Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible or Pirates of The Caribbean. All historical references and characters don't belong to me either.

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Chapter 5: The Coming Storm.

--

As the sun set on the island of Port Middleton, the people of the small town began to settle in and take to their homes after a very exciting day. News of the escaped pirate and his meeting with Governor Possible's daughter and the blacksmiths had reached even the poorest of ears, and the island was soon abuzz with talk, rumors, and questions.

Most of them were directed toward the young Commodore and how he so bravely faced and arrested this evil man. Josh was modest about his enterprise, but answered each question with great enthusiasm. As his first day in this position, it was quite rare for something as exciting as what took place that day to happen. Mankey was quite proud of himself.

James refused to let Kimberly be pestered after her ordeal and they left for home before anything could be asked. Kimberly didn't feel like talking much right now anyway. For once, she agreed with her father, she was very tired, and as soon as she got home, she rushed up to her room and plopped herself onto herself onto her nice, soft bed, in much need of rest after a very long, very thrilling day.

Ron had been trying to ignore the buzz since his neighbors had looked outside their windows and left their shops and homes to get a glimpse of the Royal Navy as they hauled the unconscious pirate from the blacksmith shop earlier that day, supposedly taken down by the shop owner. Many congratulations and compliments had been directed to Master Sensei that evening, who took them with modesty and thankfulness. By evening though, things began to settle, with a few remarks from customers who came in to pick up late minute orders. Ron wasn't enjoying it in the slightest.

The young blacksmith shifted the broom forward as he swept the remaining loose sand out of shop and onto the streets, his mouth puckered out onto a sour frown. He kept replaying the day's events back in his mind, over and over, looking stupid in front of both Governor Possible and Kimberly, the tedious walk home and the news he received from Mankey along the way, the dual that he had so terribly lost, and the credit that was always taken from him for everything he did. He gritted his teeth with each thought.

Bringing the sand to the edge of the sidewalk, he swung the broom back with more strength then required, slapping the orange pile out with anger. A bystander, who was pulling his cart of cabbages along the road, returning home after a day at the market, was suddenly met with a face full of sand. He screamed and grabbed at his eyes.

Ron was caught off guard by the sudden reaction and reemerged from his thoughts, just in time to catch the man as he lifted his head to reveal his gritty, orange face. He glared at Ron darkly, emphasis brought into the expression by the bloodshot veins in his eyes, causing a threatening vibe to run through the boy. Ron gave him a nervous smile and wave, expecting to be beaten up for his mistake, but the cabbage merchant just sneered him down for another second, then continued his trek down the road, grumbling incoherently. Ron watched him vanish into the distance and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You seem troubled, young Stoppable," There was no mistaking Sensei's voice. The elder man exited the shop slowly, his hands folded behind his back. Ron wheeled around on him and glared softly, but soon let his anger drop to a frown, he leaned on the broomstick and breathed out shortly. Sensei understood his reaction and approached the boy.

"It is about today, is it not?" he continued. Ron looked up at him, twisting his mouth around. Finally he was broken down.

"Master, I was the one who fought that pirate, me! Yet everyone hands you the credit…" he sighed and looked back at his master, who showed no signs of confusion, and listen quietly. Ron's gaze wavered down, "… for everything I do. I work hard, and I get nothing! It feels…" Ron momentarily paused.

"Unfair?" Sensei inquired. Ron looked guilty, he had been meaning to avoid saying that as to not sound like a spoiled brat, apparently that hadn't been accomplished. Sensei frowned.

"It was you who did battle with Sparrow, but you fought out of anger and pride, and this is why he managed to defeated you. Had I not intervened, you might have been killed,"

Ron sighed again. "I guess you're right," He quickly fell back and sat himself down, placing his head into his hands and looking down at the dirt road below him. He hated to admit it, but Sensei was right, Jack could've very well shot him today, it was a close encounter Ron didn't want to face again. He probably could've prevented to whole ordeal as well, had he not gotten so angry with the comments about Kimberly, and that, that was causing a whole other mess of problems for him as it was. Like he needed some old sea dog to make it worse! Ron was just very confused about today. He wasn't sure what to think, his brain hurt too much.

