SUMMARY: 'To gain any amount of respect I had to be twice as loud, twice as tough and twice as competent as the men'. . . a short look at the softer side of Anamaria, and her life before PotC.

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A/N: Hi! Hope you enjoy this (very) short one-shot ficlet. It just popped into my head and I had to write it. I know Ana might seem out of character, but remember I'm trying to show her softer side. Please, please review! If you've got a story of your own, you know how great every little review is. If not, take my word for it! Anyways, enjoy. . .

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SALT WATER by Arien

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They say its bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship. I don't know if it's true, but I do know one thing: its bad luck *being* a woman aboard a ship.

For as long as I can remember I've wanted to sail. There's salt water in my veins, and it makes me thirst for the sea. As a girl I swam every day with my brothers. I loved feeling the rippling power of the endless waves tug at my heart, and listening to the call of the gulls as they skimmed the salty swell. At night I would lie in bed, surrounded by my sleeping family, and pretend that I was aboard a ship. I would close my eyes and imagine that the waves were rocking me to sleep.

"Anamaria," my parents said, "you must find yourself a respectable job." They wanted me to become a maid at one of the manors. I still remember the terrible arguments, our voices reverberating like canon fire through the little house. Eventually they tossed me out. Washed their hands of me. I found myself alone in the street with the clothes on my back and not much else; I toughened up fast. I spent a while as a pickpocket; the only way for a girl to earn money outside a whorehouse. When I had a good pile of gold I bartered passage aboard a merchant ship bound for Tortuga.

I stayed in Tortuga for a year. By this time I was a young woman, no longer a child. I spent some time aboard merchant ships and slave ships, teaching myself the finer points of sailing. But I soon realised that the merchant life wasn't for me; I wanted freedom, not detailed maps and set courses and heavy cargo.

So I became a pirate. I heard that a pirate ship, the Wildcat, was looking for an extra crewmember. I hunted down the Cat and marched onboard. It took a while to convince the captain but he eventually surrendered and gave me the position. I learned to drink rum and talk like a scallywag. To gain any amount of respect I had to be twice as loud, twice as tough and twice as competent as the men. It was hard- I spent many nights smothering salty tears in my pillow- but I did it.

And now here I am, several years later, aboard the Pearl. It's dusk, and I'm standing with my calloused hands resting on the helm. The sun is clinging to the sky with ropes of streaky colour and the water looks strewn with diamonds. The Pearl's polished stern is carving through the shimmering ocean, leaving a frothy trail and gentle swell in her wake.

It's a good life. It's the life I want.

But sometimes I wonder if that little girl who laughed with her brothers in the waves is lost forever.

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