Pirate, Extraordinaire // Sequel to Take Off Your Dress, Pick Up A Sword

a theft

Around noon, Joanna tired of watching Jack's futile and petty pursuit of Elizabeth -- he had cornered her at the stairs, prattling about marriage, of all things. Joanna attempted to retreat below decks, but her way was blocked by an unflagging former Commodore.

Joanna was short; James Norrington was tall. She despised men who towered over women to make a point. Glaring up at him, she said, "I'm nicer than Jack, so I won't ask you to shine my boots."

"Thank God for small mercies," he replied sarcastically. His eyes sharpened. "I've been wondering, Joanna, as to how Will ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place. I wonder if even you know."

Joanna almost took a step backward, shocked by his bold attempt at manipulation. "I do know," she practically growled. "And it's none of your damn business."

"Ah." Norrington's smile was mean. "I've heard what the men call you. Jack Sparrow's woman. Perhaps you had a hand in it."

Joanna flushed with shame and fury. "I lost an ear in it." It burned beneath its bandage; a reminder. She hissed, "You're lucky I'm nice, James, and that I used to think you were a good man."

Norrington's smirk vanished like smoke. "Better than the company you keep."

"Better than pigs," Joanna scoffed. She felt righteous; stepping (stomping) out of Norrington's path, she gestured impatiently. "Get out of my way."

Joanna stiffened as Norrington did the very opposite. He crowded into her space, sneering. "Careful who you call a pig. I'm sure thievery is taken as seriously on slovenly pirate ships as it is on Naval vessels."

With that, Norrington departed. His shoulder knocked roughly into hers as he went.

Jack Sparrow's woman. The very thought made Joanna's skin crawl. Taking deep breaths, she cupped a hand over her right ear. I've escaped that. I thought I escaped that.

The Letters of Marque burned a hole in Joanna's pocket. As she retreated into the belly of the ship, she pressed her hand against them, reassuring herself they remained secure. Joanna had stolen plenty in her tenure about the Black Pearl, but never from her shipmates and certainly never from her captain. Jack was bound to notice the pardon's absence eventually, and when he did, he'd have only a few directions to point a finger in. Considering the way their relationship -- or lack thereof -- burned hot-and-cold lately, Joanna suspected he would start immediately with her.

Joanna sighed, berating her impulsiveness. She was an idiot to take the Letters from Jack. She smiled wryly -- if she was lucky, Jack would be impressed by her boldness.

When Joanna reached her cabin, she shut and latched the door behind her. After a cursory, paranoid scan of the room -- Elizabeth had left the bed rumpled, she noted with fleeting amusement -- Joanna plucked the pardon from her pocket and scrutinized it.

He's optimistic. I'll give him that, Joanna thought of Beckett's intention to coax Jack under his wing once more. She bit her lip, reading the papers over and over. A full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company.

Joanna envisioned herself as a privateer -- a captain. Captain Joanna Brown. Her lips twitched traitorously in a smile, seeing herself in a wide-brimmed hat, calling orders to sailors and soldiers dressed sharply in blue.

As quickly as the fanciful thought entered her mind, it washed away, leaving Joanna discouraged. There was no world in which a timid, ex-convict, woman such as herself could command a ship of rambunctious, horizon-seeking sailors -- even if returning the pardon and Letters to Beckett was possible.