Sensei sat down next to his young student and propped his walking stick to the street. He looked to Ron.

"Do not let your pride blind you, Stoppable-san," he spoke, "for arrogance leads to foolishness, and foolish decisions bring forth danger." Ron looked back to Sensei, confused.

"I understand your will to prove yourself to others, but do not let it become your downfall. Even the strongest rooted tree can be overturned by the storm," he explained; gesturing to the clouded, gray sky, which was only growing darker as nightfall approached. Ron followed Sensei's gesture and looked up, a rather understanding frown on his face. He sighed again.

"But did observe your dual with Sparrow," Sensei added a bit more brightly. "Well done, Stoppable-san, you have improved in your skills as a swordsman. I am proud."

Ron smiled, glad of the break in the conversation. "Well, I wouldn't be any good if it hadn't been for you, you taught me everything I know," he grinned a bit more, but was suddenly reminded of his day and how those skills had gotten him nothing but trouble, he lowered his head, frowning again. "I just wish people would realize that,"

"In time," Sensei replied solemnly. "They do not yet know what I have shown you as my apprentice. Not only have you grown in strength, but in spirit as well, but I do not believe you are ready to relinquish all that you are capable of just yet."

Sensei then pushed onto the walking stick, and with a grunt, lifted himself from the roadside. Standing, he gazed down at Ron one last time.

"Though, young Stoppable," he added after a moment, wisdom lurking in his voice that caught Ron's attention yet again, "I have a feeling that you will get your chance to prove yourself a true warrior very soon."

Leaving his apprentice with that final thought, Sensei gave a quick 'goodnight', and turned around, heading back into the blacksmith shop and shutting the door behind him.

Ron watched as he left, then looked back down at the street, his head between his knees, all that he was capable of? He gave him another confused stare as the phrase ran through his head for the twentieth time since he'd heard it uttered. Why couldn't Master Sensei ever say things in plain English? Everything had to be a metaphor or a mystery when he told Ron something, usually the important stuff too. With all this talk of growth in spirit and hidden capability, the young blacksmith really had to wonder what exactly Sensei saw inside him that he couldn't? Greatness, perhaps? He could never say for sure, with every word, Ron's understanding of his master became more and more curious.

"Yes, of course Mr. Franklin, I'll be sure to tell James…"

Ron was suddenly stirred from his thoughts by a very familiar voice. He hadn't heard it in what felt like forever, but he was sure it was her, there was no mistaking that kind but forceful tone, like the tone he always heard in Kimberly's voice, so loving and caring, yet demanding at the same time. Only a Possible woman could inflict such vocals so fluently. Ron looked up again.

Across the street, right in front of the candle shop, stood Lady Janice Possible, Kimberly's wonderful mother and Governor Possible's wife, his first and only since they'd married nearly twenty-five years before, another rare instance in the Possible family, considering most spouses died before that long a marriage, due to illness or complications during child birth. Ron smiled; the Possibles were a thriving family, he was glad to call them his own, since he did not remember his mother and father very well. He had always considered Janice a mother figure to him, even if her husband didn't look at Ron as a son as much as before, Lady Possible was someone the young blacksmith looked up to for love and advice.

Janice looked exactly as she had in the past twelve years he had known her. Her shape and build was similar to that of her daughter's, tall, curved, and well featured. Her hair was a shade lighter then Kimberly, making it closer to orange then red, and slicked into a nice, tight bun, but her hair was extremely long when she let it down, as she had never cut it in her life, too improper, even for her. Nearly to her legs, so Kimberly had told him once before, though that had been several years ago, and it was probably even longer by now. Ron was surprised it could stay that neat with so much hair to tie up. To complete her prestigious ensemble, a long purple dress, embroidered with similarly colored laces, and a pair of elegant, white, button up gloves that reached her wrists. Simpleton clothes compared to Kimberly's gown from that morning.

It appeared that she was leaving the shop, sharing last minute banter with the owner; Ron could barely understand what she was saying due to distance between the two shops, all he could see from her was a bright smile and the occasional nod. He watched curiously, and waited.

