A/N: Thank you so much to TavyBeckettFan, Nytd, LostWitch5, Dizzles the Dizzy, Rokhal, kweenofmagic, and Manwathiel for your gorgeous, wonderful reviews! I couldn't do this without you!

Disclaimer: Well here's the extremely anticlimatic decision we came to: Disney does belong to every single Disney character, animated or no, main part or no. Then we found out that dividing Disney between 2 million characters gives everyone about a sliver. Now we're having s'mores and they're wondering why they got so upset, since it isn't worth it. I don't own POTC!

Chapter 19

The sun rose on an extremely horrified Extremely Formidable. For that very night, Miss Rowe and her loyal man Henry had been attacked by robbers! Henry had taken a bullet to the arm and had barely made it back to the ship. Miss Rowe had had to drive the carriage herself. She had driven up to the dock in dawn's first light, pale and dirty and exhausted.

Now it was noon. Henry was down in the infirmary and Miss Rowe, looking too chipper for those enjoying the drama of the situation, was reading a note that had arrived mid-morning. It was from Brimstone Fortress, written by her father.

He had received news of urgent business in London right after the Formidable had vanished on the horizon, and he had decided to leave Brimstone immediately. His ship, the Blasting Horn, was not headed for England, but the captain had agreed to stop at Kingston. Admiral Rowe had requested that the Formidable wait for him. Then he would rejoin his daughter and they would sail for England together. He would each Kingston in two days.

Miss Rowe sighed and supposed that she would stay on her friend Miss Jenkin's sugarcane plantation - she certainly wouldn't be spending two days on a docked ship. She sent off Harvey, another of her many servants, to rent a small dory as she wanted to sail the small distance north to the plantation instead of riding in a carriage. The night before had "put her quite off traveling by land." Everyone nodded sympathetically. Poor dear.

Late afternoon, a simply-dressed Miss Rowe climbed into the dory Harvey had obediently procured. Her blond maid Jenny followed and sat beside a small chest of necessities. The captain himself cast them off, saying he would send word when the Blasting Horn had blasted into the harbor.

Miss Rowe waved. Jenny put a hand on the chest. Harvey let down the dory's small sail.

Watching sailors leaned on the Formidable's rail and speculated on how damaged Harvey would be when he returned. Women - they're so impetuous. And it's us blokes wot pay the price.

The sun was setting and Jack was trying to get a coconut fiber free of his teeth. He'd always hated coconuts. First you had to practically kill yourself to get them open. This violent process never failed to send half the coconut milk splashing to the ground. This meant that there was just enough milk left to leave you thirsty as you scraped the flesh out of the shell. This flesh took at least two hours to masticate, if you wanted to do it thoroughly, and then it gave you indigestion.

Aye, Jack really hated coconuts.

A small vessel came around the jut of gnarly rock that sheltered his turquoise lagoon. Jack squinted, making out three passengers. When the dory rasped up onto the sand, Jack stood back and let Harvey jump out and pull it up further. He watched as Harvey helped Lady Rowe out, and then Jenny.

Lady Rowe came up to him, holding her plain blue skirts out of the sand. "You're always such a gentleman, Jack."

"Your lad's strong enough himself," Jack told her rightously. "And b'sides, I'm not wanting t'get saltwater on me wrist again."

"'Again'?" She looked him over excitedly. "This means you bathed! Did you, Jack?"

"In the smallest sense of th'word, yes," Jack mumbled. "Couldn't stand the flour in me trousers anymore."

Lady Rowe smiled, and became Lorrie. "I brought new bandages." She whirled and hurried to where Harvey and Jenny were standing with the chest.

Jack grimaced and hurried after her. "No, Lorrie, don't trouble yerself." When she didn't turn he planted himself, hands on hips, and declared, "I'm in no need of coddling!"

Five minutes later, he was sitting in the sand. She sat above him on a massive hulk of driftwood, briskly wrapping his wrist afresh as he sullenly gazed out over the water. The setting sun had turned it to rippling gold.

Much farther down the beach, Harvey and Jenny had made a small fire and were talking over it.

"Any signs of Beckett?" Jack finally asked.

Lorrie looked down on him. Half her face glowed but the rest was in blue shadow. Her dark hair shimmered with subtle red tones drawn out by the sunset. "Not a peep. And believe me, I have so many people listening, I'll know when he sneezes."

Jack nodded, then looked out at the water again. Finding his wrist released, he touched it then let it rest crooked over one bent knee.

"You should have finished him, Jack," Lorrie said quietly.

