Author's Notes: Hello, hello! Jolly good day, yes? Well, I hope it is for some of you, because I've been dealing with rain, rain, rain, and more fucking rain, and so help me God, if I have to take out an Alaskan Malamute to piss in said rain one more time and shake herself not outside on the balcony (no, no, no never in the logical place where I purposefully linger) but inside right onto the couch I was just about to plop my grumpy ass down on.

I love her, really. Especially her fluffiness. But Jesus Christ, she holds more water than a cactus.

*coughs* *straightens invisible tie* *smooths invisible tie*

Now, where were we?

Oh, yes. Jack.

Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT. Or Disney. Or anything of value. Except my dog.


Chapter 15

The sun had just reached its zenith on the fourth day of their journey when Jack spotted land.

And a ship.

He raised his spyglass to read the name painted across the stern. "Bugger," he muttered. He glanced at Killian. "We're about to have company, mate."

Killian cursed, took the spyglass from Jack's hand—pointedly ignoring Jack's childish frown—and had a look for himself. "Damn."

"What?"

Beside him, Emma snatched the spyglass from his grasp so that she could look. Killian let it go with a small glance that was equally as amused as it was exasperated, while Jack just watched his spyglass continue to change hands (that were decidedly not his own) with a pout. "You do realize that's mine, don't you?" he complained.

Emma ignored him. She studied the ship anchored just off the beach of the island they were fast approaching. It was a beautiful ship. Big and grand. Definitely built for war. She counted sixty cannons. The name on the stern read HMS Dauntless.

She collapsed the spyglass and handed it back to Jack. "Who's the Captain?" she asked.

"A rather persistent Commodore Norrington," Jack said. "Got a bit of a history, him and me."

"I remember him," Killian said. "He was a Captain in my day." He glanced at Emma with a grin. "Hated pirates."

"And I'm afraid I didn't much sway him to think otherwise," Jack added.

Killian scoffed. "Why am I not surprised?" He stared at the ship. "Is he going to be a problem?"

"Define problem," Jack said quickly. "The good Commodore is rather like a dog with a bone. I suggest that we make use of that, and perhaps, well . . . allow him to chase his tail."

"A distraction."

"Aye."

"And what do you suggest?"

Jack straightened smugly. "Me."


Emma did not like their plan.

She wouldn't even call it a plan. It was just an idea. A stupid idea. And she could tell by the way Killian's lips grew thinner and thinner as they neared the shore that he was no more a fan of the "plan" than she was.

It relied a bit too much on trusting Jack Sparrow.

And so when they reached the shore and secured the boats, while Killian began giving orders to scour the island for the heart, she took Vincent aside. "I need your help," she said, keeping her voice low, barely allowing her lips to move, too conscious of the people around them to dare draw too much attention.

Vincent kept his eyes on Killian as he said, "What would you ask of me?"

"I don't trust Jack not to take the heart for himself," she said. "He's the one with the compass. He's the one that will find it." She chanced a glance at him. "When he makes a break for it, follow him."

"Aye, mum."

Emma ignored the little quirk to his lips as he said it, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes before she moved away from him. The men soon scattered around her, heading further inland to search for the heart, while Killian and Jack remained behind. As a group they started down the beach toward where the Dauntless was anchored.

Three shadows stood waiting for them, and it felt strangely surreal to Emma as she walked side by side with two pirate captains to parlay with a freaking Commodore on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere. The sword strapped to her waist brushed against her leg as she walked. Her hair was tied back with a piece of leather but with each sharp breeze from the waves, more strands came loose until she might as well have left her hair down.

But it felt oddly right. The wind on her face, her hair whipping back and forth, even the cutlass against her leg. Maybe it was simply the feeling that came with a purpose, a mission. Still, when she caught Killian's gaze, she smiled a little, and he smirked back faintly.

It was a little dramatic as they stopped around fifteen feet shy of Norrington and his party. The open space of white sand between them felt like a poor flag declaring a cease fire. Emma easily picked out Norrington from the other two men. He was dressed in a Naval uniform, not unlike the one that she'd found one night in Killian's wardrobe, yet whereas Killian's uniform was still impeccably clean and neat, Norrington's was worse for wear. Its edges were frayed. His white pants stained with grime. His dark hair was in a messy ponytail, and his beard was sloppily kept. Despite his straight posture, the man looked haggard.

On either side of him were two other men. One Emma did not know, although he wore a uniform similar to Norrington's. The other man, however, Emma could take a guess. She just couldn't quite believe it.

"Should have known you'd be here, Barbosa," Jack said lightly, though he regarded his former first mate with an unmistakably dark look. "You always did fancy power more than gold."