Finally, Janice said her goodbyes and closed the front door carefully. She brushed her skirt off gently with one hand and smoothed her hair with the other, making sure it was in perfect condition, as a proper lady should have it. Once she completed her primping, she smiled gracefully and looked up. Suddenly she was caught by surprise when she saw Ron from across the street, sitting in the dirt, looking equally surprised and happy.

"Good evening, Lady Possible," he called to her politely, shaking off the surprise. It was just good to see another familiar face that day. Quickly, he stood up and walked across the street.

"Ronald," she replied as he reached her, she smiled again. "James told me you were at the manor this morning, I didn't get a chance to say hello before you left."

"Yeah, I was kinda in a hurry..." Ron said quietly, he was still skittish about the details of that morning and quickly went on to change the subject.

"So, what brings you to this part of town, Lady P.?" Ron grimaced the moment the words left his mouth, and he hoped that Mrs. Possible wouldn't notice the outlandish nickname he had called her. But her grin was never ceasing, she didn't mind, she liked it in fact, it sounded contemporary, in a weird way.

Mrs. Possible opened her mouth to speak, but before her answers could be derived of, there was a soft creak and the clatter of footsteps that interrupted their conversation. Both wheeled around, looking back at the candle shop to inspect where the sound had come from. Two young boys, no more then twelve or thirteen, were exiting the door together, soft smiles etched into their faces; they looked exactly identical, same blue eyes, same brown hair, same small ponytail, same black pants and white shirt. The vests they wore were the only things that allowed them to be distinguished, one wore green, while the other wore red.

Two more people exited the shop, much older then the boys. The first was a man, tall, semi-well dressed, and middle aged with gray streaks running through his hair, which he covered with a small, round hat. He held a pile of multi-colored books clamped to his chest. The second was a woman, younger then he, her hair light blonde and long, she was wearing a long gray dress and white apron, which was slightly dusty and dirty after the day's housework, her stomach was large and rounded, signaling that the woman was pregnant. Three young children sifted through their parents' legs and faced the identical boys with irreplaceable smiles, in each of their tiny hands was a strange looking toy.

The two girls each held a metal boy with roses engraved on the sides and top. The youngest carefully opened her box, revealing a mess of small wheels and cogs, a small modal figure of a beautiful princess rose from the box and sat atop a small metal stick, mysteriously twirling to the even more mysterious music that escaped from seemingly nowhere. Ron quickly realized that the music was coming from the box as well.

The young boy clasped a small metal figure, a soldier, Ron supposed, in his hand. Protruding from the soldier's back was a large key, or the end of one, to which Ron could only suppose what it was meant for.

"You boys have brightened our day all the more," replied the mother with a grateful smile. "Thank you, we will remember your thoughtfulness for years to come."

The father nodded. "Indeed, we will," he quickly looked to Mrs. Possible, "Janice, we thank you for the goodbye, it has been my pleasure to serve your family these past few months and I wish you all well, especially after all that trouble at the fort today, shame that is. Oh, and give my compliments to James, would you? Tell him he has two very fine sons who I am sure will grow up to be great men, like their father before them," The twins smiled at the comment. Janice nodded in remark, assuring Mr. Franklin that his comments would reach her husband's ears.

Mr. Franklin clapped his hands together.

"Now, we really must finish packing our things, our ship leaves tomorrow. Anne?" he looked to his young wife, "will you allow the servants to do their job instead of handling the work instead of doing it all yourself, you should not be on your feet, much less lifting heavy things, in your condition,"

Anne shook her head lightly and smiled. "Very well, but I still think I could handle it better."

Mr. Franklin put an arm over Anne's shoulder as they entered the house again, he laughed quietly. "I'm sure, dear, but for now, I need you to rest," he looked over shoulder quickly. "Janice, thank you again! We'll miss you dearly! Children, come along."

The three children quickly acknowledged their father with nods and glances over their shoulders, then looked back at the twin boys, their grins vivid and wild with happiness. Each said a quick and polite 'thank you' before following their parents into the house. The youngest girl, Elizabeth, hesitated for a moment as she watch her siblings, then ran up to the twin in green and gave him a strong hug, her arms wrapped around him lightly as she grasped the musical box in her hand. Janice grinned warmly as she watched the touching scene unfold.

