Penny ~ April 1, 2004 (continued)

Kit's hand went to his dagger pulling it deftly from its sheath and moved in as the lankier of the three, pulled a dagger ready to toss it at Sparrow's back. The dagger hit its mark and the pirate fell backward, Kit's dagger buried to the hilt in his chest. Sparrow's head snapped up, looking behind him when the woman gasped, while patrons of the tavern scooted back away from the tables to stay out of the coming fight. The pirate's two mates didn't look pleased when they looked from their dead comrade, to the kid that had sent him to meet his maker.

The kid shrugged at them sheepishly. "I didn't like the odds," he smirked. "Three against one..." He put up a finger, tsk, tsking them as he clucked his tongue. "Shame on ya. Did yer mothers not teach ya any better than that? Tryin' to sneak up on a man in a crowded tavern. Ya should be ashamed of yerselves." Kit caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spotted the young man moving closer. "Stay where ya are, least ya join that fool friend of yours on the floor!" he warned.

"Tha' trosk be nae friend o' mine, Laddie," he answered with a quiet Highland brogue. "Ah dinna classify mahself wi' the likes o' tha' trash. Only a dog wuid stick a dirk in a mon's back!" Slowly he pulled his own sword, a claymore by the look of it, Kit thought, from the sheath over his shoulder.

"Did I ask fer yer help? A ‘Cause I don't seem tae remember my mouth movin'," Kit snapped back, watching the two that looked ready to charge them anytime. When the young man laughed next to him, it made him angry, and he almost didn't get his scimitar up in time to block the large, burly pirate that had grabbed the woman, earlier. Steel clashed in the tavern as tables were knocked over, and patrons scrambled like scared mice, to move out of the way. The larger pirate had the benefit of experience, but Kit was young and strong and as small as he was, as he was wiry, dodging and ducking the other's blows, while he played a deadly game of cat and mouse with the man.

The Highlander was skillful, giving kind for kind, for every blow the other pirate dealt him. Better than his mate, Kit saw he offered the young man less of a challenge than the one Kit fought, who now was slowly, methodically backing him into a corner. Kit was hard pressed to find an opening, but the pirate, sneered and left himself wide open when he raised his sword to hit Kit with a killing blow. He stood there for a second, the moment frozen in time after his sword had come arcing down at the kid. Kit watched the light drain from his eyes and heard a wet gurgle on his lips, when the pirate's sword clattered to the stone floor and he followed, while Kit pulled his blade from his ribs.

Kit stared down at the body that lay crumpled in a heap and slowly wiped the scimitar’s blade on the dead man's clothes, cleaning off the blood. Only after, did he notice the Highlander had dispatched his opponent and was now watching him closely. They eyed each other, sizing the other up, much as an opponent would do with an enemy. Kit raised the scimitar again and seemed to test the weight of it, then gave a couple of practice swings, knowing that not only the Highlander was watching, but Sparrow as well.. Next Kit placed the tip of the blade point down in the palm of his hand, balancing it upright and quickly pushed upward, flipping it end, over end, over end and caught it by the hilt in it's downward descent. The kid looked up, giving them a smug look and shrugged. Then had the gall to do it again with the opposite hand.

""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."

Laura McFly ~ June 17, 2004
(AN: OK, I wasn’t sure whether the first two parts of the story took place at night or in the day, but this is meant to be the morning after the scene in the tavern…)

The sun was creeping over the horizon in Port Royal. Every tavern window was darkened; the last of the revelers had returned to their ships long before. Not a sound could be heard in the cobbled streets, nor down on the docks where all matter of crafts bobbed on the ocean like slumbering water birds. All the town was deep in dreams…all save one.

Nobody noticed the tall, thin figure creeping forth from the old blacksmith’s workshop window. He dropped onto the street, landing as lightly as a cat, and then rose slowly. A sliver of moon slipped out from behind its cloak of cloud, casting shadows on his face. Suddenly the young man looked years older. He had a lean, almost hungry-looking face, with a thin fuzz of black hair over the upper lip. Slightly greasy dark curls hung down between his shoulder blades, roped back with a worn piece of cloth. His clothes were perfectly ordinary by Port Royal’s standards; a dirty white shirt beneath a brown tunic and trousers. By all accounts he was a typical resident of the city, unremarkable in any particular way. But it was his eyes that drew people to his quick, clever face; the deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce into a man’s very soul.

