A/N: I guess you could say that I forgot about this story for a bit. And by a bit, I mean A YEAR! To the date, if anyone is counting. Anyway, I was distracted from this due to my other fan fictions that had taken over my attention span, which, unfortunately, is rather small. As it were, I hope you enjoy this chapter and haven’t forgotten the plot of this story. I sure as hell haven’t and due to my Pirates weekend extravaganza I had this past weekend, my love for POTC has been rekindled and with it, I hope, this story.

Anyway, here it is! I hope it’s not too boring and rambling. After this, I promise it will get much more interesting! Enjoy!

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Chapter Two

Tortuga had always held a special place in the heart of Captain Jack Sparrow. Most people or more accurately, pirates assumed that it was because of the seemingly endless supply of rum that came his way; wherever the infamous pirate captain went, there was always someone willing to buy him a drink or two, if not to throw it in his face. However, the prospect of rum wasn’t the precise reason. It was certainly a benefit, though. He was more than wiling to go anywhere the rum was in high supply and safe from the clutches of one Elizabeth Turner.

Those who didn’t think it was the rum believed it to be the women. Ah, the endless supply of women who were at his disposal to tickle his fancy. And what a considerable fancy the mischievous captain had. Jack was notorious for his escapades with women, despite the outcome of said encounters. It was common knowledge that he knew how and when to turn on his equally infamous charm. But if it was known that Jack was suave with the women, to say the very least, then wouldn’t it make sense that he could swindle any woman into his bed, regardless of whether he was in Tortuga or not?

But if it wasn’t the sweet tasting rum or the eager women that made Jack return to the pirate port as often as he did, then what was it?

To be honest, Jack wasn’t quite sure himself. It was truly the only place he ever felt at home, save for at the helm of the Pearl. Seeing as how he hadn’t been in possession of the ship for the past ten years (which he was planning on fixing in a very short while), a vague sort of emptiness had built up inside of him that he knew only the bustling town of Tortuga (and numerous bottles of delicious rum and the gentle, sensual figure of a woman) could fill.

Besides, he hadn’t been to the port, much less set foot on land, in several months. As much as he loved the sea, there were times when even he, Jack Sparrow, needed a break. However, aside from filling the void that had begun to grow irritable around the edges, Jack had a plan. He always had a plan, that much was true, but this one. Oh, this one was extravagant. Perhaps one of his best yet, though that is quite a bill to top, considering all of the stunts he had pulled in the past. The thought made a small smile pull at the corners of his lips as he began to meander his way down the street that was all but bursting at the seams with activity.

As always, he would need help with his plan if he wanted it to go off as brilliantly as he wished it to. Jack could admit that a good plan wasn’t much of a plan at all without the proper help. And he knew just the man he could go to for said assistance. The only problem that one Joshamagee Gibbs was proving harder to track down than he had expected.

Knowing the man better than he knew himself, Jack had undergone the effort of inspecting all of the places in Tortuga which Gibbs usually haunted. Much to his chagrin, every time he questioned one of the barkeeps, he always ended up with the same answer. They hadn’t seen him around in quite a long time and why was he interested in the first place. Rather than answer any questions that were directed at him, Jack would bow his head in thanks and hurry out of the rowdy taverns before his presence was known. As anyone might expect from a dishonestly honest man like Jack Sparrow, he had more than a few debts that needed to be paid off.

At the moment, Jack was heading toward what would be his fourth tavern of the night. The previous night would’ve been more extensive, had a feisty redhead with a smart mouth and a light and easy skirt hadn’t crossed his path. Oh yes, she had been quite devilish indeed and it would have been a perfect night of shameless shagging, had Giselle and Scarlet not caught up with him and dealt him their seemingly routine slaps to the face. His cheek still smarted with the sharp sting of their palms; whores they may be, but strong they were.

The effort to distract himself from the truth wasn’t taking hold like he thought it would. He had been searching for the incredibly elusive Gibbs for nearly three nights now. If Jack didn’t find him tonight, he knew to expect the worst: either the pirate wasn’t at port or he was dead.

Something tightened in his throat at the latter thought. Gibbs, dead? The weight of the thought had not settled on his shoulders until then.

Jack was quick to shake his head to himself, mentally berating his line of thought. No, Gibbs could not be dead. He would’ve known if Gibbs was dead. He was Captain Jack Sparrow. He would know if one of his dearest friend’s candles had been snuffed. It was one of those gut instincts things and he was certain that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. No, Gibbs was very much alive, he just wasn’t in Tortuga.

The world left to be discovered might be shrinking, but the Caribbean was just as large as it always had been. Surely, Gibbs was in another port on another island, drinking rum by the pint and regaling his tall tales as always.

Yes, that was it. That had to be it.