He quickly looked up at her. "Remind me never t'get on yer bad side."

The corner of her mouth twitched and she met his eyes. "Jack." She reached down, cupping his cheek and jaw in her palm. He leaned slightly into her hand. "He'll come after you. I've met men like him before, but not one has been this fearsome. You'll regret letting him live. You couldn't even hurt Mercer, and he'll carve you up if he has the chance." She drew back, thoughtful. "I could take care of them, perhaps..."

Jack caught her retreating hand. "D'you have an army of assassins?" he raised an eyebrow. "Lorrie, killing's not the only way to finish someone."

"Do I want to know the story behind that phrase?" she asked.

He shrugged once, eyes dark. "He wasn't moving when I left 'im."

Lorrie sighed. "Well, as I said, he's your nemesis. He won't try to kill me."

Jack got to his feet, forcing her to brace herself and half pull him up. Then he sat down heavily beside her. "I suppose y'have the rest of me future planned out."

"Of course," she said crisply. She kicked the chest. "That's for you. It has food, more bandages, and some clothing, in case one of the relics you're wearing simply decides to fall off one day. It also has your hat. Someone found it..."

"Hat! Hat!" Jack leaned down and shoved a folded shirt aside. There, only a little worse for wear, was his glorious tri-cornered brown hat. He took it out and reverently placed it on his head and sighed. "Don't even know when it came off."

Lorrie watched him. "The dory is yours."

"Bought or borrowed?" was the quick response.

"Rented."

"Savvy." The darkness left Jack's face, replaced by an eager radiance as he eyed the small vessel awaiting him. Then he frowned. "What about yerself?"

Lorrie laughed. "I was betting with myself whether you'd ask or not." She shrugged. "It's not a long walk from here to the road, and I have a carriage waiting to take us to my friend's plantation. As you know, I love a stroll in the moonlight." She nudged him with her shoulder.

He grinned, gold teeth and all, and wiggled one eyebrow.

"Hold still," she said, and, frowning with concentration, used a finger to neaten the kohl remaining under his right eye. When she lowered her hand, their faces were mere inches apart, and his liquid brown eyes were gazing meaningfully into hers. Her face softened and she leaned forward-

"Well, that's that," Jack said, and hopped off the driftwood. "Not much daylight left." He marched toward the dory.

Lorrie rolled her eyes, laughed good-naturedly, and marched after him. She stood, arms crossed, waiting as Jack crawled over his new friend, touching her lines and hull and sail.

Finally, when Jack was experimentally raising the sail, she put her hands on her hips. "Jack. Is this the way to repay a woman who saved your life?"

"No," he said frankly, poking at the sail as it swelled with the cool evening breeze. He looked at her with a fierce glint in his eye. "No, this's how I repay the harpy who wouldn't come within a foot of me th'entire time I was stuck in the abysmal hold of a ship."

The barely repressed ire in his voice made her grin. "You're not holding a grudge, are you?"

He poked at the sail again, putting his back to her. "No."

She laughed again. "You don't play the snubbed boy very well, Jack."

"Boy?" He nimbly hopped out of the dory and sauntered to her. "Fine then. I don't see why y'want me to repay you 'cause as a boy, I'd not be able t'dream of touching a glorious, hoity-toity, monstrous woman such as yerself."

"And would that stop you?"

Jack considered, eyes slanted down at her. "No."

As carefully as if he touched an egg shell, he placed a single finger on the hinge of her jaw. Slowly he drew his fingertip along her jaw toward her chin, bringing her face fully up by the time he had her chin between thumb and forefinger.

His shadow half-fell over her face, leaving one of her eyes in the sun. Her eye was blue, with subtle gold highlights.

"Do you know what's amusing, Jack?" she murmured over the shush...shush of the waves.

"What's that, love?" he said vaguely, fathomless eyes flicking over her face and hair.

"This entire time, men have been trying to kill you. And women have been trying to save you."

He met her eyes abruptly. He gave a crooked grin. "I've no idea why."

"I don't, either," she whispered, and then Jack Sparrow kissed Lady Rowe deeply there on the beach, with the wind sighing all around and the sun blazing like a phoenix against the coconut trees and soft sand.

Then he broke the kiss and paused, hand cupping her neck and ear. "While I'm in this generous mood, who was the lass who helped us at Brimstone?"

"Rachel. The cook's daughter." Lorrie blinked up at him, trying to clear her head. "What, Jack?"

He just grinned and pulled her tightly close, kissing her again.

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