Disclaimer: Still the same as the first chapter.

To you, ol' dear reader: Hello! Thank you for reading and I hope you shall review also. I love to hear from you! Belle and Jack are going to get acquainted in this chapter and Belle is going to learn a very interesting secret about her past…

Drink up me 'earties,

PineAppleLint


She glanced down the hallway, trying to make sure the maids were not about to find her and ask her what she was doing. Belle snuck into her father's bedchambers and started going through his clothes. She looked in the long mirror, holding up an outfit to her body. This was going to fit nicely.

She laced up the leather vest and stared at herself in the mirror. Well, hell's bells! She made a good pirate lass, even if she did say so herself. She was wearing a baggy white shirt with a striped vest over it, brown pants that cut off at the knees and white leggings to go with it. Black boots that she had to stuff parchment in in order to get them to fit her small feet right pulled the whole ensemble together. She couldn't expect herself to go where she was heading in heeled monstrosities. She tied a red bandanna around her head and let her waist- long blond hair fall freely. She frowned as she examined herself again. Belle didn't have the tan that pirates usually had. Her skin was a creamy, pale color, immediately giving away her high status. What could she do about it now? Color herself in?

Giggling at the ridiculous thought, Belle went to her father's nightstand and grabbed the silver dagger he kept in the bottom drawer for protection. She sheathed it in her boot and ran back to her second story window that overlooked Port Royal. There was a large oak tree outside that she used to climb onto as a small child, and the branches almost touching the window. She already had one foot outside when she heard her door open.

"Miss Gilily!" the young maid exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing?"

"Gloria!" she gasped, falling back onto the soft Oriental rug, "You scared me!"

"Come back inside, Miss. This is not very wise decision on your part..."

"Gloria," she sighed, "Please, don't tell Father. Just give me one night. Leave it to me to make sure he doesn't find out about my whereabouts."

"Where are you going?" Gloria asked, suddenly excited.

"The tavern," she replied with a wink, "To see what else there is to life besides this black and white portrait of perfection."

"The tavern?" Gloria grimaced, eyes wide, "But that place is raunchy, dirty, and..."

"Absolutely intriguing?" Belle added with a grin, "This is going to be one hell of an adventure!"

"Now, don't use that language, Miss! It isn't proper for a nice young lady like yourself!"

"I'm sick of proper, Gloria. And I'm twenty years old. For tonight, I'm a pirate and anything but proper. Good night, Gloria."

"Good night, Miss Gilily! Please, do be careful!"

"I will, lass," she said in a feigned, rough pirate's voice, "I assure ye!" Gloria muffled her laughter and watched with a worried look as Belle climbed all the way down the tree. Belle gave her one last wave before running off down the cobblestone streets of Port Royal.


Belle stood outside and as the old wooden door swung open, she could hear the raging sounds of fighting and laughter coming from inside. The sign that said "The Bilge Water" swung slightly in the cool summer breeze, with it carrying the sweet smell of the sea. She took a long breath of fresh air and practically stumbled as some dirty pirate came barreling out of the tavern, ran into her, then whirled around and began to vomit on the street side. Belle curled her lip in disgust before sighing. There was no turning back now. For tonight, she would live up to her dreams of being a fierce female. She opened the door with one hard swing and quickly took in the general splendor.

The room was dimly lit and all the noise was earsplitting. There were whores, pirates, and simpleton men looking for a good time. Rum was sloshing everywhere, mugs were clinking, and the whores were working their magic, trying to get a night's pay. The bartender was quickly filling up mugs and just as quickly getting new orders.

Belle sat down at the only available rickety wooden table and yelled, "'Ey! One mug o' rum o'er here!" The bartender glanced up and his eyes narrowed, studying her, as if he knew this was not her place. But he finally grabbed a mug and got one of his girls to bring it to her. She clinked it down and the redhead held out her hand. Belle grabbed a few shillings from her pocket and placed it in her sweaty palm. The girl smiled triumphantly and walked off, getting her new orders. She grabbed the stained mug and without thinking, downed some of the warm liquid in one gulp. She began to cough loudly, thumping her chest with the palm of her hand. The bittersweet rum burned all the way down and started a ticklish sensation in the pit of her stomach. She took another sip and then realized everyone had gone quiet. They were staring at door.

Belle glanced over, desperately wanting to know the cause of the silence, and found a tall man standing there, studying everyone with a grin while flashing some of his gold teeth. He had dark brown hair that was pulled back in a red bandanna and had a tricorne hat perched at the top of his head. He had a goatee with trinkets and beads strung into the two braids, and some of the beads entwined in his unruly long hair. He was tanned and muscular from long days under the sun. His brown eyes scanned the crowd and they finally rested on Belle. Her eyes widened as she panicked and looked at her table. It contained the only seat left in the whole tavern.

"I thought Captain Jack Sparrow was dead," she heard a man whisper in horror.

"You can't kill Jack," another wagered, "He's good…and always makin' miraculous escapes."

"That's right, gentlemen," Jack said, tipping his hat in greeting, "I'm back in Port Royal to right some wrongs. You scabberous dogs best be watchin' your backs!" Everyone chuckled and shook their heads. Apparently he was a popular man among the others. Belle's mind began to spin as realization hit her like a sledgehammer. Captain Jack Sparrow. The infamous pirate of the Caribbean. She had heard so many stories, thinking most of them were fables at the time.

Now here was the man himself in her midst to prove her wrong.

He walked over, appearing almost as if he were drunk, with his hands flailing about and that narrow-hipped swagger only HE could pull off without looking like a complete fool. He sat down across from Belle and began to examine her with thoughtful eyes.

"You…you're Jack Sparrow?" she asked, forgetting to use her tough pirate voice while she was completely at a loss for words.

"CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow," he corrected with a crooked grin, "Aye. You've heard of me, luv?"

"I certainly have," she replied with a smile.

"And what is yer name, luv?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Belle Gilily," she responded proudly.

"You don't seem as if you belong here, Miss Gilily."

"Don't be so bold, Captain Sparrow," she replied with a slight narrowing of her eyes, "I belong where I want to belong."

"You are the one bein' a bit bold, Gilily. I can tell you aren't cut out for the rough life. Escape from home, I wager?"

She frowned and said, "Perhaps I did. Want to make somethin' of it?"

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he replied, "Hell no, lass. I just want a drink." Suddenly his chocolate brown eyes darkened and he looked as if he was in a deep meditation of sorts.

"What?" she asked, "Why are you staring at me so?"

"You look awfully familiar. You look like someone I used to know a long time ago."

"And who would that be?" she asked, frowning.

Without warning, he grabbed at her wrist and she jumped. "Let go of me!" she growled. He didn't listen to her and turned her hand over so her palm was facing upwards.

"Just what I thought," he murmured in shock, then met her harsh glare, "Do you know what that is?"

She glanced at her own hand, staring at the birthmark on her wrist. It was in the shape of a sun coming over the ocean horizon. "An unusual birthmark, Captain Sparrow," she shot back, "Nothing that interesting. I've had it for as long as I can remember. Now what is all the fuss about?"

"That." he said while tracing his thumb along the scarred flesh, "Is no birthmark. That is the brand of Captain "Blackstone" Blake. And I think you are his daughter."