"Still can't move on from the past, can you, Jack?"

Barbosa wasn't at all like his Disney adaptation. Whereas in the movie, he was rough and ugly, obviously a villain, in the Enchanted Forest he was undeniably handsome. His dirty blonde hair hung to his shoulders in wet curls from sea spray. He was clean-shaven as well, without a scraggly beard. There was almost a cherubic look to him in his rounded cheeks and pink lips.

Emma couldn't picture him as a man who would maroon his Captain on a deserted island with a pistol and a single shot.

The only thing Disney had gotten right about Hector Barbosa was, ironically enough, his peg leg.

Emma was inordinately pleased by that fact.

"Got a long memory, me," Jack said before glancing at Norrington. "For example, the last time I saw you, dear Commodore, you swore to hunt down every pirate on the seven seas. Yet here you are with the worst of the lot."

"All men must make sacrifices if they are to achieve their goals," Norrington responded stiffly. "The world may have given up on finding her, but I have not. Where is she, Sparrow?"

"Captain," Jack corrected. "Honestly, mate. How many times?"

"She?" Killian interrupted. "Who?"

"Elizabeth Swann."

"Swann?"

Killian looked at Emma, but she only shrugged. "Don't look at me," she said. "This wasn't in the movie."

"The what?" Jack questioned.

She shook her head. "Never mind. It's not important." Looking from Norrington to Barbosa, she said, "So, here's the deal. All of us want the heart. Only one of us is going to get it."

"Aye, lass," Barbosa agreed before reaching into the pocket of his coat and withdrawing a key. It was heavy and ornate, black as coal, and swung from a thin leather strap. "But how do ye plan on openin' it?"

Killian immediately drew his sword. "I could always cut off your hand," he offered lightly, his eyes darting down to Barbosa's wooden leg. "Even things up a bit."

Barbosa drew his sword, causing Emma to draw hers, all while Norrington capitalized on the momentary distraction and leveled the point of his blade under Jack's chin. Then Jack's sword was out, and everyone was pointing something sharp at someone.

"I'm sure there's a way we can all talk this out," Jack began, but Norrington interrupted.

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"Not here, if that's what you're hoping. Though, honestly, she did leave you, mate. Ever think she might not actually want you chasing after her like some lovesick pup?"

Everyone moved at once. Norrington lunged at Jack with a shout, Killian attacked Barbosa in the same second, and so Emma and Norrington's lieutenant were left staring each other for one long moment before their blades clashed out of necessity and a strange sensation of not wanting to be left out.

Fighting in the sand was not something that Emma would ever recommend. She would much rather fight to keep her balance on a lolling ship than shifting sand. However, much to her surprise, she wasn't the first to fall. Killian landed on his back with a curse, sand from Barbosa's boot dusting his vest, before he rolled to the side just as a sword struck the sand where his head had just been.

Then Barbosa was dashing into the trees, black key still in his hand, and Killian was right on his heels, shouting over his shoulder, "Get the compass!"

Emma growled, and Jack, still dueling with Norrington, looked over, affronted. "Oi!" he complained.

Facing the lieutenant once again, she sighed and said, "Sorry about this," before kicking up a wave of sand into his face. He had no control over his reaction, his hand coming up to his face, and so Emma took two quick steps forward, and whacked him in the temple with the hilt of her sword.

Then she turned her sword on Jack. It felt wrong, but she ignored it. She needed the compass to find the heart. She could do this. Killian could get the key, and she could get the compass. They did make a great team, after all.

So she pressed her attack on Jack, though it seemed to make little difference to the captain, who fended off her attack along with Norrington's with an ease that reminded her of Killian. Frustrated, she lunged, making a wide swipe that Jack deftly parried, hitting her blade just so and knocking it from her hand. Overbalanced, she fell forward.

"Sorry, love," he apologized. "But I need that heart."

"So do I!"

Jack spun around Norrington and threw back his elbow, hitting the man in the face and sending him to the ground in a daze. Emma struggled to get to her sword, yet the moment she grabbed the hilt, Jack stepped onto the blade. "I am truly sorry, love," he said. "Believe it or not. But your young Killian will do anything to keep you safe, including betraying me, and I can't risk that."

Emma growled and made a grab for the compass swinging from his belt, but he agilely leapt out of reach and then charged into the jungle. There was a second where she and Norrington, who had regained his wits, simply stared at each other, debating whether to fight each other or run after everyone else. They moved at the same time, and it felt to Emma like a schoolyard sprinting contest as they followed Jack.


Killian had chased Barbosa—who was astonishingly fast even with a wooden leg—to an old mill that was a crumbling mass of charcoal-colored stone and rotted wood. He caught the treacherous first mate on the second flight of stairs, the blade of his sword tearing into the man's coat. "Missed," Barbosa taunted.

