(Ok, chapter three is up! I just got it done. tell me what you think!)

Chapter 3

Clues to a scoundrel, clues to a friend

Elizabeth sat back on her haunches, too stunned to speak. The chest was gone! But if that wasn't bad enough, the blame could only be pinned on herself! It was her fault, and no one else's! She and she alone had made the decision to leave it behind but now she wished — oh how she wished! — that she had taken it with her to the wharf!

Barbossa's voice drifted over her shoulder, breaking her stupor. "What's 'a matter, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth choked on the words. They just wouldn't come out right! "It's… It's…"

"Come on, girl! Spit it out!"

"No!" she shouted, springing forward and thrusting the leaves hiding the secret hole carelessly aside. "It's still there! It has to be!" Long twigs pulled at her hair and snagged the fine clothing. She ignored it and forced herself farther in, but beyond the first bushes was cast in shadow and her eyes met only darkness.

Strong hands grabbed her ankles, dragging her back through the mud and rotting vegetation carpeting the ground. She struggled against it, her mind lost to only one fact: The chest was gone! But the hands gripping her were strengthened from years of pirate living. Barbossa pulled her free of the undergrowth and plopped her down on the ground.

"Elizabeth, girl, pull yourself together! What's gone? The chest?"

Elizabeth looked at the dark hole in front of her as if some ancient monster was about to ooze out of it. The torch, still held in her now vice grip, threw eerie shadows across the opening. Long grasses and weeds stood silhouetted in the orange glow.

When she didn't speak, Barbossa grabbed the torch with a scowl and thrust his way through the undergrowth until he could kneel before the hollow's opening. He peered into the musty gloom, sweeping the torch back and forth so he could view all of the confined space within. All he saw were the smooth, wood-enforced dirt walls and a scuffed soil floor. On the floor, tossed carelessly in one corner, there was what looked to be the tattered remnants of what once had been a red-colored head scarf — but there was no chest. The small space was undoubtedly empty.

Barbossa reached in and grabbed the dirty red rag before withdrawing his head and the torch. He turned to face Elizabeth who sat staring unseeingly at her hands. Barbossa jabbed the torch into the ground and tossed the rag into her lap with a sneer.

"There! What d'ya make o' that, I wonder?"

Elizabeth fingered the scarf between forefinger and thumb, running her free hand over a coin that dangled from one of the scarf's ends. She glanced up at the glowering pirate and nodded towards the hole. "You found this in there?"

"Look at it well, Miss. Don't it seem familiar t'you?"

Elizabeth studied the scarf again. It sure did! She'd know that red bandana anywhere, even faded and tattered as it was. And the coin, half melted like hers, spinning slowly from the torn corner as she held it up in the light of the torch… there was only one person who wore it like that.

"Captain Barbossa, I think it's time we looked up our old friend, Jack sparrow, wouldn't you agree." She stared at the piece of scarf, her eyes narrowing to tiny slits, her lips set in a hard line.

"Aye," Barbossa said gravely, "It's about time I got me charts back!"

Captain Jack Sparrow pressed the bottle of sour rum to his lips and took a long draught, slamming the bottle on to the table's pocked surface when he was finished. He wiped the drips away from his lips with the back of his grimy hand and stared into the candle flame flickering dolefully on its wick. Screams and the sounds of a brawl echoed beyond the door shutting him away from the rest of the pirate civilization, but he didn't feel like fighting or running at the moment. The Black Dog was a pirate's haven, but it certainly wasn't the place to come if you wished for a quiet place to think. He'd been glad to pay the extra coin for this private room, where he reclined on the two back legs of his chair, his feet stamped proudly over the dark wood chest.

Life was sure lucky… or else not… He hadn't decided what turn of fate this was. It was by sheer accident that he'd stumbled into that hole, after his compass had led him on a merry chase over and over again to his rum bottle and he'd finally decided to ride his dingy back to the dock where he could get more rum. Rum was good! And perhaps if he had enough of it, his hearts desire would finally be to find that fountain of youth instead of turning him in circles and getting him drunk. He smiled at the thought and took another long draught from the bottle in his hand, enjoying the fiery tingle as the coarse liquor roared down his throat and into his bowels.