"Thank you so much," Elizabeth whispered into his ear.

She quickly relinquished him from her grip, still grinning ear to ear, and raced behind her brother and sister, who stood waiting at the door. Elizabeth wheeled around before entering the house and gave the twins a wave goodbye, then ran ahead of her siblings with great, spirited happiness. The eldest, the girl, watch her baby sister with a smile before grabbing the door handle and, with one last look to the twins, shutting the front door tightly.

The twins swiftly waved in return as the door closed, then wheeled around to face their mother, who was still as happy as ever.

"Well done, boys, that was very nice of you," Janice complimented. The twins just shrugged in reply.

"No big!" they chorused in unison, causing Janice to raise an eyebrow at the comment, but quickly brush it from her mind without bother. Ron quickly pushed past Mrs. Possible and stopped in front of the two boys, he smiled wildly. Another two familiar faces today, the only good thing about these past few hours.

"James, Timothy!" he called them quickly. He was never sure which was which, as they looked so much alike, but he believed that the one in red was Timothy, and the one in green was James Jr., named for his father. The twins gave Ron a diminutive glare before speaking.

"Ron, haven't we told you before?" stated the boy in red.

"It's Jim and Tim." finished the twin in green with a bit of a sour tone in his voice. His brother shook his head softly and leaned closer to Jim's ear.

"He does the same thing with Kim, no wonder they haven't gotten together yet," he whispered mockingly, the two boys quickly exchanged snickers at the joke, but were quickly quieted as they watched the warning glance their mother cast them. In quick response, they shifted their eyes away and discontinued laughing.

Janice nodded, pleased by their reverence, then turned back to Ron, a swift but apologetic smile ran over her face once more.

"We came down here to say goodbye to the Franklins," she began, picking up the answer she had left off many minutes before, it always amazed Ron the way she could continue speaking that way without any awkwardness, like their had never been a break in the conversation. "Josiah is leaving for Boston in the morning and he has served the family for many months now without falter." Boston, Ron thought, that was somewhere in America, he believed. He'd never been to America, but it sounded fantastic from what he heard from seamen and traders.

"I was to accompany James here, but then he said he was taking Kimberly to the ceremony."

There was a sudden, unexpected pause in the story, as Janice seemed to ponder on her last words, her blue eyes deep with thought. After a long moment of this, she sighed and quickly picked up her tale once more, "but we agreed that I should go by myself instead. Then the boys decided to tag along, seeing as they had made those little toys for the three kids. They're- they're- Oh, boys, what did you call those blasted things?" She looked over her shoulder, where the twins stood, impatiently waiting for their mother to finish her story so they could head home. Tim sighed.

"Animatronics?"

"Wind-up toys?" added Jim, who sighed along with his brother. How can she not know these things?

Janice smiled and snapped her fingers in realization, then switched back to Ron, who was now interested on what an ani-whats-its really did, but was forced to refocus on Janice's story. She sighed before finishing.

"So, here we are," she spoke with amusement. Ron nodded with a smile, and then remembered her mention of the ceremony. He wondered if she knew about what happened, with Kimberly, and the pirate, and the dual. It quickly brought him to ask:

"Did you hear about what happened at the ceremony today?" he asked a bit too quickly. He coughed a little afterward at the awkwardness. Janice seemed to sense it in his voice, but didn't acknowledge it and answered politely.

"Yes, Anne informed me during our visit. Quite a surprising turn of events, indeed," she clamped her hands together, her icy eyes drifted down to the road. Knowing that the subject was uncomfortable for Ronald, she tried to be as caring and delicate with her words as possible.

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I can't believe Kimberly didn't fight back when that Jack Sparrow guy took her hostage! It feels so unlike her! You know what I mean, Mrs. P?"

Mrs. Possible's eyes suddenly widened, she felt a surge of shock and put a hand on her face. A short gasp escaped from her lips.

Ron felt a pang of surprise, realizing that he had let his mouth slip again. He mentally slapped himself and shook his head before quickly speaking. "Possible! I meant Mrs. Possible!" he shouted, flailing his arms wildly.

