A/N: And thus, we enter the plotline that starts in 'Jack Sparrow: The Coming Storm'! As always, thank you for the comments! They're greatly appreciated and highly motivating ❤️


I was right about us sailing into rain, but it had been Tremaine who had been right about us sailing into a storm. It was strange one, though—something wasn't right about this storm. The air felt heavier than normal and the waves didn't seem as angry as they should have been. What was even stranger was that it felt like we were just on the very cusp of the storm—like we weren't sailing further into it, nor was it blowing away from us.

It just felt…weird and it made the tips of my fingers tingle.

If there was one good thing about this storm, it was that the wind was blowing us in the direction we needed to be sailing. We got the sails arranged in such a fashion that we were kept at a steady nine knots and, for nearly two whole days we sailed at this speed. This was a bit dangerous on our part, as the choppy seas made it difficult to spot any upcoming reefs or sandbars. Those of us high up in the rigging made sure to keep our sharpest eyes out, though, and we were able to avoid any trouble.

On the morning of the third day, things began to change; the storm was finally getting worse and yet, it was only the parts of the storm above the water that got worse. While the sea was still quite choppy, the waves weren't lifting us high into the air, nor were they threatening to capsize us as they should have been.

By midday, Tortuga was in sight and, a few hours after that, the ship had dropped anchor at the dock; the storm has almost entirely fizzled out and it was only rain that poured from the sky now. Exhausted and soaking wet thanks to our efforts up in the rigging, we all just wanted to get on land and get inside a tavern for some warm food and strong drink among other things. But there was still work that needed done, namely making sure the sails were furled tightly and making sure the mooring lines were secured around the pilings of the dock.

Despite the sails being wrapped up tight, I could barely make out what was happening down on the deck thanks to the sheer amount of rain rolling down my face my face. At one point when I glanced down, however, I spotted a familiar speck sneaking his way off the ship.

'That's pretty bold of him, sneaking off when everyone's on deck like that,' I thought. 'But I suppose it's actually the perfect time to do such; everyone's busy or getting blinded by the rain, after all.'

Once all the chores were finished, we were finally allowed to either go ashore or rest below decks. Most of the crew chose to go ashore, of course, though I chose to stay below deck for a little while. Since I wasn't an actual member of the crew, I really didn't need to stay, but I wanted to make sure the hammock I had been using got put away and that my seabag was closed as tight as possible.

"I'm shocked yer not on land yet, lad." I looked up from rolling the hammock into a cloth log, surprised to see Tremaine leaning against one of the wooden supports. Like me, she was soaking wet from having been out on the deck. "I would have expected ye t' have been the first one off."

"I wanted to make sure I got this put away," I said, giving the half-rolled hammock a small shake.

She chuckled, her brow rising. "I think yer the only person on this ship who actually puts their 'ammock away." Waiting until I was finished with my task, she left her spot against the pillar and came over to me. "Yer a good worker, lad. If ever yer lookin' for work in the future an' I'm around, come find me. I'll hire ye on in a heartbeat."

Then, reaching inside her jacket, she produced a small bottle—it looked to be half the size of the usual sized rum bottle. "An' here's the rum owed t' ye for bein' right 'bout this weather. I know it don't look like much, but it's undiluted rum, so drink it sparingly, lad."

My brow rose as I took it from her; I could see that there was barely a gap between the top of the rum and the bottom of the cork. It was most definitely more than a double ration's worth of the stuff. Instead of pointing that out, however, I merely said, "Thank you, captain."

"Keep my offer in mind," she told me, a small grin on her lips. "I'll be here another two days—ye know, just in case ye get sick o' yer family right quick." Turning, she left the area, heading back up the stairs.

'Well, that's nice,' I thought, going over to my belongings. After I got the rum safely tucked away in my bag, I slipped my baldric over my head before pulling on my boots. Then, grabbing my bag, I took my leave of the Sunrise.

