Heyyy I am SO sorry for the inexplicably long wait... I have good excuses I promise :

1, I'd been going through a hard time (to do with bullying) and I had to get back on track.

2, I've had lots of exams.

3, I've revisited the love of Doctor Who xD

And 4, I've had a busy schedule - BUT I have kept on writing and will now return and get to typing the rest of the story.

I want to say thank you to all those wonderful reviewers, who kept pleading me to carry on : I haven't forgotten, I've just not been feeling myself, yet now I'm back, I'm going to make this story worth following! c:

Chapter 6: An Attack from Nowhere

Meanwhile on The Queen Anne's Revenge

Vicious knocking rapped through the wooden doors to the lair of the one legged Captain, who was slouching in his throne as he closed his eyes and smelt the abyss of darkness around him.

He had everything he wanted: The most feared ship in the whole of the existent waters, an enthusiastic and loyal crew, and a familiar enemy that once again he traipsed after for blood, money and adrenaline.

"Cap'n?"

Barbossa grunted and shot his bloodshot eyes open, squinting through the dimly lit scene before him.

"Aye, ye may enter." he called back, with that usual sense of authority he always seemed to carry with his words and wisdom.

The brittle door swung open, allowing a cheeky looking fellow to make himself present. He wrung his dirty, scabby hands together and slowly shivered when he took shy steps forward.

"I wanted t'confess something Sir." the man spoke timidly, almost like a young boy who was afraid of making his father mad. "I done a bad thing."

"Now now, Scrum. Ye know that I be not a priest or pixie that can listen to ye problems and relieve ye of ye venomous burdens... so maybe if ye just turn back around..."

Scrum stomped his foot down and cleared his throat, timid eyes finally meeting his Captain's elder ones.

"I 'ave to tell you Cap'n. Or else if I don't... I'm not sure I could live with meself." he said quietly, scratching his neck.

Barbossa gave a reluctant nod and motioned for him to go on with his story.

"When we began our journey and the first time y'told me that y'told me I was to be First Mate - I was so 'appy... And when y'set me off on that first task to rid the ship of any incompliant inconveniences within the crew... and row them to shore to maroon them... I met someone. A woman."

Barbossa rolled his eyes.

"It was 'er. The last First Mate. I panicked 'cause she 'ad her shackles 'round my neck an'..."

"Just tell me what ye did." Barbossa said sternly, the whole mood between them returning to how it had started out to be.

"Well, she said she'd let me liveif I got 'er from the island and back to port," Scrum paused, swallowing as he looked at his Captain's icy glare. "I agreed to 'er deal, on the condition that she paid me as well."

"So ye got paid by our enemy?!"

"Not exactly..."

Scrum shoved his hand into his grubby pocket, fishing out a little wicker figure that bared an ancient style and coloured accessories dangling down from the dreadlock-looking hair. He slammed the familiar doll onto the desk, sliding it closer to his Captain.

"Who does it control?" Barbossa asked in whisper, even though he knew the answer through the look of the voodoo doll now resting carefully in his worn hands.

Scrum smirked and sniggered, giving the older Captain in front of him a smug stare.

"It controls Sparrow."

"I left," Jack whispered, frowning up at the dark blanket of pulsing stars above him. "Why? Why did I do that?"

The whole ship was deserted - all of the crew were in their hammocks, and Angelica would be fast asleep by now (she was still in a furious rage at him - how could he lead her on like that and then... ugh!)... so he was alone. Back where he started.

"I don't even remember leavin'..." he whispered, knitting his dark eyebrows as he leaned back onto the wooden panels behind him, outstretching his legs over the deck. "Bloody... rum. Must 'ave been rum."

He sighed and tipped his hat over his head to shade his eyes from the moonlight, his orbs closing in thought.

"Got a bangin' 'ead ache..." he murmured (more like slurred, yet he wasn't drunk...) as his head lolled back further and a sleepy daze came over him in a sudden lazy rush. "Woonder iffff... Angeeelicaaa will ever ...forgive mee..."

His body jerked violently and he then stayed completely still, not even his lungs were moving inside of him. It was like he'd just collapsed dead there and then...

The pair of cabin door's swung back and forth as Angelica emerged from the bright inside of the ship to the dismal, discrete outside of the ship. She tossd her hair and padded slowly, lightly over each panel on the deck, annoyed when she realized the rest of the ship creaked anyway.

She carried a small glowing lantern in one hand, holding it up in front of her so her eyes could see clearly what was right before her feet. She heard light snores from the crew's hammocks and cursed them under her breath for making her look away from what she was doing.

"Jack?" she whispered hoarsely, her Spanish accent seeming softer now she was concerned. "Jack, are you out here?"

She lifted the lantern so it was right in front of her face, just so she could check the opposite end of the ship without actually going over to the other end of the Pearl. Yet her legs kept moving forward, closer to the side of the ship...

Thump.

Angelica gaped and brought the lantern down, setting on the floor as she kneeled down to see what she kicked.

Her hands felt clothes, skin and bones... She felt a face with flesh, hair and well defined features...

"Jack?" she breathed, frowning when the light shone over his face, revealing his unresponsive coma-like state. "Oh God..."

She slapped his face repetitively, eyes widening when he didn't awaken.

She watched his torso to see if he was breathing.

It didn't move.

He wasn't breathing.

"Heart, check the heart..."she told herself, tears beginning to fill up in her dark brown eyes, now less full of life than they once had been before.

She felt for his pulse, pressing down hard on his wrist and neck...

Nothing.

Not a single beat.

She didn't lose hope yet; she wiped away her tears and watched him from a while, denying every accusaton that he was dead... She knew he couldn't be... h must be... half dead.

Every second she watched him, she noticed a line of little red dots appearing on his chest, like a wound was just developing even though he was apparently 'dead'.

"Impossible." she muttered, frowning as the red dots joined up, forming a long bloody gash down the front of his torso; his crinkled opal shirt was now stained with scarlet blotches from the blood beneath the clothing...

What was happening?

This wasn't just someone trying out a little trick with a voodoo doll.

This was someone who genuinely wanted to kill.

She could tell that even now, as Jack laid out 'dead' before her, the he was wincing and cursing from the pain the dark magic had made him take refuge in.

He was caught in a cage of suffering.

And she had no way of breaking him out.

Thanks for getting to the bottom, I haven't abandoned this! Sorry this was so short but... More to come very shortly ;)

SecretSparrowTodd, Forever in Your Gratitude ;)

-Keep writing, reading and reviewing c: xx