The Collector |Sequel to Collector of Odd|

I |Wishful Memories|

 A promise to keep.

          The gypsy's hips swayed, her front barely brushed against the drunken man she was dancing with. Her hands roamed, dipping into loose pockets and an unbuttoned shirt. The stranger's hand flattened against her lower back, forcing her body against his grimy form. Full lips pulled up into a sneer, though her disgusted expression was well hidden by the shadow of her three-point hat. The woman's rough palms pressed against the skin peeking out from the man's filthy shirt, her fingers curled, causing her nails to dig into his flesh. His head dipped to her ear at the sudden aggression she showed him. Though she assumed he thought his words were smooth, they were slurred causing her hidden orbs to roll in annoyance.

          "What's ye na'e lil' lass?" Her head rolled back, causing her hat to shift backwards so her face was shown. Her grin was the first thing he noticed, the way one corner tilted up in a fox like gesture had the drunken man narrowing his eyes. Something warned him of that grin, a nudge in the back of his mind vaguely reminded him of a story told about that same grin. "My friends call me Mirela..." She rose up onto her toes, allowing her breath to fan across the crest of his ear as she spoke once more. "but you, you can call me the Collector." And with that, the woman twirled around his side, only to disappear into the familiar crowd of town drunks.

          Mirela chuckled to herself, hazel eyes sparkled with the specks of white sand embedded within them. Her orbs ran over the golden necklace tangled between her fingers and the new rings she had acquired alongside it. She had always been partial to things that glistened in the sun. Along with the handful of jewelry she would be sure to sell for a nights rent, Mirela had also taken the man's coin purse. Not the best finds of her night, but it would help her extend her stay within London. Placing the items into her pocket, Mirela quickened her pace, her body danced throughout the shadows, avoiding the many wondering eyes. With one last glance from under her hat, Mirela slid out of the pub without so much as a groan from the wooden door.

          Her boots tapped lightly on the muddy ground, a silent pitter patter only Mirela was aware of. A shout echoed from behind her, a drunken screech that had her slipping into the nearest alley without hesitation. Pushing up the white sleeves of a shirt long borrowed from a man she hadn't seen in months, the gypsy stuck her arms into a barrel filled with something she knew only as fowl. Her fingers twitched, searching for the leather belt that would be carrying her affects. Moments later she pulled her belongs out of the barrel, a half smile instantly painted her lips as she quickly fastened the wide band low on her hips.

          With a glance toward the sky, Mirela rested her hand upon her sword, her thumb caressed the hilt of her blade. Momentarily, memories of a certain chocolate eyed man entered her thoughts, her smile turned warm, yet her eyes held a sadness only caught at second glance. A year ago, when Mirela set out in search of the Fountain of Youth with Jack, she wouldn't have imagined they would have parted ways. Yet now, now she was coming to understand that it was for the best. She hadn't realized it when she was with Bensik, mostly because he was gone half the time they were together, but Mirela craved the life of a gypsy just as much as Jack craved freedom. They had parted not with a goodbye, but with a promise to meet again. She knew it was a promise both of them would keep.

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          "Hell's teeth! Now we're both headed for prison!" A rather exasperated Gibbs jerked at the shackles above him, his steely gray orbs were wide in confusion and bewilderment, an emotion Jack was used to seeing on his first mates face. Jack simply rolled his eyes, his left hand was held close to his face, his fingers running against each other in a repetitive motion. "Not to worry, I've paid off the driver. Ten minutes, we'll be outside Londontown, horses waiting. Tonight we'll make the coast. Then it's just a matter of finding a ship." With a crooked grin, Jack pulled out a flask from his coat, his fingers made quick work of the came before he took a rather hardy swig.

          His tongue ran over his bottom lip in a silent form of appreciation. At least the rum wasn't gone this time. "All part of the plan, yes?" Jack's eyes flickered up to Gibbs, a smug smirk plastered across his face as he handed the flask to his friend. "Exactly. I arrived in Londontown just this morning to rescue one Joshamee Gibbs from one appointment with the hallows. Seeing as how you're still alive, I'd say it's all been very successful thus far." Jack paused, a crease taking form in his brow as Gibbs took his own swig of rum. "What happen to you, Gibbs? I thought you were employed elsewhere or otherwise engaged." With genuine curiosity and concern, Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting upon his knees.

          "Aye. But I always listened like a thief for news of the Black Pearl. Nobody's seen where she might next make port – then, I hear a rumor. Jack Sparrow was in London, with a ship, and looking for a crew." Gibbs words had Jack's brows pinching, a frown pulled his lips downward. A rather disgruntled "Am not" was Jacks only reply. "But that's what I heard! Fact is, you're signing up men tonight, pub called Captain's Daughter." Gibbs paused to take another drink, god how he had missed rum in the past few hours. "Am. Not!" The flask was suddenly taken from Gibbs grasp, leaving him to hastily swallow his drink.

          "Well, I thought it a bit odd. Then, you've never been the most predictable of sorts." Gibbs chuckled lightly, his thoughts going to a certain gypsy he noticed wasn't by Jack's side. As a silence settled between the pair, Gibbs studied Jack, taking in the way he seemed to be fiddling with his fingers more then he often did. Upon farther inspection Gibbs noticed the black ring on Jack's ring finger, a ring Gibbs had often noticed the gypsy woman staring fondly at. His gray orbs widened a fraction, his thoughts instantly jumped to the worst scenario, however, with another drink from the flask Gibbs was back to his normally calm self.

           Before Gibbs could voice his question, Jack spoke up, his eyes sparkling with the light of an idea. "Tell me something. There is another Jack Sparrow out there sullying my good name?"

          "An imposter." Gibbs nodded, his eyes watching Jack with a look of curiosity.

          "Indeed. But... an imposter with a ship.." A sly grin pulled at Jack's mouth, his gold teeth flashed with the promise of an idea fit for a pirate and nothing less. Gibbs returned the grin, his eyes grew a fraction in understanding before he handed the flask back to Jack, a silent sign of agreement was passed. As Jack took a drink, Gibbs took this moment to ask the question that had been on his mind. "What about you, Jack? Last I heard, you and Mirela were hell-bent to find the Fountain of Youth." Gibbs paused to snatch the map from Jack's coat and unroll it. "Any luck?" Gibbs eyes wondered hungrily over the map before it was snatched back from him, Jack quickly stuffed it back into his coat.

          "Circumstances arose, and forced to compelling insight regarding discretion and the valor." Gibbs snorted at Jack's answer, one gray brow rose at his friend. "Meaning, you gave up." The look Jack gave Gibbs had the older man suppressing a smirk. "I did not! I am just as bent as ever! Hellishly so! I shall taste those waters, Master Gibbs... mark my words." With a grin, Gibbs nodded his head along with Jack's words. There was the Jack he knew. "And Mirela? Where be your lass?" This question had a startling effect on Jack, the normally witty responsive man was now oddly silent, his brow pinched as he fiddled with the black ring once again.

          "Circumstances arose..."