But then, of course, a careless pirate is always one to get caught. Just because the East India Trading company had been put in its place, didn't mean there weren't others out to cuff their silver around a pirate's wrists. Jack had forgotten about the others — or rather he didn't, but wasn't thinking about them when he docked. That turned out to be a bad choice. "Never turn your back on your enemies" was a pirate's unspoken, unwritten law. If you were a pirate everyone was your enemy. Jack had broken that law, and his punishment was being chased into the forest by big-headed officers who couldn't wait to get their hands and their nooses around a Pirate's neck. If it hadn't been that his foot slipped into that secreted hollow and dragged him down under the undergrowth, he probably would've been already hanging on a gallows. And then to find this thrice accursed chest right where he fell… what a bonus! 'Course it wasn't Davey Jone's heart that was in it, but Miss Swan should have been more careful in where she put the darned thing.

Ah, Miss Swan! Jack allowed the picture of her face to drift into his mind. He sighed over it and drank another swig of rum. Now, wouldn't she be wanting the chest back? Of course she would! And there was probably something to be gained for the person who brought it back… 'Course, it'd be hard to take anything from her. She was too high spirited, too free… too pretty. She was very pretty…

A hard bang on the wooden door made him jolt and fight to keep his balance on the chair's back legs. He took a couple moments to get himself righted, gulped down another swig of rum and called to the door, "Come in, oo-ever y' are!"

The door was thrust open and in tromped the dirty, tough, sweaty, scared-looking innkeeper with a knife at his throat, followed by a grim faced Elizabeth Swan, followed by a leering Captain Barbossa. Jack leapt to his feet, swiping the chest under the table with the back of his heel and sweeping the rum bottle back and forth in his hand as he cast Elizabeth a crafty smile.

"'ello, love. Come all th'way 'ere t' visit, did ya?"

Elizabeth threw Jack a cold smile and tightened her hold on the innkeeper's shoulder. "Jack." She nodded at him. "What are you doing back at Port Royal. Pirates are against the law here, shunned and hanged."

"Well then I guess we both be wanted men, Pirate King… or a wanted man and a woman as it may be… or two wanted men and a woman, if you count Barbossa there..."

"Hello Jack." Barbossa scowled toward the pirate captain.

"Hello Hector." Jack turned back to Elizabeth, pointing at the knife held in her hand with one finger from around the lip of the rum bottle. "I take it y' didn't come for a friendly chat."

Elizabeth shoved the man away from her and nodded for him to leave. He scrambled around her to the door, glancing fearfully at the knife in her hand and then at the strung coin hanging from around her neck for all to see. Elizabeth closed the door behind him and sheathed the knife in its scabbard, glaring at Jack.

Jack pretended to ignore her glance and reseated himself in the only chair, plopping his feet on the table top. "And now that we're finally alone, y' mind tellin' me how y' found me and why you had your weapon drawn when you so rudely barged in?"

Elizabeth slapped the flat of her hand against the table top. "Don't toy around with me Jack. You know good and well why we've come."

Jack peered at her from over the lip of his bottle and through the shadows cast by the candle flame. "Well, I can guess why you're here, but why's he here." He motioned to Barbossa.

"Now don't tell me ye've forgotten how you 'borrowed' me charts… Jack."

Jack gulped inwardly. Stupid charts! They'd only gotten him into more trouble ever since he pinched them right out from under Barbossa's nose. He had to smile at that. Hector Barbossa hadn't even guessed, and by the time he'd discovered his loss, Jack was long gone.

"Well, waddayaknow." He slid his feet down from atop the table and leaned forward. "Guess y' do have reason t' be here."

Elizabeth yanked the tattered red cloth out from her belt and slapped it down on the table.