Janice frowned, her eyes glittered with sadness. She shook her head, her hand still set to her cheek, then she removed it and held her chest softly. Jim and Tim watched their mother with confusion glossing their faces, impatience quietly taking them over in the anticipation to return home.

Mrs. Possible took several steps toward Ron and placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. Her blue eyes pierced his as they waned with surprise and pain.

"Oh, Ronald, you didn't hear, did you?" her voice was soft and hoarse at the same level. Ron raised an eyebrow in confusion, he tilted his head carefully.

"Hear what?" he asked quickly.

Mrs. Possible twisted her mouth around and moved her hand from Ron's arm, then hugged herself slightly as she began speaking again.

"Ronald," she began, looking down at the hem of skirt, she hated to have to be the one to explain this, especially Ron, the one person who would take it hardest. She closed both hands together, sighed deeply, and looked back at her daughter's young friend.

"Before the trouble with the pirate took place," she swallowed hard. "Commodore Mankey proposed to Kimberly."

Ron felt his stomach twist upside down as he took in the words. They echoed inside his head and kicked around in his brain. Emotions flooded him, sadness, anger, and disbelief hit him all at once. The corner of his mouth twitched and his body shook coldly.

"Well," he spoke, trying to smile with humor, tears welling in his eyes. "Mankey certainly failed to mention that."

--

Night enveloped the island with much more darkness then previous evenings as stormy weather continued to creep over. As an added bonus, sheets of thick fog had begun coming over the waters, adding a certain creepiness to nightfall. Everyone was inside by this time, they could all feel it, this night was cursed, very cursed.

The prison added no brightness to the gloomy air, with its slimy, stone walls and moss covered, barred windows. Worn wooden stilts sank deeply into the bay, with six feet of the long strips above water, holding the edges of the jail just over the side of the bay, likely to slip from that potation at any given moment. Dull, candle light glowed inside through the rusted, slimy prison bars. A chorus of voices echoed from inside, calling and coaxing someone with all their mite.

"Come 'er, boy!"

"Want a nice juicy bone?"

"Come 'er!"

"Come on!"

Five men cramped themselves against the large barred door of a single cell, each looking scruffier then the next. Their faces and clothing were tarnished and tattered, covered in dirt and grime. Their hair was grown up and messy, matted beyond belief. The older the man was, the worse he looked, signaling just how long his stay in the rat infested room had been since his last steps of freedom.

Each one tried desperately to gain the creature's attention, snapping their fingers and whistling jovially. Some held worn femur or ankle bones and old pieces of rope, waving them delectably as to coax it over.

In the far corner, just outside the cell, sat a small dog. His puffy, pink fur was well matted, like the men in the cell, but unlike them, he looked far more prestigious styling this look. The poodle had set himself down right out of the reach of the convicts, which wasn't a problem, save for one thing. Set in the mouth of the canine was a ring of keys, which he held proudly, despite it being almost as big as the toy poodle. He had been in that same spot for three hours now, laughing at the pitiful humans in his canine language. He could sit there all night just to entertain himself, they wouldn't stop even for sleep. They would keep trying, and all he would do was sit there and give them a confused puppy dog look. Good time fun!

Captain Jack Sparrow tiredly sat in a separate cell, his back leaned against the door as he lounged about, one knee raised as he limply put his arm across it, the other leg stretched out across the dirt floor. He had his hat carelessly set over his face, covering his eyes and everything above them. He listened to his fellow prisoners' calls and whistles very quietly, inwardly shaking his head in disbelief. No way on Heaven and Earth were the ever going to get those keys, Jack knew, he'd been through similar situations. For awhile now had been trying to tune them out with his thoughts, but in the past hours, they only seemed to have gotten louder and more annoying in their pleads to the pompous little dog.

"You can keep doing that forever," Jack finally spoke, hoping to silence them to some degree, "the dog is never going to move."

Upon hearing Jack's claim, the five men wheeled around on him, all looking a bit surprised and somewhat angry. Jack peaked at them from under his hat.

