A/N: Sorry for the looooong delay. Much love to you!
James pulled his royal blue jacket tighter around his body and adjusted his wig. The wind was blowing hard. He quickened his pace towards the heart of town. He was growing antsier with each clicking step on the cobbled street. He sighed in relief as he spotted the familiar sign dancing with the wind. As he approached the front entrance, he spotted a shadow behind the wooden statue beside the shop. His peripheral vision and subconscious kept a keen eye as he knocked on the doors of the candlelit building. He knew the man kept house there and it was after hours, so knocking was only courteous. As he waited for his call to be answered, he noted a movement from the dark shape. He turned his head quickly, wincing as it cricked.
The dark figure, almost inaudibly, drawled something queer. "Take heed. The path you are choosing may not bring the results you desire."
James took a moment to take in what he assumed he just heard. Believing his ears of trickery, he asked, "pardon?"
She, or so James understood, stepped into the dim light shining from the window of the store which she hid next to. Suddenly, what she said wasn't nearly as odd as how she looked. Trinkets adorned her light hair, in almost the same manner as Sparrow. Her clothes were unusually colorful and her skirt was patterned with pictures depicting grotesque and erotic scenes. She wore a disgustingly tight bodice and James's eye lingered but a moment on her protruding breasts. Her exposed, pale skin was tattooed with symbols that James did not recognize and her eyes were of the brightest blue.
"I said to use caution. The path you are choosing may not bring the results you wish."
"Madame, are you ill?" James asked, timidly. He was not sure how to respond to her statements.
"You are planning a journey?" She asked as she subconsciously traced the tattoos on her arms.
"I haven't the slightest clue what-"
"Do not lie." She drawled as she exposed her brown teeth in a tauntingly, crude smile. "I know what you are up to, Commodore. You seek the sword-maker. You eyed the ships. Your love left you for a freer life. But, if you go searching the seas, you may not find what you seek. A storm is building in the land that lacks propriety. A storm which may lead to your end. But remember, James, there are things worse than death. The end which lies ahead, if you wake this man, is far, far worse than death."
Her smile never left her face and James was growing more nervous and enthralled with every word she spoke.
"A fortuneteller? A certain risk you have taken to expose yourself to a man of law. Witchery is not tolerated in Port Royal and many have hanged because of it. Tell me, are you really telling the future or is it simple speculation? Have you been spying on the Commodore of the Navy? Are you living a life of meaning and nobility, vicariously, through me?"
Her smile faded and James suddenly regretted his boldness and poor choice in words.
"So many questions not concerning yourself. Have you heard nothing I have said?"
"I heard every word," James said, smugly.
"And you dare to speak in that manner? After I risked my life for yours? You think I not know what fate lies ahead for those who talk of predictions? But, James, I see the futures of those I can help. And your vision, such a sad one at that, came to me as I watched you gaze out to the sea. As a man of," her face twisted in disgust, "nobility, you are free to act and think as you please. I warn you to not forget the words granted to you. If you disregard them, you will surely end up alone with nothing but feelings of shame, regret, and anger. If you continue, with ignorance, than your fate is sealed. And if you hold anger towards me, I will gladly take a noose to the neck in honor of those who have before me—those who reached out, as I have, to the faithless."
James's anger was boiling. "You know my fate as I know yours. Your appointment with the gallows will be made after I tend to the matters that I planned. That, my dear, is not fortunetelling, but fortune-making." James felt like a hormonal little boy as he took his wounded ego out on the witch. His gaze left her unusual body and watched his fist pound, once more, on the wooden door before him.
"You have made no future but your own. You have awoken the sword-maker and there will be no turning back. You will not find me. I will not hang and you will leave Port Royal." And with her final, frustrating, words spoken, she sank back into the shadow she came from.
James laughed. "You think I am daft?" James stepped away from the door and fixed his head behind the wooden man. His breath caught in his throat and his cocky smile subsided. She was gone. James rubbed his eyes and glared harder into the dark corner. It was eerily empty.
Her voice was in tune with the blowing wind, "she will come back to you, if you wait for her."