"Recognize this, Jack?"

Jack looked at the familiar piece and winced. That was his third slip! Keep this up, Jackey, and you'll soon have that pretty rope necklace you always have nightmares about… He glanced at the piece over his nose, then back up at Elizabeth.

"So…"

Elizabeth grabbed the faded bandana and flung it at him over the table. "Now don't tell me that isn't yours! You know good and well that it is!" She leaned forward, the flat of her hands pressing down on the table, her eyes slitted dangerously. "I want it back!"

"Want what back, love?"

"The chest."

Jack smiled and took another sip of rum, afterwards offering it to Elizabeth who turned her head away. "Alright, love. Y'can 'ave the chest back. Why would I wan' it?"

"With Will's heart in it."

Jack pushed the chest out from under the table with the toe of his boot and, placing his heal on the lid, shoved it over to where she could reach it. "It's in there, a'right. I was on'y returnin' it, anyway… but…" He stood and walked around the table to where Elizabeth stood looking down at the chest, and placed a booted foot on the lid. "I want somefin in return."

Elizabeth looked down at the chest and at the booted foot planted firmly on its lid. The wood hadn't even been scuffed, let alone cracked or shattered. But this was a dangerous game she must play to get it back. She eyed Jack with knowing eyes and was surprised to find that he looked back at her with much less of an intense stare than she expected from those deep, dark eyes.

"What is it you want?"

Jack chuckled softly, the dreadlocks swinging around his face and jingling softly as the coins tied to the ends of his braids clinked together. "I'n't it funny 'ow situations are turned 'round about?" He shifted his weight and leaned one elbow on his knee. "What I wants is ship."

"A ship? Done. I can get you any ship that you want."

"I want the Pearl."

"What?!?" Barbossa roared. He scowled and strode forward. "Ye can't have me ship!"

"I believe its my ship, me ol' mate, and as long as the Pirate King says she's mine, she's mine, savvey?"

"But…" Barbossa stuttered, but Elizabeth stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"You want the pearl. Is that all?"

Jack straightened, the bottle swaying from his hand. "Nope! I want's a crew to sail her with and provisions… oh, and a dock pass so those dratted officers don't start on me again…"

Elizabeth stopped him with a glare. "Fine then. Done. You can have the Peal, a crew, and provisions… on one condition…" She bent forward, gently retrieving the chest from under Jack's boot.

"And what might tha' be?"

She leaned forward. "I go with you."

Jack straightened and swung around. "Done!" he roared, gulping down another swig of rum.

But Barbossa reached forward, grabbing Elizabeth by the collar. "What d'ya think you're doin', givin' that scoundrel my ship! Y'had no right!"

Elizabeth supported the chest on one knee as she reached up and undid Barbossa's fingers from the sleeve of her overcoat. "I believe, Captain Barbossa," she said in a confiding whisper, "that I just did."

Barbossa re-grabbed the coat by the arm and pulled her in close to his face. She turned her nose away from the fowl smell seeping through his lips. "You best watch your back, Mrs. Turner, 'cause you won't want it turned with me around to…"

"Do you want your charts back or not?"

Barbossa's threats stopped. "What?"

"Look, Jack has the charts and you want them. Now he has what he wants, the Pearl, I have what I want, a way to find Will, and if you come along you'll have what you want… the charts of Captain Feng." She pulled away from him and shrugged. "Of course, you don't have to come along…"

A grin began to crack Barbossa's face and he winked knowingly at her. "Ah, I see! Ya be a hard one to bargain with, Miss Swan, but since you put it that way, I find it hard not to except…"

"That's Turner, Captain. Turner."

(If you liked it, please review! I know you can't have a real POTC flick without Jack... and he's one of my fave characters, so I had to put him in! But then, who doesn't like him? If you have any ideas of what should be in the next chapter/s let me know. I got a little stuck with this last chapter, but somehow pulled through... any ideas would be welcomed!)