THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! And to my very first reviewers:

Saphira: Yes, you're my first reviewer- thank you! If only my English teacher thought I had good grammar…

Robyn Stryker: Thank you so much! I'm flattered!

Nycjoc: Thank you! Sorry about spelling her name wrong, I got a lot of that…blushes

Anon: Hehe, thanks!

Sereture: Thanks! Not crap, eh? Wow. And yes, this is a little longer…

Rose Noir le Mort: Thank you! And without all of you, I wouldn't be writing!

Cal: Wow. First off, thanks for welcoming me to the world of Jack and Ana! You gave me some very interesting ideas… sorry about the spelling… and yes this is my first fic. And I will now be referring to her as Ana Maria, thanks! This chapter is dedicated to you, because your review was almost as long as my chapter!

Hehe, thanks everyone! You have officially saved my story. And now, just for you, on with the show!

Disclaimer: sobs into pillow I still don't own it!

Chapter Two

Practicing Patience

I lay huddled on the deck of the Tempest, using the mast to keep the rain off of me. I had time to reflect on what had happened earlier that evening.

I sat huddled, naked in front of him. But I didn't feel afraid or modest in front of him as I had the others. This man wasn't looking at my naked body. He carefully kept his eyes off of anywhere I wouldn't want them. He kept his dark caramel eyes softly resting on my own. He reached into a pocket in his long leather coat and pulled out a modest white blouse, and a pair of breeches, as well as some feminine undergarments. He set them on the cot beside me.

"Go on, lass. Put them on. I won' be able teh sneak ye out of here without ye lookin' like a man." Then he did something totally unexpected.

He turned around.

He was giving me back my modesty, which was so crudely taken from me from those filthy pirates. However, I did expect the kind man to be a pirate, after all: though he showed manners and intelligence, by the way he spoke I assumed he was uneducated.

After a moment of stunned silence, I reached for the clothes. Although the blouse and breeches were made for a man, they fit my slim and less-than-curvy body quite well, and were a welcome relief from that scrap of a dress. I sat for a moment on the cot and watched the pirate, his back still facing me. He was taking off his boots. After he was finished, he went to turn around, but stopped himself.

"Er, lass? May I turn aroun' yet?" he said awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," I mumbled, knowing full well that he knew I was already dressed. He turned to face me and held out the boots.

"All righ' lass? Now, take these boots. They're prob'ly too big for a lass like you, but there all I got… Ye'll need them, thur's cobblestone ou' there." I took the boots and put them on.

"Wait, won't you need them?" I asked timidly. He paused a moment, then said, "Nah. I've got tough feet." I smiled at this, although barely. He caught it though, and broke out into a wide grin. It faded into a look of confusion as he reached in his pocket for something else. He pulled out a bottle of alcohol, (probably rum) and took off his coat. I flinched, after all, because all of the previous men to see me had been drunk. It makes perfect sense to think that when men get drunk, they become violent.

The man noticed (he seemed very aware of everything around him) and shook his head. "I'm no' gonna drink it, lass. Don' worry your pretty little head." He then, with a slight look of remorse, dumped the majority of it over his white blouse, which was very similar to mine, except his had a slit in it from the neck to halfway down his chest. I was baffled. Some of the men I had met in this place were soaked in alcohol, but somehow I don't think they just poured it on himself as this man did. He took of his weathered tri-cornered hat and put it on my head. He then proceeded to dump the rest of the bottle over his head.

He gave me his coat. "Alrigh' so here's the plan, see? I'm gonna go out there and make an ass of meslef, creating a scene. Yer goin' to slip out the front door unnoticed whil' the me and the guards at the front door have a bit of a fight. Then they'll kick me ou' for bein' a lousy drunk… and I'll meet you on the deck of th' Tempest at midnigh'," he slurred- a very convincing drunk. His voice returned to normal as he said, "Don' talk to no one. 'Sept me, o' course. If some ass asks you somthin' just grunt and mumble 'eunuch'. Understood?"