With his mind made up as to what had happened to Joshamagee Gibbs, Jack continued on his way toward one of his favourite taverns, the Blushing Bride. Trudging up the slope toward the top of the hill was a familiar path to Jack. After all, if he hadn’t been to the tavern numerous times, he wouldn’t count it as his favourite, now would he?

There was absolutely nothing special about the Blushing Bride. It was boisterous and disorderly as any other tavern in Tortuga. The only reason why it was one of Jack’s favourites was because it was the only place in the pirate port where Giselle and Scarlet refused to step foot in. It hadn’t taken him long to find out that it was not the infamous reputation that kept them away, but rather the hard and dangerous pirates that hung about the place. The other taverns were populated with drunk merchant sailors who always paid money where money was due and wouldn’t harm a fly, unless their gun just happened to accidentally go off.

The crowd of the Blushing Bride was a different sort; the murderous and ruthless sort. The sort that no woman, despite her many male encounters, would dare venture too close to. At least not women like Giselle and Scarlet. Yes, they put an impressive amount of force behind a slap, but Jack knew it was because they’d both had so much practice on him rather than actual skill. After all, practice makes perfect.

Midway through his journey toward the Blushing Bride, something of interest caught Jack’s eye.

Or rather, someone.

She was an attractive woman, but not in the typical sort of way. There was nothing about her that stood out; her beauty, if that was even the appropriate word for the way she looked, was subtle at best. Her light brown hair had escaped its tight binding, falling around her face, clinging to her face and the back of her neck like a second skin. The little amount of skin that was bare was flushed a bright, almost an angry red, no doubt from a long day in the sun. Because such a meagre amount of her skin was exposed, Jack immediately dismissed her as a whore. Not to mention that no self respecting whore in Tortuga would wear such a plain, yet hideous brown dress as this woman was.

If she wasn’t a whore, then why did she spark his memory? Her face, though difficult to view from this far away, was familiar to him. It was not just her face that made his brain crackle with interest, either. It was the way she moved, the way she held herself. The woman’s shoulders were squared even though it was apparent she was under a great deal of stress. She seemed like the stuck up sort, so she couldn’t be a native of Tortuga. Even her posture was familiar!

But why was she so familiar to him? It was a baffling question and Jack was almost entirely sure if he had a pint of rum in front of him, he would remember. His interest was piqued now. Jack had no other choice, but to follow her until her memory returned to him. A feat which could take hours or mere minutes. If she was as interesting as he remembered her to be, then he would stick by her and perhaps attempt to woo her. If not, then he would continue about his previous engagement.

It didn’t take Jack long to discover that she didn’t have any particular destination. In fact, it was like she was lost, though she could navigate the streets far too well for that. She might not have been a native, but she had been to Tortuga before. That much was evident from the way she evaded certain streets and knew which taverns to avoid.

He followed the woman for nearly an hour. Most people would have picked up on the fact they were being followed and she most likely would have as well, if she was not so distracted. It wasn’t until she started walking up to strangers and began to gesture about wildly that he pieced it together. So she was looking for something - or to be much more precise, someone. She was one of those folks who gestured with their hands when they spoke, regardless of the tone of their voice. It was due to those flamboyant hand motions that his memory started to tickle once again.

Jack watched as she stomped away from another pirate, obviously infuriated that her search was not going as well as she expected it to. Though he had learned first hand that it is not always as easy as it looks when it comes to finding people in Tortuga.

She expelled a deep breath and did a very odd thing. She tilted her head back, exposing her very white throat, which contrasted against the red plane of her chest and collarbone greatly, and yelled the most curious thing,

“William Jackson Turner, where the bloody hell are you!”

He had heard that voice before. Had heard it shout the very same thing. Instantly, his memory came burning back to life and one name slammed against the front of his skull.

Rosalyn Rhodes.

The Turners’ nanny of sorts.

Oh yes, he knew who she was now. She had always possessed a very distinct shout and to hear her scream the name of her charge only brought back more memories of her, most of which were unpleasant, to say the very least.

Rosalyn Rhodes was the indignant, supercilious sort of woman. She voiced her opinion much too often and thought herself better than most. She would let people know when they were irritating her and not in a very nice way, either. Her voice wasn’t nasal or shrill, but it had a way of making it feel as though your ears were bleeding. It wasn’t a dull drone, but it wasn’t the sort of voice that one would want to hear for the rest of eternity. She was always complaining about something and when she wasn’t complaining, she was acting superior. And when she wasn’t acting superior. . .well, he wasn’t exactly sure how she acted.