'Working under pirates isn't much different from working underneath a law-abiding captain.' I carefully made my way down the gangplank, not wanting to slip on the wet wood. 'The crew pecking order is a bit different, but I can definitely get used to it…Though, I suppose not all pirates are as kind as Tremaine. I would imagine a fair few can be quite cruel…'

I was halfway down the dock when I felt someone grab my arm. My hand reached for my sword as I turned, but a sigh of relief left my mouth when I saw that it was just Jack—who was wearing an apologetic, yet still cheeky, grin. Being that he was soaking wet, his clothes clung to his body and he had various bits of hair sticking to parts of his face. He almost reminded me of a sopping wet street dog.

"I was wonderin' when you were going to be coming off o' that ship," he said.

"I had to clean up my area," I replied, beginning to walk again.

"Clean up your area?" he repeated, his brow rising.

"You know—put my hammock away. Make sure I didn't leave anything behind." I shook my head and adjusted my bag. "I'm glad to see you didn't get caught while stowing away, though it was a wee bit risky of you to sneak off the ship in broad daylight like that."

He shrugged, the grin still on his lips. "It's stormin' and everyone was distracted. When the opportune moment comes along, it's best not to waste it." Looking up at me, his brow rose slightly. "So, how was it workin' for Tremaine?"

"Not much different from working under my previous captains. She seemed to like me more than the last two, though, which was a bit nice. She even said I'm welcome to join the crew if ever I'm looking for one." I almost stumbled sideways as Jack nudged me with his elbow.

"Maybe she was tryin' to get you to share her bed for the duration o' the trip an' you were just too dense to notice?" he teased, playfully winking.

I snorted loudly. "I can promise you, she was not trying to get me into her bed." He brought us to a halt at the end of the docks, where he ducked behind a stack of empty crates.

A few seconds later, I heard him starting to swear. "Where did it go?!"

"Where did what go?"

"My seabag!" He came out from behind the stack, a frantic look on his face. "I put it back there so I could go an' wait for you, but now it's gone!" He started turning around and around, looking at the people who were in the immediate area. Then, suddenly, he pointed. "There it is! That bloke's got my bag!"

My eyes followed the line of his arm to find a behemoth of a man in the distance; he had to have been at least seven feet tall and there was no way he weighed less than two-and-a-half hundred pounds. And, sure enough, there was a worn, white seabag draped over his shoulder.

Something about this man felt off, though. And it wasn't just because of his size. My fingers, which hadn't stopped tingling ever since we entered the storm, were tingling even more now. Part of me wanted to go investigate, but the more cautious part of my mind told me to stay away.

"I…think your bag is as good as lost, mate," I told Jack.

"Oh, no it's not! I have things I need in that bag an' I'm not about to let that man walk off with it!" He started to storm forward with every intention of going up to the behemoth and demanding his bag back. And, if I hadn't grabbed the back of his vest, he would have done just that.

"Jack, be reasonable," I told him, my brow raised as I dragged him backwards. "You can't just walk up to a man that size and expect him to give you back your bag. He'd throw you halfway across the island if you did that."

Thought he still wore a bit of a pout, he sighed and nodded. "You're right. A situation like this requires tact and stealth."

"Exactly." I let go of his vest. "We'll follow him, see where he goes, and from there, we'll come up with a plan."

"Then let's get going before we lose him!" He grabbed my wrist and started to tug me forward.

"Lose a guy his size? That's not likely."

We tailed the man through a good portion of the city before we saw him duck into a tavern called the Faithful Bride. The building, like many others in the city, was of Spanish design and looked like it could use a fresh coat of whitewash. It also didn't look to be built terribly well, as a gust of wind made the walls tremble.

Despite this, when we peered through a smoke-and-dirt stained window, we could see that the place was quite full. Almost everyone inside was male (or looked male) and, rather unusually, they were fairly peaceful looking. The behemoth sat nearer to the back of the place; the tankard he drank from looked small compared to his large hand.