James jumped at her voice and bumped his head on the wooden arm. He rubbed the tender spot as he stood back in front of the door. "It was just a dream, James." To prove himself right, he pinched himself. He flinched at the unexpected pain. "Alright. It was a hallucination. A hallucination from lack of sleep." James adjusted his coat and laughed.
As he continued to convince himself, he knocked again. He heard the loud clanking of wood on metal as the door was being unlocked. Satisfaction and confidence swept over him.
A sleepy man stood in the doorway with surprise etched on his handsome face. "Commodore Norrington?"
James nodded, "William Turner."
"What in the blazes do you want?" Will's grudge was evident in his tone. Regardless, he stepped aside, gesturing an invitation for James to enter.
"I have a proposition for you; one that will lead to some much needed redemption." James spoke with pride as he stepped over the threshold.
Ally's father stared intently at the land they were approaching. Ally stood beside him looking in the same direction, but not at all focusing on what was before her. Her mind was on something else, something that had been bothering her for many nights.
Ally cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I do not wish to go there, Dad."
"But Tortuga is a jolly-good time, love," he stated as his gaze never left the docks of Tortuga.
"You know what I mean," Ally spat. She harbored much anger towards him because of his avoidance of her feelings.
"Can't be avoided. Either you come, or you don't," he turned, looked her in the eyes for but a moment, and left her side to be by his son's.
"I don't, then," Ally whispered to herself. She would not be getting back onto the ship when they left the following night.
Jonathan was the first to walk off of the ship and onto the dock. He could not wait to meet with the man that had, or so he said in the letter, 'life-altering information'. He practically ran to the bar as stated in the man's script. He was so excited, in fact, that he did not realize a certain someone tracing his steps in a very subtle way.
Ally was still very skeptical of Jonathan. So, when she spotted him practically shoving Gibbs out of the way to get off of the ship, she was convinced that he was up to no good. She followed her instincts and trailed behind him.
He entered one of the many bars and taverns in Tortuga. Ally waited a moment, and entered after him. She went straight for the bar and delicately searched for Jonathan.
"What'll it be, Missy?" Spat a sloppy bartender with no teeth.
"Nothing thanks." By the look given by the bartender, it was not appreciated. Ally figured she ought to order something so as not to look too conspicuous. "Rum, please."
Not two seconds later did the man slam down the pint in front of her, the brown liquid swishing all over the bar-top. Ally forced a smile, placed a shilling down, and muttered her thanks as she looked over her shoulder at the couple in the back of the tavern. She spotted a table- closer to the two men- hidden in the shadows of the opposite corner. She slowly made her way over and quietly rested her cup down as she gently pulled out the heavy, wooden chair. She sat down, her eyes never leaving Jonathan.
"Would you like a drink?" The man beside Jonathan asked. Ally noted how he tried very hard to fit in with those that resided in Tortuga. He was dirty but underneath the filth, Ally noted, were very new clothes. He also had all of his teeth. And by the looks he was getting from the other patrons, they noted how sketchy he looked also.
"Stop wasting my time and tell me already! I can not be here long; the others will realize I am gone." Jonathan throatily whispered.
"Careful, Edwards. Without what I have, you will remain a fugitive."
"I am not so sure you even have anything anymore, Eric. Not by the way you are procrastinating." He spat at the man.
"Do not call me by that name!" Eric whispered, huskily.
Ally leaned a little closer to the direction of their conversation. It was very straining trying to hear every word muttered between them.
Jonathan sent daggers across the table towards Eric. "Tell me what I need and let's be done with it."
"Alright, alright." Eric looked around to see if anyone was listening. Ally quickly moved her body upright and back into the shadow. He did not spot her. "You reside in Port Royal, correct?"
"I did, yes." Jonathan responded.
"Than you know of Commodore James Norrington?"
Ally's jaw dropped and she listened even more intently.
"Yes, but only from behind iron bars," Jonathan whispered back. There was slight resentment in his voice.
"Well, what if I told you that I know a secret of his that could bring down the entire fleet of the Port Royal Navy?" Eric slowly smiled.
Jonathan sat further forward with anticipation. "Than I would give you forty percent of all riches I inherit from the damages it creates."
Eric smiled wider. "Excellent."
A/N: And that's all for now, folks!