6 months later

I got up well before the sun rose, lit a candle and strummed on my guitar. I had saved up for a month to get it so I played gently, hoping I wouldn't snap a string or accidentally drop it. I had an awful feeling someday I'd be walking around my room and I'd trip over something and land on it.

Now it may not seem likely that I'd trip over something, but I'm pretty clumsy. And my room is very, VERY messy. I still love it though.

There are three doors. One leads to the shop. The other brings you to a hallway with a tiny bathroom, miniscule kitchen, and small gravel yard in the back. The other was for my closet. In my closet I had the strangest assortment of clothes. There was the usual: dresses, corsets, petticoats, etc. But as well I had a bunch of men's clothes. Since women couldn't own their own store I had to dress up in brown trousers, leather boots, and a white button down shirt whenever I paid the rent. I also had to pin my hair up under a bandana and wear a man's hat. Strangely enough, it worked.

Anyways, back to my room. The floor was so covered with my junk you couldn't tell what color it was. Dirty clothes… clean clothes… parchment… pens… a swords… a pistol… a dagger or two… all lay scattered around. And books. Lots and lots of books. I always had to watch my step for fear of hurting myself. The only empty spots were right next to my bed, in front of the closet, and around the chair in front of my desk.

An alarm made me jump and I nearly dropped the guitar. 6:00. It was time to open up.

On the way to unlock the door I grabbed a broom and used it to sweep the dirty steps to the shop.

As I was doing so, I noticed a strange man walking down the road with his back to me. He was dressed in dark pants and worn boots. He had a long loose-sleeved white shirt with a vest on top. His black-brown hair was in dreadlocks and a hat atop a red bandana on his head. And he staggered along like a drunk. There was something oddly familiar about him. I hoped he would turn around so I could get a better look.

As if I had willed him into it, he looked over his shoulder at something. I noticed he had beads in his hair and a thin mustache and a beard in three braids. There was also a small red scar on the right side of his chin. Much like my own, it hadn't faded into a white scar. All of this left me with nothing but a more urgent feeling of familiarity. His name was on the tip of my tongue; I just couldn't find it.

My eyes connected with his and I let out a gasp and dropped my broom. It fell with a clatter. I felt myself blush as I bent down to pick it up. Shit.

I had recognized him. He was the one from my dream, that day I washed up there. In a way, he had saved. I also knew him from somewhere else. When I had lived in Port Royal, I saw him being captured.

Flashback

It was like any normal day of school. I woke up early in the morning to clean up the classroom. At exactly 7:30 there was a knock on the door.

"Get the door for me Kia, will you?" called my mom from upstairs. I opened the door and a crowd of kids came in. They're ages varied from tiny toddlers to ones my age. (I was 20 then). They were all getting in their desks when my mom came downstairs. Her bright blonde hair was in a ponytail and she had a bit of kohl around her blue eyes.

"Good morning class!" she said as soon as everyone was quiet.

"Good morning Mrs. Mathers!" sang the class.

She beamed at us. "So today we'll just start up where we left off yesterday. Does that sound good?" The second she got the words out the corner where the teens were erupted in chatter. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my mystery book I was reading and flipped to the right page.

We spent the entire morning on reading. Normally, I would have been ecstatic that reading was drawn out for so long, but I finished my book within the first hour. With no books in the house that I hadn't read and reread a million times, I decided to go to the library.

My mother was near the front, trying to convince a boy that his "D" was backwards. "No, it's supposed to curve towards the right." Despite her attempts he remained adamant. She shook her head at him, and then noticed I was standing next to him. "Oh! Kia," she said, "what is it?"

"I've finished my book."

"Of course." I grinned.

"So I was wondering if I could stop by the library to get another one."

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Come back soon."

I rushed out the door and down to the docks. If there was one benefit of living in Port Royal, it was the docks. Full of ships and people, it was always a place to go when I just wanted a break from everything.

Although I had told my mom I wanted to get another book, I decided to walk around there.

As I approached the waterfront, I noticed a huge crowd of red coats surrounding the governor's daughter and a strangely dressed man. Edging closer, I noticed he had the air and look of a pirate. One of the red coats shook his hand and revealed something on his wrist, then said something that sounded like "Pirate." After further talk, which I couldn't make head or tales of, one of the men grabbed him and put him in shackles.

Elizabeth, the governor's daughter, stood up for the pirate; I heard something about him being her rescuer and I wondered why a pirate would want to save a governor's daughter. A smile broke out on his face and he threw his chains over her head and pulled them tight. He whispered something in her ear. She grimaced as she put his effects on him. He had a seductive smirk on his face. Pointing his gun at Elizabeth's head, he backed toward the water at the edge of the dock.

"Gentleman, milady, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow." He said.

He turned, grabbed the rope that was hanging there, and kicked down a rusty, metal lever. On the other end of the rope, a cannon fell and crashed into the dock, breaking the wood and taking a couple men with it. The rope with the pirate flew up in the air and the post the rope was attached to begin to swing around in circles. After a couple of rotations the red coats began to fire at him. He then jumped off of the rope onto the other post about 10 feet away.

Miraculously missing everyone's shots, he stood there for a moment to catch his balance. He then shuffled to the side and used his chains to slide down a rope and landed on the pathway leading into the town, right next to where I was hiding. The second I saw him coming I hid behind a barrel that was at the edge of the path for fear of getting shot. He ran down the path and across a tiny bridge, arms flailing, avoiding the guns. Turning around a corner, he ran out of sight, followed closely by numerous red coats.