"Here's the plan," Jack said, his voice a bit quieter. I could only just hear him over the rain. "We go in, you saunter on up t' the bar an' get a drink—you'll no doubt draw some attention t' yourself since you're so young. While you do that, I sneak around t' the back o' the place, creep my way up behind Mister Eats-His-Veggies, an' steal my bag back. Then I'll scamper on back outside an' you get a good drink o' rum. Savvy?" He smirked, a mischief twinkle in his eye.

"And what happens if you get caught?"

He opened his mouth to speak as if he already had an answer at the ready, but his expression suddenly went from confident to a bit confused then to contemplative. "You'll figure somethin' out, I'm sure," he said after a moment, the smirk coming back to his lips. He clapped me on the arm and started to turn. "Now come on—let's go get my bag back."

With little choice left to me, I followed him towards the entrance of the tavern. Rather than go in first, however, he waited for me to step in before trailing after—more than likely so he could hide behind me. And he had been right: Upon entering the tavern, many of the patrons looked up at me, their brows rising as they watched me head over to the bar. I could hear some of them muttering about how I was too young to be in there, but, for the most part, I ignored them.

A girl popped up from behind the counter; she was about the same age as Jack and had auburn hair. "What'll it be for ye, lad?" she asked.

"Some rum, if you please, love," I replied, giving her a smile.

"A bit young for rum, aren't ye?" she chuckled, her brow rising. As I reached into my vest for my coin purse, she pulled out a tankard and moved to fill it from one of the many large barrels behind her.

A playful pout came to my lips. "I'm nearly twenty; I think that's plenty old enough to drink rum. Especially on a day like tonight, where it could warm my belly and my bones."

She smiled as she turned around, setting the tankard on the counter and sliding it across to me. "Nearly twenty, huh? And ye don't even have a beard yet?"

"Sadly, a smooth jaw runs in the family." I set a shilling down and slid it over to her. "The only person who could grow any hair on their face was my Aunt Matilda." While most of this was a lie—my father had quite the beard, as did my uncle—the bit about my late Aunt Matilda was not. She practically had a full-on mustache.

The girl giggled as she picked up the coin. "I take it she was the envy of yer family, then?"

"Aye, she was. Sadly, she took the secret of how she grew facial hair to her grave." Turning so that my side was resting against the counter, I took a drink of rum while giving the room a cursory look for Jack. The alcohol burned my throat as I swallowed it, but when it hit my stomach, it started to fill me with a pleasant warmth.

Not seeing Jack just yet, I turned to speak with the barmaid again only to find that she had gone out onto the floor to tend to patrons. I shrugged and took another drink—and then I mentally scolded myself. There was no food in my stomach, so I needed to pace myself, lest I get drunk.

Turning a bit more, I once again glanced around the room. This time, I did spot Jack: He was a few feet from the behemoth's chair, crouched low to the ground. I watched as he slowly extended his hand out towards the sack, which was on the floor in front of the chair. My lungs started to burn; I had been unknowingly holding my breath as I watched him.

Just as I inhaled a fresh breath, the behemoth moved. With his tankard still held against his lips, he stood up and turned around. Looking down, he saw Jack, who quickly put on an innocent smile.

'Shit,' I thought, setting my tankard down. Jack's mouth was moving, but I couldn't tell what he was saying.

Evidently, whatever he said hadn't been to the behemoth's taste, as the man let out a howl of anger and swung his tankard at Jack's head. Jack, being much smaller and nimbler, grabbed the sack from under the chair and hopped out of the way in one fluid movement. Because of this, though, the behemoth's tankard slammed into the back of a different pirate's head.

And that's how the barfight started.

In less than a minute, the tavern was a flurry of activity. Pirates were punching, kicking, and biting one another, regardless if they were friends or foes. Some had drawn their swords and were doing their best to hold a duel in the middle of such a crowded area. Others were trying to knock their opponent out with the butt of their pistols. And all of them were blocking my view of Jack.

Unable to see, I crawled up onto the bar in order to get a better vantage point. I made sure to keep a firm hold on my seabag; the last thing I wanted was for it to get stolen, too. As I looked around, I began questioning why in the world I had agreed to this plan. But then I spotted the behemoth, who Jack was scurrying away from as best he could.