"It's early yet," Killian retorted.

They fought with the kind of speed and blunt grace that came with mastery over a blade, though Killian steadily advanced, forcing Barbosa higher up the stairs. Close quarters were to his advantage. He had two good feet to Barbosa's one.

Realizing he needed to even the odds, Barbosa began to talk. "Who's the woman?" he goaded. "Last I heard of Killian Jones, he was either between the thighs of a whore or stone drunk. She must be talented if ye were willin' to bring her aboard."

Killian gritted his teeth. "Watch it, mate."

The clash of their blades became harsher, the sound of steel slashing against steel sharper. They made it to the top level, where a great black bell hung suspended above them. Killian attacked relentlessly, using his anger as fuel, yet for every step in their dance that Barbosa missed, he leveled the playing field with his words.

"She's lovely, your whore. Good form."

Killian lunged too sharply and received a slender cut to the arm that he didn't feel.

Barbosa laughed. "Oh, you like her, don't ya? Don't worry, Captain. I'll keep her warm after yer gone."

Finally, Barbosa fell into Killian's trap. He left his side open as he swung out in a rage, accepted the burn as the blade sliced over his ribs, yet when Barbosa expected him to move away from the pain, he leaned into it, startling the man, and giving Killian the opportunity yank him forward and sink his blade into Barbosa's gut.

The man jumped in surprise, his mouth hanging open in shock, only to smile in the next second, unfazed. Killian stared in confusion. "What the bloody hell are you?"

Barbosa laughed. "Cursed," he spit. He shoved Killian back, sending him tumbling down the stairs and into the wall, but Killian only smiled through his bloody mouth and held up the key that he'd lifted from Barbosa when he'd stabbed him.

"Tough luck, mate," he said, before leaping off the stairs and grasping one of the ropes used to ring the bell. Like a fireman, he slid down the rope until he was at the bottom of the tower, and with a laugh, left Barbosa to shout his rage into the sky.


Jack Sparrow was no easy man to follow, but Vincent managed.

He had watched the confrontation on the beach anxiously, more out of worry for Emma than his captain—Killian Jones could well take care of himself—but he'd found himself pitching forward to help when it was actually Killian who was the first to hit the sand. His captain was back on his feet soon enough, chasing after Barbosa, charging through the brush not five yards away from where Vincent had chosen to crouch.

He let him go. Emma's orders were to follow Sparrow.

And when the man himself ran past him not a few minutes later that was exactly what Vincent did. It was hard work. Vincent had never been much of a runner. A bout of sickness when he'd been young had given him what he liked to call weak bones, and despite the arduous life aboard a ship, he'd always found himself more comfortable at sea than on land. Land was rough and hard and jarred his joints as he chased after Sparrow.

But he kept at it, and Sparrow was too focused on his compass to notice that he had a tagalong. They slowed the further into the jungle that they went, the sounds of the fighting fading in the distance, and then it took every ounce of Vincent's patience not to be seen or heard. Sparrow was a clever man, and at times Vincent was sure that he had been noticed when the Captain of the Black Pearl would suddenly turn and look over his shoulder.

Yet when it continued to happen, Vincent wondered if the man was simply paranoid.

They walked only a little further into the jungle before Jack once again came to a halt, though he did not look over his shoulder. He fell to his knees and began to dig with his hands. It was slow going, despite the soil being more sand than dirt, but Vincent did not make his move. Not yet.

He heard the heart before he saw it.

Thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . . like the steady crash of waves against a ship. Vincent peered around the trunk of the tree he had chosen to hide behind, only to see overturned soil. No Sparrow.

It was also when he felt the cool metal of a pistol against his neck. His shoulders tensed. His hands automatically came up, placating. "Bugger," he muttered.

"Too right," Jack agreed. "I bet it was Emma who told you to follow me. Smart lass, that one. Damn good pirate."

"Aye."

"I'm not going to kill you, lad. Messy business, killing."

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Vincent said. "I can't allow you to leave with that heart." Squaring away what courage he had, Vincent slowly turned around so that he was staring down the long barrel of Jack's pistol. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the small black chest tucked under the pirate's arm.

The beating was even louder now.

Thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . .

Then again, perhaps it was his own heart.

"Well, lad," Jack said. "I'm afraid we are at an impasse." He cocked the pistol. "This shot was not meant for you," he said, sounding angry and frustrated at the thought of wasting it. "Let me go, boy."

Slowly, he began to step away, but before Vincent could draw his sword, Commodore Norrington burst into the little clearing. "There you are, Sparrow," he said. "I see you saved me the trouble of finding the heart."

