Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. Simple as that.

AN: Alright, concerning one reviewer I will ask, should I continue doing these as short oneshots, or should I make this into a longer story? Its up to you! Let me know what you think. Thanks.

Jack's Daughter-Hard Times

He was bigger, meaner and stronger then me, but he was the one with blood pouring down his chin. Not me.

I rocked on the balls of my feet, my fists resting easily at my sides. There was blood spattering my knuckles but it was all his. My only injuries so far were stinging fingers and a split lip that was entirely my own fault.

There was a crowd around us, cheering and betting. Money passed hands eagerly as people shuffled as close as they dared. A few had specks of red coating their clothes. Whether it was from this fight, or an earlier one, it was hard to tell. After all this was Tortuga.

Distractedly I blew a loose strand of hair from my face and goaded the man with a mocking smile. "What's the matter? Can't take a girl?"

The man growled, revealing yellowing and crooked teeth. "Whore!" he screamed and lunged. He was completely uncoordinated and drunk. The fetid smell of rum washed out of his mouth as he breathed. But he had made the fatal mistake of mocking me because I was Jack's daughter.

Easily I moved to the side, and tripped him. He landed face first into the muck that was left over the rainstorm the night before. My breathing was calm as I pressed my foot into his neck, forcing his face into the mud. He gurgled unable to breathe. I was ready to kill him.

"That's enough!"

Strong arms wrapped under my armpits and hauled me back. Screaming I flailed, though knowing the man who held me was much stronger. "Whore son!" I screamed at my opponent. His followers were trying to help him up.

"Dannica!"

I twisted my head around slightly to find that the owner of the establishment behind me was my captor. Instantly I relaxed, subdued, and he let me go. "What?" I muttered.

"You know what," he growled, grabbing the back of my shirt and dragging me off. "You know what your Mother would say?"

Oh yes, I knew what Momma would say. Not that it would do any good. I shrugged as best I could. I clasped my hands on top of my head, keeping my hat in place. I was not surprised that I had managed to keep a hold of it during the fight. It had been brief and easy.

"Don't give me that look Dannica," the man growled. He kicked the door open of his business. "Your Father…"

"Jack's dead!" I spat. I began writhing in his strong grasp. "So what he said doesn't matter anymore!"

"Dannica," the man released me and I stumbled. "You can't let it keep on bottling up inside you. You're too young to be found dead on the streets because of one lucky shot."

I crossed my arms and kicked a barstool. I huffed and glared out from under the brim of my hat. "I'm ten," I snapped. "Old enough."

"You act like your fifteen. Let loose Dannica."

"No," I snarled. "This is who I am! Get used to it. Momma broke her ankle, I'm the only one left. Jack wouldn't have left us if he had a choice, now there's none. There's nothing else I can do."

"Well you don't have to fight. You know that by now."

I knew, oh I did. I knew fighting wouldn't change anything of how Momma and I were treated, but it made me feel good. Like I was accomplishing something. It let the anger inside me escape.

I turned around to leave but the Innkeeper reached out and stopped me. "Don't do this Dannica. You're a child yet."

"I stopped being a child when I was seven." I pushed his arm away, straightening. "I stopped being a child the day I learned Jack died and the Pearl his beloved Pearl was cursed."

The Innkeeper stepped back and watched me with quiet eyes. "Dannica," it was a soft plea that I ignored.

Rubbing my knuckles against my grimy pants in an effort to wipe off some blood, I left the Inn and stepped out into Tortuga sunlight. I hated it. Ducking my head down, I wove my through hung-over crowds and gossiping women. Many recognized me and talked behind their hands, as if I would not notice. I glared at them all.

Inside I fumed at the Innkeeper's words. I hated him for knowing Jack and I hated Jack for making him promise to watch me. I clenched my hands back into the familiar feeling of fists. I knew what I was inside. Angry, resentful, dead. I wasn't truly mad at Jack I just missed him. I still couldn't believe he was dead.

"Eh Dannica!"

I turned my head to see a whore leaning from a balcony window, a gleam on her lips. Choosing to ignore her, I ducked my head and continued on my way. I knew that had I hesitated she would have mocked me and I would have grown angrier.

A few minutes later I found myself at the docks, staring angrily at the sea. I cursed it. I hated it. The Caribbean Sea was the root of all my problems. Everything wrong had come from it. I hated it more then I could have hated Tortuga.

The sunlight sparkled off the innocent blue and sent blinding spots into my eyes. I refused to look away, staring resolutely ahead of me. The familiar cursing of pirates as they went about their business and the creaking of ships as they rocked at their berths filled my ears. I found tears in my eyes and angrily bit my lip. So what if I was acting older then I should? It was my choice.

Sighing, I turned my back to the sea and headed back out to solid ground. Momma would be worried about me. She had sent me to town on an errand that I could not remember, but I knew I should have been back ages ago.

As I walked, I absently took my hat off my head and stared at it, feeling the shape in my hands. It was worn and battered; I had had it since I was five. It was my most treasured gift from Jack. It had been his hat and for a short time he had taken it back, but it was mine now. Angry at my thoughts, I rammed it back on my head and continued, kicking dirt and empty bottles out of my way.

I hated my life. I hated it every time I breathed. Momma didn't understand me. She was respectful, but she wanted something from me that I couldn't give. I had pirate's blood in me; it called in a voice that couldn't be ignored. I respected her, she was the only person I had left and I would listen to her, to an extent but no more. She had pushed away the news of Jack's death like it had never happened. She was never there to coax me when I grew upset.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I hurried the last few yards that separated me from home. Momma was in the yard, feeding the chickens. She limped as she did, a wobbling gait that caused a wince to pass across her face. I took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm back."

Her head snapped up and her gaze fastened on me. "You were in a fight," she accused, dropping the chicken feed. She hobbled toward me and grabbed my hands. "How much is yours?"

"None," I answered, glancing away. I tried to tug my hands away but she refused to give them back to me. "Momma, I'm fine."

"No you not!" she cried. "I taught you better then this! Fighting in the dirt like a coward?"

I winced and looked up into her eyes. She was still taller then me. "Momma," I tugged my hands angrily. "Don't worry about me."

"You're my daughter! I have to," she snapped back as I brushed past her into the house.

I shrugged my shoulders and closed the door. Slamming it, would have been a waste of energy. I could hear her shoo the chickens in the yard, and safe I pressed my back against the door and holding my hands to my face.

I missed Jack and I wished like so many times before, that he was home with me.