Each had at least one predominate feature, but only two of them really caught his eye; the shortish man with curly, salt and pepper hair, big, black eyes, and the small cockroach crawled along his hand, though he didn't seem to notice or care. And the taller, but seemingly out of shape, young man with fiery red hair and emerald green, doey eyes. He dropped the femur bone his was holding and glared at Jack before speaking.

"Well, excuse us if we haven't subtracted ourselves from the human equation just yet!" he snapped in a colorful voice. His shorter companion looked up at him in confusion.

"Why do you always talk like that?" he asked with a lisp. The young man veered his glare down and shrugged somewhat.

"I don't know, 'just always been my thing," he answered gratingly before grabbing his bone back off the ground and walking over to the cell door for another round of hopeless begging. The other men quickly acknowledged him and followed suit.

As they restarted their whistles and calls, Jack leaned his head back, closing his eyes and smiling greasily, knowing this would probably go on for the rest of the night. Some people would just never learn.

--

The Possible manor was the only building in all of Port Middleton that didn't reflect the air of the outside world. Instead of tense and superstitious, the family, maids, servants, and butler all aimed for a calm and eased feeling. Already today had they faced too much stress from nearly losing Kimberly twice in a matter of a few minutes, and then nearly losing a great friend to similar circumstances. The family just wanted to relax, if just for a little bit.

Kimberly had been locked in her room since returning home, but no one really bothered to disturb her other then the servants and later her mother, who wanted to make sure she was okay. The twins had also locked themselves in their room, the only difference was that shortly after this occurred was there a huge boom! and plume of smoke filled the hallway as it leaked from under the doorway.

"We can fix that!" chorused the young boys semi-frantically.

Janice raced down the hall, motherly instincts kicking in. Mostlyshe had spent the remainder her eveningin theparlor, reading a new book, more or less pretending to pay attention to the story. Her mind just kept going back to Ronald, how the poor boy had reacted to the news. His shocked and hurt expression locked into her mind forever. She hated being the one to tell him. It wasn't fair to him, she thought, Joshua should've told him. But would it have made a difference? No, he might have taken it even harder coming from Mankey. As she pushed her way through smoke infested hallway, she prayed he would be okay, hopefully the cold night would be easy on him.

--

"Boys, how many times have I told you, no gun powder in the house!"

Mrs. Possible's strained shouting and coughing could be heard even on the third floor of the house, where Kimberly's room was built.

Zita Flores, a young woman no more then Kimberly's age with tan skin and ebony hair, refrained from giggling as she listened to the woman's scolds. As head maid of the house and one of Kimberly's closest girl friends, she had a reputation to uphold, laughing at the Governor's wife, no matter the situation she was being put through, wasn't the best way to put bread on the table, but a good way to get fired, she had a mother and brother that were starving back at home, they depended on her. No, no laughing right now, she had a job to do. In an attempt to distract herself, the young woman walked over to the fireplace in Kimberly's room and checked the fire she had lit not but ten minutes ago, waiting for the coals to warm to just the right temperature.

"It sounds like Lady Possible has her hands full down there, wouldn't you say Kimberly?" Zita asked, hoping to spark some talk between the two of them. Her friend had not spoken since arriving home, and Zita had been dying to ask her about the adventure that had taken place on the dock.

Kimberly sat comfily nestled under a thick goose down comforter as she settled into her warm bed, a rather interesting looking book clamped between her fingers as she read through page after page under the light of a wicker candle. Her emerald eyes never wavered from reading.

"Eh, sounds like the Tweebs blew up their room again," she spoke carelessly. Zita inwardly celebrated, finally she could ask about the day's events without awkwardness.

She looked back at the bed warmer, then grabbed the handle carefully and set it on the floor. Kneeling in her plain dress, she clasped the tongs next the fireplace. Clicking them together a few times, she then reached into the fire place with them and began grabbing hot coals from off the flames and setting them into the open pan.

Once finished, she stood up and closed the bed warmer with the automatic switch. The metal sizzled wildly as she walked over to Kimberly bedside with the hot coals. Zida made a cautious effort as she lifted the mattress up and slid the hot thing under it. Kimberly, noticing her friend's kind work, lowered her book and smiled brightly.