"Yessir," I said earnestly. "Wait," I continued, "what's your name?"

At that he just smiled. "Jack," he said. "Jack Sparrow."

And with that, he turned on his heel, and staggered out of the door, singing a ballad about pirates well out of tune. I crept after him, walking in the most masculine way I could, a fair distance behind. Jack fell down the last few stairs, only to be caught by two whores that went into the business willingly. They smiled and batted their eyelashes at him as he staggered to the bar. I began to creep towards the door, terrified at the two guards standing there. I turned around at the sound of breaking glass, and realized Jack was standing (shakily) on the bar. And he began to sing. Loudly. And out of tune.

"Yo, ho, yo, ho a pirate's life for me!..."

I turned back towards the door again, and resumed creeping, noticing that the guards were watching Jack- and they were not amused. Jack began kicking mugs off the bar as he started to 'dance.' Just as he was about to start flirting with a rather large man, who turns out to be the owner of the hellhole, the guards made their move. And I made mine. As I reached the doors, I turned back to see where Jack was. The guards were only a few feet away, but his eyes locked with mine and he mouthed, "Go!"

So I ran.

I ran until I reached the docks, and looked desperately for the Tempest. As a was wandering confused, a buxom woman a few years older than I sauntered up to me.

"Hey there fella, would ye be wantin' some pleasurable company t'night?" The woman said seductively as she waved her hips in a tight red dress.

I mumbled for a moment, before remembering. "Mumble, mumble, eunuch, mumble."

She looked at me, carefully, and then proceeded to take my arm and lead me into a dark alleyway. "Are you familiar with Jack Sparrow?" she asked in hushed words. I nodded.

"You one of Jack's girls?"

I was floored. I didn't know what to say. Looking back on it, I was probably very stupid. I nodded yet again. "I recognized the hat," she said, taking a slim finger and pushing the brim over my eyes. "So ye be lookin' for the Tempest? Don't worry, I was one of Jack's girl's too. He got me an' Giselle out about five years back. The name's Scarlet. I'll take ye there. Just hold on to me arm and look like I'm takin' ye for the night." I watched her for a moment, then she continued, "Please pass me name on to ol' Jack… Scarlet, remember… I do miss him. Good man, good pirate." And with that, she grabbed my arm and pulled me down the street.

It was awkward playing the part of a drunk and horny pirate, but I guess I was convincing enough. Probably because if anyone looked in my direction, they were looking at Scarlet. That was just fine by me. Eventually she directed me onto a little rundown boat that was the Tempest. Scarlet found some blankets below deck, and sat with me for about an hour- mercifully keeping talk to light things such as the weather, and far from topics like prostitution… or Jack. About two hours before midnight, Scarlet left me. I saw here walking off with another girl, presumably Giselle. I watched them work their street corners for a while, and then tried to get comfortable against the mast. I took off Jack's hat and held it in my hands. I stared at the leather, trying to memorize each scratch and salt stain, realizing there must be a hundred stories created during the course of this hat's travels. I turned it upside down, and to my surprise there was something inside.

A note.

From Jack.

It read:

Dear Lass,

I won't say where you are here, in case this hat falls into another's hands. Just wanted to remind you I'll be there at midnight. I will be alone, so don't be afraid. Just stay quiet and I'll meet you at midnight.

Jack Sparrow

I was amazed. He didn't seem educated, yet he can write with grammar as good as mine. And he could write at all, I noted to myself. I put the note back in the hat and put the leather ornament back on.

I can wait until midnight.

A/N: Thank you again to my dear reviewers! Wow, seven in one day! I feel very privileged in deed. However, I will need more reviews to keep this story going! Suggestions are welcome as well. Any response is welcome! Also, I will probably only be able to update on weekends- the whole school thing makes it tough during the week, but I'll try. Thanks again!

Ta,

Sparrow's Someone