?" Jack inspected his nails. I stifled a giggle and luckily, they didn't notice.
"Because you're a pirate." He sounded a bit exasperated and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for the poor guy. A slow smile spread across Jack's face. God, he seemed so easily amused,
"And ye want ta turn pirate yerself, is that it?"
"Never! They took Miss Swann." I rolled my eyes. Jack raised his dark eyebrows,
"Oh, so it is that ye found a girl. I see." Jack glanced at me. 'Hurry up' I mouthed, "Well, if you're intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue and so win fair lady's heart you'll have to do it alone, mate. I see no profit in it for me."
"I can get you out of here," Will said suddenly. Oh boy. He was desperate.
"How's that? The key's run off." I laughed.
"I helped build these cells. They're half pin-barrel hinges." He picked up a bench rather easily and I moved out of the way as he placed it at the bottom of the door, "With the right leverage and the proper application of strength, the door will lift free." Jack studied him for a moment.
"What's yer name?"
"Will Turner," Will answered, a bit confused. I stayed silent in the background.
"That would be short for William, I measure. Good, strong name. No doubt named for your father, am I right?"
"Yes," Will nodded and I could feel the suspicion and tension coming off him.
"Uh-huh. Well, Mr. Turner, I've changed me mind. If you spring me from this cell I swear on pain of death I shall take you to the Black Pearl and your bonny lass. Do we have an accord?" They shook hands through the iron weaving,
"Agreed." Will said firmly.
"Agreed," Jack nodded, "Get me out." He glanced at me, "Maybe ye'd like to help lassie? Right up in the front so ol'Jack can see ye…" I glared, knowing exactly what he was implying. I gripped the front of my toga,
"Pervert," I snapped,
"Pirate," He explained. Will pushed down on the bench and with a loud clang, the door came free,
"Hurry. Someone will have heard that," Will looked at me questioningly as I followed, bag in hand.
"Not without my effects." Jack seized his personals and we departed.
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Done! Now, on to chapter 2!