"There you go, Miss," Zida said kindly. "It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure."

Kimberly shrugged lightly and nodded thanks before settling back into her book. The Life and Death of Black Eye Brown the First, read the title in bright gold, large cursive letters. Kimberly had read this one many times before, but somehow, never got sick of the story of Theodore Lipsky. She looked at the thinning sack of pages on the right side of the book, she was nearing the end. That was her favorite part, where Black Eye Brown was hung dead in the center of Tortuga, the Royal Navy had thought they had gotten rid of him for sure, but it was not so. Kimberly turned the final page of the book with love and excitement:

As the soldiers lifted Black Eye's corpse from the hangman's noose and off the platform, mother and child watched as the father was taken by death and justice. The mother with tears of loss, the son with thoughts of vengeance. He himself, though no more then a boy, had suffered from the wrath of Navy, but now they had taken his dislike to a whole new place. As he gritted his teeth and clenched fists of anger, the spirit of Black Eye Brown the First seemed to overtake his son, with the promise of revenge and a second generation where Black Eye ruled the Seven Seas.

Kimberly read the final paragraph with a thought-filled look in her eye. She loved the story of Black Eye Brown, but always wondered what became of his son. Did he ever succeed in his vengeance? Where was he now? No one had seen him since the death of his father. She wondered if he really became the second Black Eye Brown? Well, I'll contemplate that another time, she thought to herself, closing her book carefully. She ran a hand over the cover before setting it on her night stand, then looked to Zida, who was straightening the covers over the bed warmer.

"Well, I suspected Commodore Mankey would propose but I must admit, I wasn't entirely prepared for it." she answered with a smile as she curled under her blanket and laid her head onto her pillow.

Zida looked up with surprise. Mankey had proposed? Kimberly was right, that had been expected. She always knew the young man had a soft spot for the Governor's daughter, but from the way Kimberly had spoken of the proposal, she could tell that the aristocrat was less then pleased with the turn of events. But still, as interesting as it was, that wasn't what Zida wanted to know about!

"Well, I meant you being threatened by that pirate." she said as if gossiping to Kimberly. "Sounds terrifying."

The young redhead looked to her friend with a glossed over expression. "Oh," Kimberly muttered, she let her eyes drift down as she wondered how to reply. She had always dreamed of meeting a pirate, even more so, Jack Sparrow, and even though their close encounter turned ill-mannered, it was still something she would not quite forget and meant a lot to her. Zida was the greatest friend a girl could have, but she would never understand Kimberly's piracy obsession.

"Yes, it was terrifying." the redhead lied through her teeth. Zida seemed concerned, but seeing as she had gotten her answer, let the matter drop.

"But the Commodore proposed," she spoke brightly, changing the subject. "Fancy that. Now, that's a smart match, Miss, if it's not too bold to say."

Kimberly looked down again, thinking Zida's words through. With a frown, she replied."It is a smart match." she admitted, her pride failing her as she was forced to say what she had denied for so long. But what her friend had said was true, Kimberly knew it. She sighed. "He's a fine man; he's what any woman should dream of marrying."

Zida watched Kimberly's hard, cold admission, and, with wide eyes, couldn't help but think. She finished straightening the sheets, then side-stepped to the bed with a cautious smile, leaning in on a regretful Kimberly.

"Well, that Ron Stoppable," she said with minor obviousness in her voice, as if to point out what she'd noticed. "He's a fine man too."

Kimberly felt a cold shock wave hit her brain as Zida spoke. She took another moment of thought, then turned her face stern, sharpened her eyes and soured her frown.

"That is too bold." she said coldly.

The young maid sensed her hostility. "Well, begging your pardon, Miss. It was not my place." Zida backed away slowly, and made a swift curtsey before stepping outside the bedroom.

Kimberly breathed in. She curled her fingers together and thought solemnly. It wasn't what Zida had said that disturbed her, but the idea in itself. Her and Ron, a couple? No, no, never! Ron was her friend, not her love interest!

Or was he?

Would it be that bad? Ron understood better then anyone in her life, he accepted her for what she was, he cared deeply for her, there was a chance that they could become an item. She had always had a deep sense of love for Ron anyway, but just how deep was she willing to go?