I sat behind the barrel for a moment while my brain tried to process what had just happened. A pirate, I thought. A pirate is in Port Royal. I looked down the trail at the clouds of dust the red coats had left behind. I hope he gets away. I smiled, but then shook my head at my thoughts. He was a… pirate. An unlawful man who probably did nothing but kill men and seduce women. After shrugging off my musings, I set off to do what I had originally planned to do.

As I passed the blacksmith's shop I saw another crowd of red coats, carrying a body. Looking closer, I realized that they were carrying the pirate. Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. I thought. I then overhead the blacksmith bragging to his friends. He said he managed to catch the pirate, single-handed.

"Hit him over the head, I did." He puffed out his chest arrogantly. He was a short, dirty man with a rough accent and mangy hairdo. "You see, I was taking a… a… walk around the block. A walk, yeah," he said unconvincingly. "Anyways, I saw the, err, commotion in the town and rushed back to my workplace. When I entered through a back door I saw poor Will there." He grunted in the direction of a handsome man sitting on a well. "The pirate had cornered him. I grabbed my… I mean… his… empty rum bottle," His shifty, beady eyes swept the road, looking for anyone that had heard his blunder. I momentarily pretended to be enthralled by a disfigured rock that was lying on the ground. He shook off the mistake. "I smashed it over his head. Reckon that'll leave a mark, eh?" The large group of awful-smelling men surrounding him guffawed loudly and moved away, talking at the top of their voices the whole way to the bar.

End of flashback

I was daydreaming, remembering that day, when I saw a massive, mean-looking man looking at a poster. As soon as he left, I walked over to it. It was a worn piece of paper with the words Wanted: Jack Sparrow on it. Scribbled in before the word Jack was the word Captain. There was a picture of the pirate plastered in the middle and a number with a lot of 0s at the bottom.

I ran after the so-called Captain Jack Sparrow. When I had caught up with him I shouted "Sparrow!" He didn't react but I knew he could hear me.

"Jack Sparrow." I said, starting to get annoyed.

He turned and said to me, "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow." I said tightly.

"Yes?" I rolled my eyes.

"I think you need to be more careful."

"And I think I can take care of meself, luv."

"There's people out here who would gladly turn you in for a spot of cash." I pointed to the wanted sign behind him.

"I know," he said, examining the poster. "This picture is awful. I'm much more handsome in real life." I groaned. He could be so frustrating! And he was so self-centered. Even if he was handsome…

"I just… don't want you to get caught."

"Don't worry, luv. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." With a smug look on his face he walked off swaying to and fro. He was starting to make me feel dizzy. I sat down and my stomach gave a lurch. I clutched it and it swirled around a bit. Figuring I was hungry, I set off towards the bakery.

Jack Sparrow's POV

I lumbered down the road of the tiny port, still feeling slightly drunk from the night before and my head pounding from the hangover. As I was walking, it felt as if someone was watching me. I turned my head to see and discovered that some really was watching me—it wasn't just my imagination.

A very pretty woman with pale-reddish skin wearing a brown, poofy dress that flattered her body but wasn't slutty (unlike the "ladies" in Tortuga) stood on the steps leading to a bookstore. We locked eyes. Hers shined a deep green in the sunlight. There was a glint on mischievousness and even some pain in the way she looked at me. Before I could get a closer look, the broom she held in her hands fell to the ground. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she picked it up. She looked angry. Not at me, I'm sure, but more at herself.

Her eyes had a glazed look to them. Like she could see everything but wasn't really seeing it. She was lost in her mind. I waited a couple minutes to see if she would look up, but she didn't so I kept walking.

After a few minutes I heard a girl (no doubt the one who was staring at me) shout "Sparrow!" I ignored her. After all, I'm not Sparrow. I'm Captain Sparrow.

"Jack Sparrow," she said. I decided to mess with her a little. I spun around and faced her.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?" I asked her. She got the cutest expression on her face. It was a mixture of frustration and annoyance. Up close I saw she had two bright red marks on each cheek and a pair or silver-rimmed glasses.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," she finally said, her teeth clenched.

"Yes?" I tried hard not to smile as she rolled her eyes in a motherly way.

"I think you should be more careful." This was interesting. As a pirate I've found that practically no one looks out for each other. Yet this woman, a complete stranger, didn't want me to get caught. Interesting…

"And I think I can take care of meself, luv."

"There's people out here who gladly turn you in for a spot of cash." She pointed to something behind me. There was a wanted sign with my name at the top, a picture, and a reward on it. Earlier I had written Captain before my name. Stupid people. They could never remember that simple word.

"I know," I told her. "This picture is awful," I commented. "I'm much more handsome in real life." She groaned and I fought back the urge to laugh.

"I just…" she struggled to get the words out, "don't want you to get caught." That was very interesting. I wondered what reason I had ever giver her to care so much.

"Don't worry, luv. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." I walked away, still staggering from the alcohol.

1 hour later

I sat alone at a table in a pub, drinking rum. I still hadn't fully recovered from my hangover, but I didn't care.

A large, beefy man came up to me when I was about halfway done.

"Jack Sparrow?" he asked me.

"Aye."

He brought a wooden plank out of his coat. Before I could react he brought it down on my head and everything went black.