Jack took a calculated step back so that he had one eye on Vincent and the other on Norrington. "And just why do you want this here heart, Commodore? Makes for a strange love token."

"It's my redemption," Norrington said. "With the heart in the Navy's possession, I'll not only regain my title, but have the full powers of Davy Jones himself. There will be no place where I cannot find her."

"I think you've crossed that shaky bridge between love and obsession, Commodore. She didn't love you, mate."

"She's my fiancée!"

"Was," Jack corrected. "Was your fiancée. She left you."

"You can't even say her name," Norrington hissed. "Say her name, Sparrow!"

"Elizabeth. Though, between you and me, she doesn't mind 'Lizzie' if she's in a good mood, if you know what I mean."

Norrington charged with a yell, and Jack had no choice but to either drop the chest or his pistol in order to draw his sword. Vincent made that decision for him. He dove forward, ducking under the swipe of Norrington's blade, and snatched the chest from under Jack's arm. He ran the way that he'd come, the sound of fighting growing strangely more fierce as he neared the beach.

It made sense once he stumbled onto the sand.

The crews of the Dauntless and the Jolly Roger were locked in battle, and though only a few looked up when he charged through the brush, it was enough for them to see the chest under his arm. Vincent spun on his heel and ran back the way he'd come, shouts of "He's got the chest!" and "After him!" echoing behind him.

Bloody hell, Emma was going to get a piece of his mind if he survived this.


Emma found Killian first, and she used that term loosely.

Collided with was far more appropriate.

They fell to the ground in a heap, with Killian taking the brunt of the impact with the ground and then once more with her as she landed on top of him. Emma splayed her hands on his chest, tossing her hair out of her eyes as she took in the blood in his beard from what looked like a split lip. "Bloody hell, Swan," he groaned as one hand left her back to cover his side. He pulled his hand away, glanced at the blood, and sighed. "There's a time and a place, darling."

Emma scoffed but didn't immediately move. She did, however, look at his bloody hand and then to his side. "You know, you keep telling me you're this expert swordsman," she said. "I'm starting to think you're overstating things."

"That was strategy," Killian insisted as his eyes looked her over. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Did you get the compass?"

"I'm working on it."

"Bloody hell, Swan. I gave you one task."

"Hey!" she snapped. "It's a little hectic around here. Did you get the key?"

Killian grinned and held up between them. "This key?"

Emma grinned. "Good job, babe."

Killian's brows rose. "Babe?" he repeated. "Why, Swan, have I finally earned a pet name? I'm honored."

She blushed. She had not meant to say that. "Shut up. You're an idiot."

"I'll have you know—"

"Not to interrupt or be indelicate," Vincent's heaving voice startled them, causing Emma to nearly roll off of Killian in surprise, "but is this really the time to flirt?"

Killian's eyes landed on the black chest under Vincent's arm. "You've got it?"

"Aye, Captain. Now, can we go?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Quickly."

Just as he spoke, the sound of thundering feet grew louder until a few men burst through the brush. "Yep," Emma agreed quickly, scrambling to her feet. "Good idea."

"Right behind you, love," Killian said before the three of them were sprinting from the mob. Despite his words, Killian quickly took the lead, slowly working his way diagonally until they were back on the beach, perhaps a few hundred yards down from where they had left their boats.

Killian shouted at the mob behind him. "My men, back to the boats!" he barked.

They were halfway to the boats when Jack stumbled onto the beach, casting a glance over his shoulder, almost in relief, before his senses caught up to him and he got a look at the horde of men charging toward him. "Bloody hell," he mumbled before he started to run, too.

Killian caught up to him first. "I should run you through, Sparrow!" he threatened.

"Yes, well, it happens," Jack parried. "What do you say we forget about it and be friends again?"

"We weren't ever friends!"

"Allies, then! I'm a good ally."

"Why should I trust you?"

Jack pointed at the madness over his shoulder. "Because I trust them less!"

Emma dove toward a boat, shoving it toward the water. "Fine," she said, despite Killian's wide glare. "We don't have time to argue!" she insisted.

Jack grinned and looked at Killian. "See, her? Her I like."


Well, that was an action-packed chapter. Didn't realize it until just now doing some last minute editing. Goodness, the fight scenes! A good flirt. Got to have the flirting.

Next chapter we descend into the Locker! Whoop!

Also next time in Run, Baby Run . . . "You. Fucking hell, that's all I want. I just want you, Emma. Damn the consequences. How many times are you going to make me bloody say it?" - Killian

So that's more than one line, but I really wanted to spoil that one because I love it.

See you Friday!

-AC