:) Goodie for the readers. I've actually written another chapter to this rather abandoned forgottenfic. Hopefully with summer close at hand I'll have a lot of time to write, not too mention a lot of inspiration with the movie just a few short months away. Egads! I can't wait!

As usual, I don't own anything or anyone but Mara Jane McArthur. Everything else is copyright Disney and I'm not earning a dime writing this thing.

Now onto the fic!

(Hopefully I've fixed the Jack morphing into Barbossa thing. Seriously, that was one disturbing realization. Jack with an accent on paper equals Barbossa. Yuck. Let's not do that to the poor fellow, folks.:P)


Paper Heart

As the wind blows through my dread locked hair, and cools my tanned flesh I almost feel adventure once again swooping down on me like an enemy pirate attacking from above. It's a feeling one never forgets. Once you've had the feeling, you crave it, like rum, it's an addiction you cannot escape, nor can it be ignored. I hold tightly to the crow's nest, lest I should fall, almost willing myself not to. It's a constant danger, but so is the life I live.

The life of a pirate.

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Entry 788

I don't think I have ever been as relieved as I am now. I'm cold and I'm wet, but Miss McArthur is actually sleeping. Sleeping. I never thought I'd find that word so beautiful- so magical. It was a struggle to get that far; a struggle which nearly ended in death for the girl. It did end, though, in the Black Pearl missing a chunk of railing. And that's a bloody nightmare.

It all started with my ignorance of the fact that Mara can't swim. If I had, I wouldn't have endangered her so much by bringing her aboard a ship where she would be surrounded by water, with every instinct telling her she needs to escape. That would have been stupid. Unfortunately, I didn't know she couldn't swim, so I had no idea not to pick her for my little charade. After my ignorance, came my selfishness. That's what started me on the idea to quiet the her down by trapping her on a single wooden pole over water, in which she has no idea how to swim. Really, all I was thinking about was getting that girl to shut bloody up. I was stressed, and busy, and she was making my life worse. Well, she decided she'd had quite enough of me, as I had already decided the same about her, so as soon as I let her off the bowsprit she sprung from my grip and fled across the deck. Gibbs, my first mate, saw her and with a couple quick steps had gotten in front of her. Shrieking, she tried to dodge him, but he side stepped and blocked, then reached for her arm. She panicked when he did that and took two steps back, then tripped over a rope which sent her flying backwards into the railing. Of course, it promptly cracked and gave way. As she plummeted into the warm Caribbean waters below, I heard Gibbs let loose a curse under his breath. A curse which I wanted to take into my throat and scream, just to let out all my frustrations. Instead, I just stared at Gibbs who shrugged and went to the edge and looked down. His eyes widened and he turned to me, mouth pressed shut. "She's not comin' back up, Cap'n." I sighed then, and quite reservedly, removed my outer clothing: my hat, my coat, and my effects.

"I guess I'll be saving her, then." I walked to the edge and looked down. The still perturbed water held no sign of anything coming back up, so I jumped.

How many times has a woman jumped from my ship, either upset or angry with me, and I've had to save her? I really doubt I will ever know exactly. Too many to count.

Thankfully, she didn't struggle at all when I found her and grabbed her by the arm. Then I signaled, and Gibbs let down a rope which I tied around Miss McArthur's waist. Minutes later, we were back on deck. The moment I dropped her from my grasp she dragged her drenched body a foot away and collapsed in a slightly curled, fetal position, spluttering up sea water. She stared at me out of the corner of her eye and I stood and took back my effects from Gibbs, silently redressing myself. As I strapped my effects in place, I looked to Gibbs, probably looking more angry than I intended, for Miss McArthur shrank the moment I said, rather harshly, "Take her back down to the brig."

With a "Come along, little Missy.", Gibbs dragged her up by the arm and led her down the steps to the brig. She glanced back, and looking much frightened, never looked back again. After that, I hear from my first mate, that she fell asleep on the cot in her cell, almost immediately. And, well, it's about bloody time!

