Thanks to my sister Turner's Corset for partial inspiration in this story! I couldn't have done it without her! She will be helping me write the Will/OC parts for this story . Check out her story "A Different Kind of Pirate Tail" it's a Will/Elizabeth fic. Full Summary: Captain Red Ariel Truelove and Captain Black Rose Crown are the most feared female pirates in the Spanish Main. What happens when they must help an old friend regain his memory and stop a vengeful pirate captain and his lustful daughter? Now, what ye 'ave waited so long for ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 1: Lost

Her thick hair wound around her body in the howling winds. The churning sea lapped repeatedly over the name of the ship, the Scarlet Morrow. It's captain stood proudly at the helm, shouting orders to her crew through the raging storm. The coarse, salty spray from the sea brushed across her cheeks, hiding her tears from the men of the crew.
"Tie the sails down!" her desperate cries floated, lost, into the air.
"We can't , Captain! 's too dangerous. We best be goin' below deck an' wait it out!" Her first mate, Picotte, had always looked out for her. Though she did not trust many, there would be a hollow space in her heart for her lost mate. It would be useless to wait out this storm; the ship would be lost. She had seen it.
"Very well, go below." As soon as the order passed her lips, a pang of guilt stabbed at her. She was sending them to their deaths. Her crew hurried below deck as she untied herself from the wheel. Picotte waited at the top step for her. With a wave of her hand, she urged him to go on. Reluctantly, he disappeared below the ship.
She joined them a few moments later. Guilt racked her as she stared at each of them. They stared back at her, their suppressed doubt and fear showing vividly int heir eyes. They needed reassurance, but she could give them none.
He vision had been unusually vague. A storm brewed, she tied herself to the wheel and urged her crew to save her ship that was fragile on these waters. She saw herself ordering her crew below deck, and the ship splintering from the force of the waters. Each crewmember was lost below the churning waves of the Caribbean.
It was her fate to allow these events to happen, even help them along. Her visions only served to prepare her for the inevitable. Sometimes her human feelings got in the way. Guilt had nearly destroyed her, and she could not remember a time in which fate had not rested in her hands, however shaky they may be.
With a violent cracking reverberation, the ship's walls began to splinter. The ship was slowly breaking apart, leading its crew to a torturous death. Captain Truelove drowned out the panicked shouts of her crew to make one last plea to the gods.
"Please let it be different this time! What use am I to you if I am dead? You give me this gift, then kill me for it! You cannot allow me to die, you just can't! Please just send someone to save me! Please!" Her pleas were lost, unheard. The wall burst open, water pouring into the room.
She watched each one of them die, willing air to push into their starving lungs, then stop struggling. Death claimed them. Captain Truelove swam above them, keeping her head above water. They would not win this time. Death would not come for her, not claim her today.
She managed to hold her grasp on an overhead beam in attempt to fight the alarming rate of the current that poured into the ship's hull. Unbeknownst to her, the bam was slowly splintering under her weight. With a sharp crack, the beam gave way, plunging her into the rising water that she had so desperately tried to keep her head above.
Recovering quickly, Captain Truelove dove down, searching for her last means of escape. She groped for the window lock that was embedded deeply into the wall, working hastily to unlatch it. It opened with a muffled, but satisfying click. Swimming through the window she saw that the ship was almost entirely immersed in the sea.
She skillfully avoided debris as she swam upward, brushing past fragments of broken wood. The Scarlet Morrow had been reduced to mere splinters. Breaking the surface, she gasped for breath, feeding her starving lungs. Relief flooded through her as she grabbed a piece of what was left of her freedom, praying silently that someone would come upon her soon.
Panic claimed her once again as an unseen force pulled her into the cool, dark waters of the Caribbean. She struggled against whatever was holding her back, but it did not relinquish its hold, it only made it stronger.
Looking down, the salt water stinging her eyes, she saw that her leg had been intertwined in a length of rope. As the ship went down, it took her with it. Captain and vessel would share the same fate. She tugged at the rope, silently willing it to uncoil.
Blood stained the water around the rope as her fingers grew numb from struggling with it. Her lungs were screaming for air. In one last attempt to break free, Captain Truelove struggled with her boot. She managed to work the rough leather free of her foot. Kicking toward the surface, she could see the sunlight glimmering on the surface of the water. Just as the tips of her fingers touched the sun-warmed surface, darkness invaded her vision and enveloped her in one fleeting moment.