Disclaimer:  Sadly, I do not own these characters... Disney does.  ~_~

I gave Gibbs the first name "Charles" just because I needed something on the fly.

Huge thanks to my beta-readers, Julie (JE Zison) and Elysse!  The next chapter will get really interesting with the addition of a new character or two.  Reviews would be greatly appreciated... please let me know what you like or dislike about the story, and whether or not I should continue it.

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Chapter Two:  Jack and Gibbs' Bogus Journey

Gibbs was already regretting his decision as soon as the words "aye, cap'n!" had escaped from his lips. He didn't like the idea of wandering through a tiny, empty village… one that simply must be haunted. But at the same time, he had been through worse situations with the Captain, and he had to hand it to the man… no one could sniff out a store of rum faster than Jack Sparrow.

Anamaria had stormed back to the Pearl with the rest of the crew in tow. "Don't ye worry about a mutiny?" Gibbs grumbled as the two watched the crew board one rowboat and head off toward the ship. Jack merely grinned.

"Of course, Gibbs," he said, and raised one hand to give Anamaria a little wave goodbye. The woman held Jack's eyes briefly, sneering in disgust, then ordered the men to put their backs into the rowing. "But Anamaria won't leave, I can promise ye that."

Gibbs was unconvinced. "I wouldn't be so sure 'ah that, were I you!"

Jack turned on his heels and guided his first mate along beside him, leaning heavily on Gibbs' shoulder. "Well, perhaps ye need a few lessons on how ta handle a woman, mate…."

"I can handle my women without yer assistance, Jack!" Gibbs snorted, his face scrunched into a peculiar expression that could only be disgust or insult (it was hard to tell with Gibbs – the man always looked distraught over something).

The Captain only grinned wider, as if this was just the response he'd been expecting. "Certainly, of course!" Jack exclaimed, waving Gibbs' indignation away with one swish of a ring-covered hand. "Women are rather like tha ocean, wouldn't ye say? Usually stormy, tumultuous, unpredictable…."

"Cold," muttered Gibbs.

"Aye, cold!" Jack continued merrily. "Just as tha slightest breeze can change tha waves of tha sea… tha same is true of a woman's fancy. Why, just during our last stop in Tortuga, I met this dame who –"

"Beggin' yer pardon Jack – Cap'n – but what's this got ta do with Anamaria?"

Jack swung his hands out to his sides, looking flustered. "She's a woman, ye scallywag!"

Gibbs' frown deepened. "Yar, but Jack… she's also a pirate, aye? Ye shouldn't think of her as just some skirt to be bedded. The lass has a mind of 'er own, and she don't need a man to tell 'er what to do. I seen that first-hand, so I 'ave!"

"I think," Jack continued without pause, "Anamaria simply hasn't realized that she needs a man in 'er life."

Gibbs blanched and stared at Jack as if his Captain had suddenly sprouted an extra set of eyeballs. "I dunno what's worse… havin' a woman on board as crew, or havin' a Captain who thinks he can tame every woman he sees!"

"You mean a Captain who knows he can," Jack retorted, smirking. "Jealous, mate?"

Gibbs snorted in exasperation. He might've continued the odd conversation… but Charles Gibbs was a man easily distracted by anything out of the ordinary. And by the time the two pirates had reached the end of the pier and turned their attention to their surroundings, it was becoming obvious that their little foray into Delaney was going to be anything but ordinary.

Gibbs planted his feet firmly on the final plank of the pier while Jack swaggered on ahead, oblivious to the fact that his first mate had turned as white as a china doll and was about three breaths away from collapsing where he stood.

Fortunately, with one of his three remaining breaths, Gibbs managed to blurt: "JACK!"

Jack spun around, looking curious but otherwise unalarmed, and followed his crewmate's gaze. A few feet away was a wide piece of wood that may have one time been a wall for some little shack along the shoreline. It had been propped up next to a tree, and was now serving as a makeshift welcome sign for anyone daring to step beyond the Delaney dock. Written in some sort of black paint were the words:

THe BLaK PeRL

Below which, someone had smeared a crude skull-and-crossbones design. It grinned at Jack and Gibbs from behind a thin curtain of weeds.

Jack knelt down beside the sign and traced over the letters with his fingertips. Much of it flaked off, sticking to his hands or fluttering down to the ground.

"Blood… old blood," Sparrow murmured. There was no surprise in his voice.

"Cap'n!" Gibbs hissed, still not moving from the edge of the pier. "Foul work's been done here, and if ye ask me, we should have no part in it!"

"I didn't ask ye, Gibbs," Jack replied without looking up. "But yes, I s'pose if I had, ye would've said somethin' just like that."

"Just what is it yer hopin' to find 'ere, Jack Sparrow?"

Something in his first mate's voice made Jack turn and face him. The Captain shrugged at Gibbs; as he did so, his eyes we drawn beyond the man standing in front of him, to the faint glint of foaming breakers against the shoreline. When the sea whispered something to Jack Sparrow, he had no choice but to provide it with his full attention.

"'Ave ye ever sailed someplace without knowin' where yer headed, mate?"

Gibbs arched one bushy eyebrow. "I don't quite follow ye."

"'Ave ye ever just let the sea take ye where'er she pleases? 'Ave ye ever felt inclined to sail in one direction fer days an' days, just ta see what awaits ye over tha next swell in tha waves?"