The whole purpose of the adventure has turned out a dud anyhow. My intention of keeping the Brits at bay, should they come within firing range, was never called upon. Either they weren't really after us, or the Pearl has gotten faster as she's aged. Whichever, it made putting Miss McArthur in all that danger utterly pointless.

In fact, I'm getting a steadily growing inclination that we won't need the girl for much longer. She'll be back in Port Royal before she knows it.

And I'll be finally rid of the bane of my existence.

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"Commodore, they've out-run us, sir."

"Good." Norrington turned his face to the breeze. "I thought for a moment that perhaps Sparrow had gained a spine since I last tangled with him. Wondered if he might stay and fight—but no—he's run again, as I expected."

"Next course of action, sir?" Gillette asked with a lift of his chin.

Norrington turned and with brisk, authoritative steps, headed toward the helm. "We will pursue them and will appear in and out of their range of vision for the next week. Nothing more can be done until we receive the ransom notice. Which, I hope, we will receive more quickly if we make this villain sweat."

Gillette nodded, and with a bow turned and headed to the main mast, his voice crying out the new orders.

Norrington went abaft, but stopped at the door to the captain's cabin and went inside. "Sparrow thinks he can get away with these persistent crimes but he's going to find my zero tolerance methods are no longer amused by him." The Commodore muttered as he pulled a bottle of wine from a shelf. "I will not sit by as he ruins the reputation of yet another innocent, young girl—particularly one engaged to marry my own nephew. No. This won't go over well at all." He poured himself a small glance and seated himself to take a few sips. "This time, Sparrow, you won't be able to side-step my noose."

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Mara McArthur awoke to a strong lightheadedness and a bad case of the shivers. A loud and painful growl in her stomach made her sit up with the urge to find food. She held a sweaty hand to her perspiring forehead and looked around her cell—utterly at a loss as to how she would get the vittles she needed. She stood on trembling legs and took a step toward her cell door, a weak and hoarse cry rising from her throat. She clutched it and winced.

Alas! It burned more than her face. Unable to speak, she moved steadily closer to the bars, clutching her stomach as she went. More than once she nearly fell, her eyes shifting and lolling back into her head, but she stayed upright until she was able to reach out and cling to the bars themselves. At this point, she was unable to steady herself any longer. The floor moved with great speed toward her and her head unintentionally found a way to make noise with the aid of the walls of her prison. The clang resounded throughout the hold for a few seconds, but she did not hear it.

Jack shut his journal with an angry growl. He had just sat down to attempt another entry when the most irritating clang arose from the brig—though it was for the first time that morning, it was the fiftieth time in the past three days. He waiting for a moment to see if his captive would continue her clatter and was surprised to hear nothing but the crew's voices out on deck. Pursing his lips, he stood and headed out of his cabin, around the corner, and down the steps to the Black Pearl's innards. He took the left and went down more steps to the brig. The sight that met him was more than exasperating.

The girl was sprawled on the floor against the bars of her cell, one arm tangled beneath her as if it were wrapped around her stomach and the other outstretched between the bars. She had obviously collapsed.

Resisting the urge to rush into the cell and take immediate, unplanned action, he gathered his strewn thoughts and made a decision. He had made yet another blunder on this venture. He hadn't given the girl a change of clothes out of her wet ones before exiling her in anger into his cold dungeon. By the flushed color of her face, he guessed she'd caught some kind of sickness containing a fever and, upon waking in such state, had collapsed against the cell and was promptly knocked unconscious. (Though, he doubted whether being unconscious came before or after the fall.) She had to be made well again, was all that was certain in his mind. For, if there was no girl, there was no ransom and there was more certainty that revenge for the adventure would be sought whole-heartedly. He turned and silently returned to the deck where he found Anamaria astern at the helm and Gibbs amidships fixing some rigging on the main mast. He called them both over.

"The girl—Miss McArthur—she needs tending to. I'm leaving her care up to the two of you. Take her from the brig to my cabin and give her whatever she needs."