Jack had only met her a handful of times over the past eleven years. He could still remember their first encounter and the way she had recoiled when he held out his hand for her to shake. At first, he thought it was because she was holding a small infant in her arms, not that she repulsed by the dirt under his fingernails and the blood caked on the cuff of his shirt. Of course, it wasn’t until Jack had overheard Rosalyn complaining to Elizabeth that she didn’t like him, that she thought him the bad sort. A rotten egg, she had said. Aside from exchanging their names, Rosalyn hadn’t talked to the pirate captain for the rest of the time he stayed with Elizabeth and young William, which was three days, though he did catch her looking at him.

The second time he had run into Rosalyn, Liam was nearly five years old. Jack was startled how much he had come to look like his father. He was also surprised to see how Liam clung to Rosalyn, like she was a precious gem to be guarded. Though Rosalyn was acting more like a guard to the small boy than he was. When he inquired where Elizabeth was, Rosalyn answered that she’d left three days previous to get some supplies from a merchant vessel. At her words, Liam began to cry softly into the folds of her skirt, which spurred her into action. She scooped him up in her arms and began to sing to the boy a very familiar song. However, when he joined in the chorus, Rosalyn sent him a harsh look and stalked toward the house.

When Elizabeth returned four days later, she was shocked to see that either was still alive. She had not expected Jack to visit, but she knew how they disliked each other. Or rather how Rosalyn hated Jack for no particular reason at all, save for the fact he was a pirate. She had interrupted a shouting match which left them both red in the fact. It didn’t take Elizabeth long to connect the large bruise forming on Jack’s forehead and the dented copper pot that hung limp at Rosalyn’s side to the start of the argument.

The third encounter had happened a little less than three years ago. Though Jack had made several trips to the island which Elizabeth and Liam inhabited, he noted that when he did come around that Rosalyn made a point of leaving. She wouldn’t return until he left, Elizabeth had said, she went to a spare cottage that was meant for their supply. He’d laughed at the idea that she would rather sleep in a damp supply lean-to than be in his presence.

However, on the third encounter, Rosalyn was the civil one. She had shaken his hand and muttered a hello. He was shocked, to say the very least, but she didn’t make a point of keeping up with the conversation had by Jack and Elizabeth and, not all that surprising, Liam. The little boy inherited his parents’ taste for adventure and sat, enthralled, while he listened to Jack’s tales, regardless of how ridiculous they seemed. It was that day Liam elected Jack Sparrow as his hero and began to talk like a pirate. Or at least, attempt to talk like a pirate. It never really worked, not since Elizabeth and Rosalyn had raised him to speak like a proper young man.

The last encounter had been the worst. He had shown up unexpectedly as always, though he was expecting to see William Turner, his good friend, back on land for the rest of time. However, Jack quickly learned that Will and Elizabeth were away on “pirate business”, though he had no idea what they were up to. Pirate business? And they weren’t including him. He tried not to be hurt as Liam hurriedly ushered him inside the house which, Jack noted, possessed a much warmer feeling than it had in the past. Perhaps it was due to Will’s return?

Rosalyn tried to be civil; really she did, but that morning when she woke up and found the house to be empty, she screamed. Even from where they were having their adventure, Liam and Jack could hear her loud shrieks, her promises to slaughter him, Jack, by tearing him from limb to bloody limb. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to go so blue in the face, yet still be capable of speech. She had all but thrown him out of the house, ranting and raving at him the entire along the lines of “what would’ve I have done if this. . .” and “what would I have to say to the Turners’ if they came and their son was. . .” Personally, he wasn’t listening and she had been well aware of that. She kicked him where it counted as she all but pushed him into the ocean.

And now it seemed that Rosalyn Rhodes’ fear had finally come true. She had lost young William Turner. In Tortuga, no less.

A satisfied smile quirked at his lips. Oh yes, karma was sweet.

That was someone got when they kicked Captain Jack Sparrow in the goods. No one dared to not go easy on the goods. Save for that spitfire of a redhead last night. . .she would’ve been good. He knew that.

As pleased at the idea of Rosalyn’s worst fear coming true as Jack was, a small wave of anxiety rippled through his stomach. If her fear had come true, that meant Liam was lost in Tortuga, which was no place for a child, especially not such a young one like him. He was probably scared out of his mind, trembling amongst the drunken pirates and all-too easy whores. Good God, he could only imagine what sort of horrors the small boy would see. He had been shocked when he had come to the pirate port the first time as a young adult male. But a child. . .?

Suddenly, it wasn’t so funny anymore.

Suddenly, it was personal. He might not favour Rosalyn and would rather see the Turners realise that she was nowhere near as pleasant and trustworthy as she appeared, but this was Liam. For Christ sake’s, the boy had even been given a middle name derived from his own. Obviously, he had some influence in their lives, just like they had influence on him.

Suddenly, Jack realised that his own plans were to be momentarily forgotten.

Suddenly, his plan to find Joshamagee Gibbs wasn’t so important. Now, it was finding Liam Turner.