He stood listening for a second, waiting for any slight noise, but none came. Then wordlessly he slipped into a back alley, vanishing almost instantly amongst the slimy black walls. He had lived in this city ever since the death of his mother, and he knew the short cuts to every house and tavern there. But that was as far as he went with adventures now. He’d had quite enough of that last summer, when that crazy pirate turned up claiming he was going after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta and he’d taken off with him to find it. That foolhardy venture had almost cost him the thing he loved most in all the world. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. The only thing he regretted about the journey was his apparent poverty now, especially since he had a wedding to prepare for; a large pile of pirate gold would have come in very handy.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the memory of that voyage. Chasing off after pirate ships was not the sort of thing a respectable young gentleman – or at least a young man masquerading as a respectable one – should be thinking about. He wouldn’t chance losing her to the likes of Norrington. But sometimes in his dreams the old fire for adventure was re-awoken within him. He longed for the spray of sea water on his face, the wind whipping through his lank hair. When he was a child and had been obsessed with the ships in the local harbor, he remembered his mother saying that he was definitely his father’s son. At the time he had been too young to understand what that meant. Now he knew the truth.

~*~*~*~*~

Tap, tap, tap.

Elizabeth Swan’s dark eyes snapped open. She lay rigid beneath the blankets, breathing heavily as her gaze darted about the chamber. Who was there? Her instinct was to call out, but something seemed to prevent her voice forming coherent words. It seemed like an age before the noise came again. Tap, tap, tap – more persistent this time. She rose from her bed slowly, crossing the wooden floor which creaked dangerously beneath her weight. Her breath caught in her throat as she listened for the sound of disturbance in the house. Tentatively she approached the window and threw it open.

Heavy raindrops pelted the bedroom floor as she looked out into the storm. It was the thick of the wet season in the Caribbean and these morning torrents of water were no longer unusual to her. Her light brown hair dripped down her back, plastered to her skin in rat’s tail-ringlets. It was some seconds before she saw him, clinging to the wall beside the window for dear life. He held out his hand to her, unable to speak; but words weren’t really necessary for them. She grabbed his thin wrist and pulled him towards the window. The noise he made trying to get into the room from the sill could have woken the dead, but it was drowned out by her father’s rumbling snores in the next bedroom.

Elizabeth slammed the window shut and turned to the sopping wet Will, who was panting heavily. Without speaking she threw her arms around him in a passionate embrace and kissed him, softly at first, then more fiercely, as though he were a sickness and its cure together. She seemed to crave him like a starving man craves food. They must have been locked together for a full minute before parting. She pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"Bloody pirates," she said finally, staring out of the window onto the docks. Will approached her side and looked out towards the sea. In an arch in the rock swung three skeletons, creaking in the wind as the storm mutilated their rag-clad bones. "They just don’t know what’s good for them sometimes." She turned away and began to neaten the bed, trying to avoid Will’s eyes for some reason.

"Don’t worry," Will said in what he hoped was comforting tones. "I wouldn’t go back to that life if I was promised all the gold in the world. I only want you." He turned away, unsure whether what he had said had been too forward. Elizabeth smiled softly.

"I’m not asking you to give anything up," she said quietly. "If you want to be a pirate again, I wouldn’t blame you. It’s in your blood, after all." Her voice sounded strangely cold and choked. Will walked towards her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"No," he said. "It’s not worth taking any more chances. I haven’t got time for any more wild adventures; if I can’t keep my old job at the blacksmith’s, how on Earth are we ever going to be able to get married?"

"We’ll find a way," Elizabeth said. "We always do." But part of her wondered if she really believed that any more. They’d been saying that to one another ever since her father had given his reluctant consent to the match – but that was almost a year ago now. Many other young women of similar age and status were already on the arm of high-ranking Navy officials, and several of those had children on the way. She turned to look up at Will, her eyes huge. He leaned down towards her. Their lips were just about to meet when…

Thump, thump, thump! "Elizabeth! Are you decent?"

Will and Elizabeth flew apart instantly. "Quick! Hide!" Elizabeth whispered. She glanced around wildly for somewhere to hide Will before her father and the maids came in. "Give me a few minutes!" she shouted to the door. The wardrobe was no use; when the maids went to gather her things he would be revealed instantly, and she couldn’t possibly make him go back to holding on to the wall. The only place left was…

Will only had to look at her to know what she was thinking. He shinnied up the wooden pole of the four-poster and onto the canopy. Elizabeth grabbed the hanging curtain at the side and threw it up to him. She was about to open the door when she realized her hair was still wet. Oh well, it was too late now.

The maids bustled in, clucking over her, whilst her father followed. In his hands he held a large box that Elizabeth instantly knew contained a dress. "You are spoiling me recently, Father," she said. "Three new dresses in as many weeks! May I enquire as to the occasion?"

"I have arranged a surprise for you, my dear," said Governor Swan as he crossed to the bed. Will pulled the curtain further over himself, hoping that the governor wouldn’t look up. There was a slight silence, and then Swan spoke again. "Hurry up and dress, then I will tell you all about it." He smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth, who was being laced into her corsets, could only nod in reply. She waited until the maids had left and then crossed to the bed. Will was about to sit up when Swan knocked again. He ducked down and hid beneath the blanket, then moved a corner slightly so he could see what was going on.

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