Gibbs glanced at Anamaria, then shading his eyes from the sun squinted at Jack with a sort of grimace. "Has something happened, Cap'n?"

"Something of sorts. I think you'll be able to easily figure it out once you see her." Jack brushed past the two of them and, with jaw set tight, put his hands to the work of guiding the Pearl to her destination. He didn't acknowledge Anamaria's 'Aye-aye' nor Gibbs grumblings about the trouble with having a woman aboard (which was silenced anyhow by Anamaria via infuriated glare) as the pair headed down to the brig. Nor did he even glance at them as they returned and went inside his room carrying the pale Mara McArthur between them. He had made his decision.

It was all his own fault.

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Entry 789

For the first time in nearly six months, my room is not my own. How long will I be forced to share it with the girl? Well, rather, the girl and Anamaria, seeing as neither of them trust me.

In my opinion, to even touch that girl by accident is to sell your soul to the devil, so I wouldn't try something with her even if we were the last man and woman on Earth. All of civilization will perish and turn to ash and I will not help make clones of that evil, loud, and obnoxious wench.

Strong words perhaps, but even as she lays sleeping, and as I sit here waiting for her fever to break so she can return to the brig, I loathe her presence. Just thinking about how much she lets her mouth run makes me cringe. In fact, I don't even want to think about how loud she's going to get when she wakes up, finds herself in my cabin, and realizes she was on the brink of death thanks to my stupidity. I'll never hear the end of it.

But even while I wish she wasn't here I have this urge to make up to her my mistake. It was my fault, after all, that she's in this mess and even more my fault that she's sick. No matter how much I hate her, I still have a heart. I pity her position and the guilt upon me for causing her to be ill is the heaviest of such a load that I've carried in quite some time. I wish I'd done better by her, in all aspects, because it is my fault.

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Mara could feel warm sunlight on her face and she opened her eyes to greet it. For a moment, she felt as if she was home again, in her bed, with the sun streaming in her window and the bed covers just so warm—she was disappointed to find that she was not at home. However, as she studied the room she found it curious to note her captor, Jack Sparrow, hunched over something at the writing desk, intent on writing. His hand moved swiftly and his face held an expression of agitation and something else she wasn't sure of. Just a grimace, perhaps? She studied him for a moment longer before shifting to find a more comfortable position. Why was she in here anyway? The Captain's hand halted from its work, and he relinquished a heavy sigh.

"How are you feeling?"

The question surprised her, to say the least, but she calmly answered it. "A bit under the weather, I suppose, but I can't say I feel perfectly ill." At this point she suddenly recalled what had happened in the brig. "Was I ill for very long?"

"No. Its only been a day and a half. Your illness was marked by a high fever and that alone. Under Anamaria's care it was easily broken and you were returned to being well." Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He turned his eyes to her and opened his mouth as if to say something, but clamped it shut again, thinking better.

Mara blinked a few times and took a deep breath, still trying to fully awaken herself. A sudden realization made her glance under the covers, eyes widening in fear. "How dare you!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not sure I understand-"

"You filthy pirate! How dare you have undressed me! Why- why- that's practically rape and hope you didn't go that far!" Mara sat straight up, covering herself entirely in the blanket. "Tell me," she said through clenched teeth, her voice level rising. "how far did you go. I demand to know what evil you've done to me in my sleep and I've no doubt that I fell ill just so you could do with me as you pleased!" A teardrop formed in her eye. "How dare you. Filthy pirate!"

Jack felt the words slap him, but kept his face emotionless. "I did nothing of the sort. Anamaria did the undressing. I didn't dare touch you as you slept because I already-" He turned back to his work on the desk and stared at it. "I already owed you too much."

"What?" Mara curled under the blanket's cover more, considering the gravity of a pirate apologizing to his hostage. "You think you're in debt to me…?"

