A/N: Here it is! Chapter 8! It's only five months late, but it's finished. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own PoTC. I do own the plot and Myra, though, thankyouverymuch.

AURUM

. a curse reborn .

- chapter 8 -

Myra knew his name now. The man had taken her back to the tavern, more for his own indulgence than anything, and slowly slipped into giddy drunkenness. Without the aid rum, she imagined he would have been more than happy to let her work herself out of this mess, which of course was absolutely impossible. She was stuck in the past in a pirate town with no way of getting home. And what was more, she was cursed. But after multiple drinks, Captain Jack Sparrow had explained to Myra exactly what this curse of hers entailed. She was now immortal, and when touched by moonlight she would turn into a walking cadaver. How delightful.

She and Jack sat opposite one another at one of the pub's few tables amidst a whirlwind of noise and chaos. It was suprising she could even think with all that was going on around her. Behind the messl of shouts and yells, gunshots sounded from outside and rickety horse-drawn carts clattered down the street. This whole place was just so loud.

"But I still don't understand," she grumbled, a bit aggravated with her remaining confusion. "Why do I even have this stupid curse? I didn't take this from the chest!" Myra was yelling now, partly to be heard and partly out of angry frustration, leaning on her elbows and waving the coin frantically in his face.

"What're you asking me for?" He took a deep swig of his rum, finishing what little was left in the mug. "Now, if you'll 'scuse me, I need another drink."

"No, Jack, listen to me!" Myra grabbed hold of his sleeve as he tried to stand, pulling him back into his seat. "You're the only one on this island who can help me and I you to at least be conscious."

The captain yanked his sleeve from her grip, rising to his wobbly feet. "Oh, just one more, that's all." Jack stumbled sideways, and has to grasp back of his chair so that he wouldn't fall over.

Myra rolled her eyes. "Jack, you've had four drinks already. That's enough."

Jack grinned wildly. "Oh, but you can never 'ave enough rum, darling," he slurred, waving his cup in the air dramatically.

"No, Jack, listen..." Myra wasn't going to sit back and watch her only hope of getting home drink himself into oblivion. She pulled the mug from his hands, hoping that would get him to cooperate, or at least show him that she was being serious and wasn't following a drunken pirate for her health. "You have to help me." Then a brilliant idea dawned on her. "You said you would." Myra smirked inwardly. Sober, Jack had every chance of outwitting her, but slopping drunk, Myra clearly held the advantage.

Jack stared at her, searching within his memory for some proof of this. He found none, though this could easily be a result of his drunkenness. "I did not," he stated as resolutely as his condition would allow, though his slightly garbled speech didn't exactly give the imposing tone he desired. He then snatched at his mug, dancing around her as he tried to retrieve it but to no avail. "Now give tha' back."

Myra stepped away, holding the mug behind her back with both hands. "I'll give it back -" she said as Jack reached around her, but the mug still evaded his grasp, "-but only one one condition."

"Anything," Jack said with slight whimper in his voice. "Just give me back my rum!"

A wide grin spread across Myra's face and she shoved the tin cup back into Jack's hands. So he'd do anything?

- x - x -x -

Jack Sparrow awoke late the next morning with a terrible hangover. He had little memory of what had happened the night before; his only recollection was that of a young girl, a young girl with brown curly hair dressed in men's clothes. She had something, something important, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was. But he brushed all thought of her aside. What did it matter? He'd never see her again, anyway.

He was surprised to find himself on board the Black Pearl. Perhaps he'd returned to his ship on his own, or perhaps he'd been dragged there by someone on the crew; he couldn't remember. Apparently they'd left Tortuga, though, because all he could hear behind the low murmuring of men's voices was the soft rushing of waves and the creaking of the ship beneath him. There was no wild shouting, no drunken yelling, no raucous gunfire; All he could hear was the comforting sound of the sea.

Jack rolled out of bed with a groan, placing his hat on his head as he stumbled towards the door. The sun was intense and harsh against his eyes, and he squinted to keep from being completely blinded. It was Mr. Gibbs who saw him first.

"Morning, Cap'n," Gibbs said upon spotting him. "I was wonderin' when you'd be wakin' up."

"Morning," Jack answered, still a bit groggy from God knows how many hours of alcohol-induced sleep. He glanced briefly towards the open ocean. There was no sight of land in any direction. How long had they been sailing? "Er... How long was I asleep? Or more importantly, where exactly are we going?"

Gibbs gave him an odd look. "You don't remember, cap'n? When you got on board, you told everyone that we should head straight to Tia Dalma's --"

"Tia Dalma's?" What on earth would posess him to go there? There had to have been a good, rational reason. Perhaps he'd had one last night, but just couldn't remember. "Why?" he asked fiercely. "Did I say why?"

Mr. Gibbs was a bit taken aback, and he shook his head hastily. "No, you didn't. You just brought that girl on board --"

"Girl?" Jack was nearing the point of 'furious.' "What girl?!"

There came a screech from above the two men, and a small monkey, Jack's namesake, sailed over their heads. The little animal landed nimbly on the deck and scurried across the ship, weaving between the feet of crewmembers. He stopped only when he reached Myra, who sat on the steps up to the forecastle. The monkey leapt into her lap and fiddled curiously with the buttons on her vest.

"You... ?" Jack whispered, breathless with surprise. He crossed the ship, following the path the monkey had taken towards Myra and stared at her as though she were a ghost, a figment of his imagination. And however much he willed her image to disappear, she remained where she sat, grinning up at him with a delightful smirk.

"Don't you remember, Jack?" Myra asked tauntingly. "Don't you remember what happened last night?"

"Perhaps," Jack growled, pulling out his pistol and pointing it with every intention of pulling the trigger, "you'd like to refresh my memory."

Myra sighed and shook her head. "Put your gun away, Jack, before you make a fool of yourself."