But wait, no, it would never work! Ron was a blacksmith, no Royal Navy commodore or aristocrat to be sure. She may be able to accept that, but no one else would. Commodore Mankey, friends, the aristocratic populous of Port Middleton, and father. Oh father! Governor Possible may think of Ron as a son, but didn't love him enough to let him marry Kimberly. He wanted her to settle down with some pretty boy Navy officer. Like Mankey, she thought bitterly, still feeling sick over the proposal. She would never accept it, ever! No matter what!

Bang!

Her rant was suddenly interrupted as her windows' shudders slammed open, sending her curtains flailing as high winds whistled from outside. The lite candle was hit by a gust and quickly blown out, leaving the room in total darkness, save for the light of the full moon.

Without a thought, Kimberly pushed off the comforter, sprang from her bed and ran over to the window. She grabbed the edges of each shudder and began to push them then back into place, she struggled and grunted as the winds strained against her, putting up quite a fight. After a few moments of pitched battle, Kimberly was able to gain the upper hand, slamming the windows back, locking them this time over.

She leaned against the windowpane, breathing in relief. It had taken quite a bit of strength. The weather was getting far worse out there.

She felt a sharp pinch of pain in her chest, the same one she had felt at the dock, if a thousand times worse. Kimberly slipped from the window and kneeled on wooden floor, refusing to scream out.

She let the pain fade out, and shivered with fear, placing a hand on her chest. She felt a cold chain on her neck and rubbed it carefully. The medallion, it was still there, she was still wearing it. She reached inside her nightgown and pulled the coin out, admiring it carefully. But something didn't feel right about it now, it seemed colder, darker, almost menacing. The way it caught the moonlight felt especially... cursed. Yes, that was the word she was looking for. She slipped the necklace away again, breaking contact with the hypnotizing sheen of the medallion.

Another mind-numbing whistle ran through her head as the wind slipped through the small crevices between the windows. She groaned, how would she ever get to sleep with that noise? Kimberly pushed against the wall and carefully managed to lift herself up. Then straightened out her nightgown and looked to the window, placing her hands on each one. She was hoping to close them a little bit more, as to block out the storm, but before she could start in her endeavor, she froze, body turned cold by the sight before her.

She'd hoped to never see it again, in all her years since that fateful day on the Dauntless. And even though it had been some time since then, she remembered it with great detail, right down to the color of the teak. Even from her high point in the manor, she could recognize the bleak coldness and all around fear that pulsed from the black haul of the ship, with sails of matching color and in ghostly looking conditions, the ship that had haunted her nightmares for so many years.

Kimberly watched quietly as the Black Pearl sailed into Port Middleton.

--

Thank you to Chapter 4 reviewers CajunBear73, dragondrewversion2, NotTheCrimpMaster, daywalkr82, Invader Johnny, Josh84, DuffKilliganFan, Darth Comrade for reviewing Chapters 3 and 4, spedclass for reviewing all five chapters, Arya MageFire, and CMY, whose advice has proved to be most helpful so far, I thank him once again.

Any grammatical, spelling, or errors in general you may have seen, please point them out, and I shall fix them.

Yes, back in business! Sorry for the huge wait guys! Writer's block hit me bad, and if anything sounded too rushed, it's probably because I was trying to get this finished. Hopefully I can have the next chapter out sooner (though I never do), expect Shego and Barbossa in the next chapter (sorry guys, I had to cut it in half again).

There was a couple of new KP cameos and a Season 4 reference. Did you catch them? Internet nacos to those who guess right!

Anyone know who Josiah and Anne Franklin are, anyone? Pull out your history books and break out Google and Wikipedia! I'll reveal the correct answer in the next chapter.

At World's End is out, how awesome is it? Very! This movie rocks, and I mean heavy! Be sure to go see it! I do plan to write both a Dead Man's Chest and At World's End fusion as sequels to this, for those who are interested.

And also, check my profile for the link to the trailer I made for this story, it's on YouTube now! I plan to make a second version with clips from Cap'n Drakken very soon.

Next Chapter: Invasion of Piracy.