"I've done wrong by you, yes, and I owe you for my mistakes." Jack stood and moved across the room to his liquor cabinet. "I've put you in more dangers than I usually would with my captives; and it was because I didn't stop to think that you were made to return to the brig still wet and shivering—an error on my part that I need to make-up for." He pulled out a bottle of rum and took a quick mouthful. "However, seeing the interest in your eyes and how quickly your mind works now to think of someway to profit by my words, I will be the one to decide what must be done to correct my error. It's my guilt, luv, that makes me say what I have, and not some debt to you."

Mara watched as Jack propped himself up on the table by both arms, hunching over his rum. She could feel a sarcastic remark rising within herself, but swallowed it quickly. "Thank you."

Jack flicked his gaze to the girl then back to his rum. "I drink too much." He mumbled, returning the drink to its place. He sighed. "Did my ears truly succumb to drunkenness or did you really just say 'thank you'?"

"I really just said thank you, Captain Sparrow."

Jack stood in silence for a second, pondering what this could mean, but was interrupted by Anamaria's return.

"I've got the dress all cleaned up and dried, so I'll put her back in it before she wakes up and she won't be any the wiser-" The Negro female halted in course as she realized the young girl was sitting up and staring straight at her. She turned her head to look at her Captain. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, luv."

"Of all the blasted things… I'm sorry, Captain."

Jack nodded and motioned to Mara. "Just finish taking care of her. I'm going for a walk."

Anamaria nodded and turned her attention to Mara as Jack disappeared out the door. "So," She pulled the desk chair over to the bedside and sat down. "you're feeling better. Had to pull you from the grave, I did." She smiled as Mara's face whitened. "Just teasing, actually. The Captain was upset about it enough that one might've thought you were already pushing up daisies, but he's always been melodramatic." She held out the girl's dress to her. "I took you being asleep as a chance to pry this thing from you and clean it, since I figured you'd never agree to it while you were awake."

"You figured correctly." Mara said, taking the article of clothing. "But I leave it up to you to decide if I'm teasing just the same."

Anamaria let out a laugh and nodded, still smiling. "Alright. I deserved that. But you should know I only cleaned it for your own happiness."

Mara's smile fell from her face. "I won't be happy while I'm here, no matter what you do."

Anamaria sighed. "I know. It'll be over soon enough. We've just got to get the ransom money and you'll be as free as ever." She stood, shaking her head as Mara's tear streaked face was hidden in the folds of blanket. "Get dressed. You can't hide in here forever." She frowned when Mara's response was muffled in the sheets, completely inaudible. "I mean it. I expect you in clothes when I come back."

Mara shoved one lip forward, pouting as Anamaria disappeared outside. She stood, the blanket still wound around her body and fingered her dress where it lay on the bed. She glanced behind her and around the room to be sure she was alone before allowing the blanket to slide from her shoulders. She stepped into her dress and buttoned it up. She moved towards the door but stopped when she passed the desk where she noticed that a small, hand-sewn book lay a quill pen beside it. Pulling the desk chair from the bedside she sat down at the desk and opened the book. Her eyes widened as she quickly realized what the book was. "Why, Sparrow is keeping a journal!" She read a few pages, her stomach slowly turning to lead and sinking before she skipped to the last entry. At first, she felt like storming out on deck and slapping the man, but as she reached the end of the entry where he had been interrupted by her awakening she found herself wondering if she had been right about him. "He's so human." She muttered softly. "I can hardly blame him for what he feels as his opinions are nearly the same as my own." She giggled to herself as she picked up the pen and pressed it to the paper. "I don't agree with his opinions of myself, as he's entirely wrongon those points, I'll have to correct him at once."

