Author's note: I'm back! Here's a few more of our favorite PotC characters (whom i don't own). Hope you enjoy!

Kaylee made her way down to the docks, trying to look inconspicuous as she hurried. As thick as Jack's skull was, who knew how long he would remain unconscious? She made her way up to the Pearl's gangplank, which was guarded by two men. The tall, skinny one was arguing something about providence and good and evil with the short, bald one, and they didn't notice Kaylee as she snuck aboard.

The man she was looking for was sitting at a table in Jack's quarters, studying a map. Hector Barbossa frightened her, but she also knew he was a more sensible man than Jack, and she had the information he needed to get what he wanted. He finally looked up and saw her there and flashed her a crooked smile. "Ah, Miss MacEwan, to what do I owe the pleasure of yer company?"

"I find myself in need of a ship."

Barbossa laughed. "What, missy, planning on being some sort of pirate queen like Granuaile?"

She looked down at the map and pretended to study it, trying to maintain her cool. "Actually, I'm planning on sailing to Davy Jones' locker to fetch someone back. I've been told that you're familiar with those waters."

"Aye, that I am." He sat back and looked at her. "Yer wanting to fetch back your sailor beau, I suppose. What might compel me to charter this little field trip?"

"I happen to know that Jack Sparrow is quite unconscious on the floor of my tavern, and now would be the opportune time to take possession of this ship."

"He's that drunk already?"

"No, I clubbed him in the head with a rum bottle."

Barbossa roared with laughter. "Did ye now? I think I like you Kaylee MacEwan. I'm right inclined to give you a hand. Tell Masters Pintel and Ragetti to round up the crew on your way out, and be back here before dawn, preferably wearing something a bit less feminine. I'll be expecting you to pull your weight on this trip."

"Agreed."

Back in her upstairs room at the Golden Parakeet, Kaylee looked at herself in the mirror. She had gone to check Jack and found him still passed out on the floor, and made sure there was another bottle of rum on hand for him to down when he came to. Knowing him, that would be the first thing he would do. This time she didn't even take the cost of the bottle from him, for what she was doing to him, it was worth a bottle or two.

Now she stood there, wearing the clothes that James had left behind. The breeches were far too long, and she'd had to belt them with a cord, but they would do. She held the long braid of her hair in her hand, staring at it mournfully. Turning away with a look akin to pain, she sliced off the plait at the base of her neck with a sharp knife. It fell to the floor with a thud, and she looked at herself again. Now, if you didn't look too closely, she looked like a ragged little cabin boy. She had to swallow a couple of tears for her vanity, she'd never cut her hair before. She steeled her gaze in he mirror, and then walked out and toward the docks. Some things had to be done.

Yes, I know the hair thing is a tad dramatic, but heck, my hair only reaches my mid-back, and i'd cry if i had to cut it. How does she know Barbossa? who knows... maybe he worked on the Wicked Wench too, maybe he frequented the Golden Parakeet. Either way, they know each other. Please R&R