'The room is too crowded to get to them,' I thought. My brow then rose, my eyes having spotted a potential pathway. 'I'd have to make my way around towards the back door, but I should be able to reach them before the behemoth kills Jack…'

Hopping down off the bar, I adjusted my bag and started to make my way around the back of the room. There was a flash and a boom that sounded like thunder, but it could very well have been someone firing a pistol off. As the walls of the building shuddered, however, I knew that the weather outside was getting worse which made me frown in confusion.

'That's not right…the storm had died out earlier. How is it picking back up? Unless…'

I glanced over at the behemoth, who looked extremely angry as he snatched up a bottle filled with rum. It was the I noticed the tingling in my fingers had grown more intense. My eyes narrowed.

Sadly, I didn't have time to think about him for much longer. I was pulled from my thoughts when I saw a fist flying for my face. Leaning out of the way, I quickly brought my leg up and kicked the bloke between the legs. He fell to the ground, clutching at his family jewels.

"Hope you weren't planning on using that tonight," I said as I stepped over him.

I squeezed my way past a few more men who, thankfully, were too engaged with one another to notice me. The behemoth was just a few yards from me; a few yards ahead of him was Jack, his back turned to the giant as he looked for an escape route.

"Shit," I muttered.

Not caring anymore, I darted forward, shoving people out of my way with little care. I had been wanting to avoid doing such a thing, lest I become the target of multiple people's wrath. I was even with the behemoth now, but he didn't see me. His focus was on Jack, who he was getting ready to hit with the bottle of rum.

Drawing my sword, I ran forward. As the behemoth brought the bottle down towards Jack's head, I swung upwards with my blade. The sound of breaking glass filled my ears and, a second later, I was showered with broken glass and cheap rum.

He growled in a mixture of anger and frustration. "Out o' my way, lad," he snarled. "You're not my target." Now that I was getting a good look at him, I could see that he had some sort of tattoo across his chest, but what it was, I couldn't tell—I just knew it was done in an angular style I didn't recognize. Looking at it, however, made the entirety of both my hands start to tingle. And his eyes, though they were grey, almost seemed to reflect the storm outside—getting lighter as lightning struck before growing dark again when the thunder rumbled.

'He has to be the reason for this storm,' I thought. Out loud, I said, "No, I'm not. But I am indebted to him, so you'll have to go through me first." Stealing a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see that Jack was being hurriedly dragged away by the barmaid. 'That makes things a bit easier…'

The man roared and charged at me; I simply stepped to the side and stuck my leg out. Unable to stop himself in time, he tripped and went flying forward. He fell headlong into a group of pirates beating the snot out of each other. After hitting the wall, he fell to his knees—what happened after, I couldn't tell, because the group jumped on him. In fact, a good portion of the fighting around me stopped in order to either watch or join in with taking down the behemoth.

Glancing around, I slowly started to make my way back through the crowd. Slowly because I didn't want to draw any attention to myself and because I had no idea where the girl had taken Jack. As hard as I tried, however, I did not go unnoticed.

The shoulder of my vest was grabbed and I was suddenly yanked sideways by a middle-aged man missing half his teeth. "Yer the one who brought that troublemaker in here!" he growled, pointing a broken bottleneck at my face.

"I assure you, he very much brought himself in here," I countered, my eyes glancing between his face and the sharp glass.

The man growled at me and made to thrust the bottle into my face. With a quick flick of my wrist, though, I knocked it out of his hand with the tip of my sword. I then pressed the blade against his throat—not hard enough to cut, but enough that it did hurt. His eyes widened in shock.

"I would let go now if I were you," I warned him, my voice more serious. He swallowed hard and let go of my vest, both hands rising in surrender. "Smart man." Keeping my sword pointed at him, I took a few steps backwards before allowing myself to turn around.

No one purposefully stopped me while I made my way towards the back door. A few blokes fell across my path, but they either rolled out of the way to rejoin the fray or I hopped over them. A sigh of relief would have left my mouth when I slipped out the door, but I only swore as a gust of wind blew rain right into my face.