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Entry 789

(As Continued by Miss Mara Jane McArthur)

Dear Captain Sparrow,

I find your show of heart quite moving. I only wish you would show it in public, because you might find yourself with more allies. However, I'm disappointed in your opinion of me. I had no idea I was a wench. I admit though, that I may have added to the build-up of distaste which caused these feelings. Had we met under normal circumstances, either as strangers on the street or at church or at a social event you would have found me far more polite. Perhaps, still suspicious of your intentions if you were dressed as you normally do (dirty and whatnot), but my wrath towards you would not have been as severe as it has been. How could you have expected anything but anger since you stole me from my home, threatened my life, and endangered my propriety. I could not be silent! You are a pirate, Captain Sparrow, and I am a woman of the upper class. You cannot expect me to hold you in any kind of esteem considering your position. Just remember, I am not the one to be pitied. I still have my propriety, my money, my family, and my friends back home. You, sir, have destroyed everything worth having in life by your choices. For that, I pity you.

Most sincerely,

Miss Mara Jane McArthur

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Mara closed the journal, satisfied with her actions. She put the pen back in its holder but nearly knocked it over when she was startled by the door to the captain's cabin opening. Anamaria's entered looking first to the right then to the left as she finally spotted the female hostage.

"I see you're up and about. Well, I'd say you're ready to eat something, in that case. Come along. The cook will make something for you down in the galley."

Mara hurried to catch up as Anamaria headed back out the door obviously anxious to get back to work. She sent a knowing glance and a smile back at the journal, still resting on the desk, and closed the cabin door behind her. She watched the floor as she walked, keeping to herself her satisfied smile, but a familiar voice caused her head to snap up a startled expression pressed upon her face. "Captain Sparrow!"

"You're awful happy to be escaped from my cabin."

Mara crossed her arms defiantly, but remembering the journal, uncrossed them and softened her expression. "I'm happy to be getting some food after being most unpleasantly starved for two days."

"Ah. Well, that would please any poor soul." Jack fingered his pistol and stared at it, suddenly finding it remarkably interesting. "I thought I would start closing my guilt by asking if there was any one object you wished you had which I might be able to obtain for you."

"I'd like a journal and pen set, actually." Mara dared not look at the pirate captain for a moment, wondering if he would suspect what she had done.

"That's truly what you want? A journal, and that's all?" Jack stuffed his pistol back into its holster, disbelief evident on his face.

"No. I want a journal and a pen. Don't resize my gift, Captain." Mara said with a small smile. "Is it too much?"

"No. Not at all." Jack scratched at his beard and throat, pondering the request. "I can get that for you." He motioned to Anamaria, who waited just behind Mara, for her to continue taking the girl to get food. "Go on ahead before the men get lunch. I doubt Miss McArthur will want to eat with them." He turned on his heel and swaggered into the Captain's cabin; the soft patter of Mara's footsteps on the stairs faded as the door shut behind him. He went to his desk and opened a drawer revealing a collection of hand-sewn books and quill pens. He picked out a book and pen from the identical collection and set it onto the desktop next to his own. Sighing, he sat down on the chair and flipped open his journal. Best to finish my earlier entry, he thought to himself. His hand fumbled for his pen while he began to re-read what he'd written earlier. His gaze fell on a section he knew he had not written himself and panic began to set in as the writer talked about his previous entries (obviously having read much of his journal). Anger took over as he read the final few sentences and the signature. He threw down his pen on the table and tossed the journal in a drawer. Leaning back in his chair, his hands found the secret container of rum tied underneath. "Bloody, blasted, overcurious girl. Not even five minutes! I can't leave her alone in my room for five minutes without her snooping around my things and prying into my private thoughts." He took a large swig, emptying the rum bottle and stood, kicking his chair into the corner. His straightened and corrected the position of his sword belt on his hips and began to pace the room. "How could I have let this happen?" Jack ended his pacing at the window of the room, staring out at the sea. Now someone knew his secrets and that someone was not a person he trusted to keep them secret. He grimaced. He had to keep her from telling the men what she'd read. It was clear by her writing that she thought he ought to tell the world his every feeling—something he did not want to do—and he did not doubt that with her personality she wouldn't even pause before telling someone his feelings—even without his permission.

She had to be silenced in whatever way possible. His pride depended on it.


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Take that as a hint, folks, and throw me a bone here! Reviews convince me I should update. xD

-Alori