Sorry for the very long delay in updating, everyone. We've just gotten the group of writers back together and this should hopefully start humming along nicely! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!

Penny - written February 16, 2005
Kit looked at the room and it's one and only bed, then looked up at Keiran Wallace with a scowl on his face. "I dinna think so!" The kid glared at the bed again, watching the tall young man walk over and sit down on the thin, sagging, threadbare mattress of goose feathers. Kit's laughter filled the room when he gave a yelp and almost fell through the strapping that held the frame together.

"Ah dinna think i' be tha' damned funny, Pup!" came the growled reply, as he tried to pull himself back up.

"Then tis cause you're not lookin' at it from where I be standin', yer Nibs," the kid laughed.

"Gi'e us a hand, laddie," he snapped, slipping farther down, in the hole. When Kit backed away shaking his head, Wallace growled at him again. "Insolent pup! Ye wait! Yer turn be comin'! When Ah git 'ut o' this damned torture rack, see if ye dinna find tha toe o' me boot upside yer scrawny arse, ye wee heathen!"

Kit leaned against the door frame, grinning with his arms crossed over his small chest. "Twas not my idea tae share a room with ye, yer Nibs. My bunk twas just fine and I think I'll be goin' back to i' and leave ye to yer fine acomodations," he snickered, watching Wallace's head get lower and his feet get higher, as he steadily sunk farther down.

"Ye...canna stay a stable!" he ground out, fighting to pull himself up. "Ye heard Cap'n Sparrow, ye wee demon! Ye ar' tae stay here!"

"Ye are nae my father an' neither is he!" Kit snapped back. "I weel stay where I wan' and I weel not be sharin' a bed with the likes of ye, ye nasty bugger."

"Filthy mouthed ragamuffin!... Yer daft! Ah hae nae been a' sea tha' long! Ah be muir endanger o' catchin' fleas from tha likes o' ye, than ye ar' from me touchin' ye!" He floundered, helpless, trapped in the infernal bed. Not only was that wee heathen making accusations about his person, but was standing over there...somewhere, laughing at him. If he ever got loose, he was going to show the hellion, what it meant to open his mouth and try to talk with Wallace's fist in it.

The strappings that held the frame together creaked ominously, causing him to frown and wonder what new hell awaited him, when it suddenly gave a loud pop and snapped, slamming his backside onto the floor beneath it. "Wha' tha heel!" He pulled his knees to his chest and hit the plank with the soles of his boots, busting the plank that had held him captive, with a sharp crack, and splitting the wood in two.

He wasn't sure which was more annoying. The infernal contraption that some idgit of a sassenach had the gall to tell everyone was a bed or that wee pain in the arse, that laughed like a jackass. He frowned then, looking around the room when he didn't hear anything and found he was the only one there. Cussing, he shoved himself to his feet and stormed from the room.

The breeze coming off the water, caused Kit to yawn. If that pompous ass had left well enough alone, Kit would have been snuggled in the blankets in the loft of the stable by now, instead of wandering through the streets of Tortuga at this time of the night. Well, it wasn't much farther to the stable, Kit thought, walking along and keeping an eye on the shadows. It wouldn't do to get snatched by a work crew and get shanghaied now, of all times.

A fine fog had begun to creep in from the bay, wrapping it's ethereal fingers around everything it touched, while it hugged the ground. There was something about a night like this that made the fine hairs stand on the back of the kid's neck. A sound up ahead, caused the kid to stop in mid step and stare into the darkness. It was ahead, wasn't it? Or was it in the back. Frowning, Kit moved silently. All senses tingled, telling the kid to be aware.

"Bloody damned Scotchman," came the whispered curse. "Mayhap someone will tie an anchor to his arse and drop him over the side." Behind Kit something clattered on the stones, causing the kid to jump and swing around, as a small hand went to the dagger. Again, Kit saw nothing. "Damned Scotchman," the kid cursed again. It was his fault Kit was out here in the first place. Him and Sparrow's.

Kit thought back on the conversation between the two of them as they seemed to gang up against the kid.

"Tell me ye both be lookin' fer work," Sparrow said after a few minutes. "Tis not everyday that two lads with skills such as yerselves jump into a fight that not be yers. If ye both need work, ye have yerselves a place onboard the Black Pearl."

The woman gave him an incredulous look. "You can't be serious!" she said staring at the younger of the two. "He's just a child!"

"Don't worry yerself, Missy. That child, as you call him will be well taken care of. So what do you say, Lads? Do you want to sail with Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Kit gave a slow smile that spread across his face. "Aye, Cap'n. I do."

The Highlander nodded next to him, keeping one eye on Kit and the other on Sparrow. "Aye. Ah weel sign on wi' ye, Cap'n. Mah name be Keiran Wallace."

"And you, Lad. Yer name?" Sparrow asked, trying to ignore the look that Wallace kept giving the boy.

"Kit. Kit Kilkenny," he said flatly.

"A Scotchman and an Irishman," Sparrow mumbled still watching the two of them. "It should be an interesting trip all around."

Then he'd asked if either of them had quarters. "Aye Cap'n. Ah be stayin' a' tha Boar's Head Inn," Mister Pompous Arse had grinned with his homely mug hangin' out.

"And ye lad? Where are ye quartered?" Sparrow had wanted to know.

Kit realized too late that right then and there, a lie would have been sufficient. "I be stayin' in the stable down by the dock, Cap'n."

Sparrow had tossed that pompous arse a coin and told him to take Kit with him and settle in, that way, when he wanted them, he'd know where to find them. So that arrogant, fat heided Scotchman had almost pushed him out the door of the tavern and down the street.

Kit wasn't really sure who was more shocked by that bugger's announcement that they could share a room. The woman that stood sputtering next to Sparrow or Kit. The kid could still hear her. "You can't possibly expect that child to share a room with a man you hardly know!" Kit had almost laughed out loud at the expression on the woman's face. Almost...that is, until Kit took a real good look at Wallace standing there grinning like a rat eatin' bilge.

They'd probably all still be standing there if Captain Sparrow hadn't given Wallace a strange look and cleared his throat. Kit had the feeling he was rethinking the logic in sharing a room, but they never found out, for Wallace had already begun to shove Kit out the tavern door...

Now here Kit was, walking down one of a hundred narrow alley's, in the most notorious den of iniquity, in the West Indies. Not twenty minutes later, Kit saw the stable come into view and gave a sigh of relief. Whatever the noise had been earlier, it stayed where it was and that suited Kit just fine. It was more than likely a rat looking for food scraps the kid reasoned, pulling open the stable door and quietly slipped inside. Pulling the door shut to all but an inch, Kit looked back out to make sure no one had followed, incase, by chance it wasn't a rat.

Giving a sigh of relief, the kid pulled the door shut, then started to turn, when hands snaked out from the darkness and Kit drove home a well placed knee into the most vulnerable place known to man. Kit smiled, hearing a satisfied grunt and a groan and hurriedly jumped back to get a look at the attacker, that now withered on the stable floor.

"OCH! Wha' tha heel maggot gae in tae yer brain, ye wee heathen!" came the groan. "Ye busted mah puir ghullies!"

Kit roared in laughter at the familiar voice. "Why yer Nibs! Fancy meetin' ye here!"