"'E's really off his rocker now," Gibbs thought, but after a moment longer he realized that he knew full well what Jack meant. It was the raw power of the open ocean, the spray, the building storms, the thick sunlight that was every sailor's ambrosia. Wanderlust held every pirate's sense of reason hostage – it made sure that they endured through the harshest of climates and continually came back for more. The sea was a pirate's life, just as it would inevitably be their death. Jack welcomed this knowledge, just as Gibbs could not deny it.

Jack focused on his first mate again, and he saw the look of recognition in his eyes. "The sea brought us 'ere, along this path of ghosts… so let's see what the old girl has in store for us, hmm?"

Gibbs drew his cutlass and stepped off the pier. Without further conversation, the two moved away from the reassuring drone of the ocean and toward the village proper. Jack sauntered along at a relaxed pace. He had no weapon drawn… but one hand lingered near the pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

The silence that greeted them as they followed the overgrown trail was nearly overwhelming. Twice Gibbs caught himself jumping as a twig or rock shifted under their feet. And when Jack finally spoke again in a low tone, Gibbs was certain that his heart was going to spring up from his throat and land with a messy splat at his feet.

"That old fellow we met at tha dock certainly pulled a bloody good disappearing act, wouldn't ye say?"

"Y-yar," Gibbs stammered, then swallowed his heart back down and hoped it would settle into the proper position again.

"And I would bet me boots," Jack continued smoothly, "that we saw lights – real lights - from tha village when we were still on board tha Pearl."

Not far ahead loomed the small island haven known as Delaney. Only instead of being lit by the usual lamplights that greeted guests to most every township in the Caribbean, the winding trail ahead seemed to glow with a strange, white light. The buildings themselves were dark and hulking stone things… almost all of which seemed to be in a sad state of disrepair.

Jack pushed on ahead and Gibbs followed with great reluctance. They skirted around the first small homes, all crudely built things made of mud and rock. The roofs were missing. Wooden doors and fragments of glass littered the trail. And scorch marks were visible on everything: the ground, the rock walls, the shattered planks of wood, the human skeletons…

"Mary Mother 'uh God!" Gibbs exclaimed as he tripped over one said skeleton. There was a whole pile of them in the middle of the path, creating the notion that quite a few people had been running for their lives at one point in time… only to be struck down in one fell swoop by whatever had been pursuing them.

"Run an' ye only die tired," Jack mumbled, giving one of the skulls a little kick with his boot.

The two pirates turned their attention then to the rest of Delaney's remains. The place had been ransacked and burned from top to bottom, that much was apparent. The empty husks of taller buildings – perhaps one time there had been a few shops here – now resembled little more than gravestones. While both Jack and Gibbs were no strangers to the sight of a ravaged town, it was plain to see that this little village had never had a chance for survival. Not after Barbossa and his men. Not after the Pearl….

Gibbs was still trying to make sense of it all as the Captain took a step forward and cupped his hands near his mouth. "HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Jack called, and his voice rebounded from stone to broken stone before fading entirely into the gloom.

"GAH!" Gibbs jerked forward, one hand clutching his cutlass and the other his chest, right above his heart. "BLAST IT, Cap'n… give a man a bit of warnin' before ye go shriekin' ta raise tha dead!"

Jack chuckled. "Calm down, Gibbs… this place is empty – an' has been for quite some time, by tha look of things."

"So now what?" Gibbs growled. His good humor (if one could call his humor good to begin with) was beginning to run short. "There's nothin' fer us here. Back to tha Pearl then, aye?"

"Mister Gibbs, I shan't return to my crew without tha rum I've promised 'em! And furthermore… it would seem a pity to leave without givin' Delaney a good once-over. Who knows… perhaps we may find somethin' here still of value!"

Jack Sparrow had that look in his eyes… that gleam that could only mean one thing: trouble. Gibbs groaned inwardly.

"C'mon, mate," Jack persisted. "Aren't ye curious in tha least?"

"Not nearly much as you, Jack."

Sparrow shrugged. "Alright then. But surely ye won't mind standin' right here" -- he pointed down at the ground between them – "and guarding me back while I have a little looksie around. Savvy?"

Gibbs wasn't sure which prospect was worse… standing guard by himself on the outskirts of a ransacked-and-probably-haunted village, or stepping right into the graveyard and helping himself to all the shiny trinkets that may have been left on the corpses.

But Gibbs also knew an order from the Mad Captain Jack Sparrow when he heard one.

"Aye Jack," he said at last, looking grim but determined. "Ye know ye can trust me as watch. But ye better hurry up!"

Jack grinned, gave his first mate a flamboyant little bow, turned on his heels, and continued down the trail where the skeletal remains of buildings and bodies waited.

~*~*~

It was only a minute or two after he had lost sight of Jack that Gibbs heard a soft rustling in the thick brush behind him.

He jerked around – eyes wide, heart pounding and blade at the ready – and saw a shadowed figure moving through the bushes toward him….

~*~*~

Jack felt greatly relieved that Gibbs had agreed to stay behind during this leg of their little adventure. If there were any living beings left in Delaney, they could've heard the first mate's stomping and grumbling from leagues away… if the smell of him didn't betray their location first.

"Besides," Jack Sparrow mused, "finding a treasure all by oneself is always such an… enriching experience!"

The pirate chuckled to himself. That was one joke that never got old.

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