The Cry of Liberty

Chapter Thirteen: Promise

AN: I told myself I wasn't going to do AN's for this story but it felt rude to not come and say hello at least once. I wanted to say thank you to the very few of you who have found this story and stuck around, it means a lot for this story as it's near to my heart. It's my first published PotC fanfic and the first one I've written about the series since high school and it's a personal account of how far my writing, character building, and storytelling skills have evolved since that *shudders* other story. I hope this story continues to bring you joy and I am ever so grateful you are here experiencing Sasha's story with me.

A large burly man crossed the barroom of the Faithful Bride and offered a full tankard of ale to the pretty little brunette sitting alone at a table. He had spotted her when she had walked in, out of place in the room full of dirty scoundrels and women of the night. The man didn't notice the hush that fell over the room as he approached her, plopping himself down in front of her. The woman's blue eyes seemed to light up at the free drink.

"What's a lovely lady such as yourself doing in Tortuga?" As she reached for the drink, he grabbed her hand. All mirth drained from the woman's face and she scowled at where their skin touched. "Would you like a ride on my ship back home?" The crowd that grew around them watched with bated breath as he pulled her closer across the table.

"Actually, my ship serves me just fine." She grabbed his hand with her free one and squeezed it, tightening her grip with every word she spoke next. "It's impolite to touch a woman without permission." The man whimpered at the loud popping and cracking sounds coming from his hand. He dropped her wrist hoping she would stop but she only squeezed harder.

"You bitch, let me go!" The brute reached for a dagger on his hip but couldn't get it out in time before his arm was broken. The woman had pushed her full weight into twisting his arm until it snapped with a sickening crunch. She pushed him away and sat back down in her chair, pulling both beers to rest in front of her.

"Thanks for the drinks." She winked at the man as he was helped up by a couple sailors. They pulled him out of the tavern while he swore and cursed her the whole way. "A round on me, barkeep!" She shouted and the room filled with raucous applause and cheering.

Sasha had gone to the tavern while her crew bartered for goods in the market but they'd make their way into the Bride soon after they had finished. She needed to be alone, well, as alone as she could get in a room full of strangers. She needed to process the news that Captain Jack Sparrow had practically been executed.

They had been raiding a trade ship when the first mate had spat at her and told her she'd soon join 'that damned Sparrow' at the bottom of the sea. When pressed on the matter, he laughed and told how Beckett had arrested Jack and his crew and set the Wench ablaze. He said that Jack had broken free of his captors and dove into the water and swam to try and save his precious ship. Jack had gotten trapped somewhere on the ship as she sank, taking him down with her.

She hadn't let it show, to her first mate or crew, how the loss of her dear friend and lover affected her so. Drowning her repressed grief in Tortuga seemed the right thing to do. She let the alcohol soothe her, feeling the warmth spread throughout her aching muscles. Her eyes betrayed her, brimming with tears that threatened to spill over.

Lost in her thoughts, Sasha missed the new silence that spread in the barroom, all eyes on the doorway of the Bride. Rumors of Jack's death had spread far and wide so it was a shock to all present to see him swagger into the tavern. The silence turned to murmurs which in turn turned back into the normal chit chat between the patrons, shrugging it off as one of the many exaggerated tales that tended to get passed around. Jack sauntered in and took the empty seat in front of Sasha.

"I wouldn't sit there, last man who did had to be dragged out." A drunken sailor warned before stumbling off.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind." Jack grinned and grabbed the spare tankard. Sasha's head shot up at the sound of his voice.

"Y-you're dead." Jack looked surprised and checked over himself.

"Really?" He patted his chest and looked back at her. "I don't feel dead."

"How? I heard you were drowned, taken down with your ship." She hesitantly reached out and was met by him interlacing his fingers with hers.

"Is that so?" He played it off, shrugging. Jack let go of her hand and took a swig of ale. "So should I be concerned about what you did to the last man who sat here?" His grin set her heart at ease. She was thrilled he was here, breathing, and the joy seemed to overtake her curiosity of how he ended up there.

"He grabbed my wrist so I broke his arm." She smiled, bumping his tankard with her own. "Here's to hoping you aren't next."

Jack and Sasha drank their ale, simply making small talk. As soon as both glasses were empty, Sasha suggested they retire to her ship, to 'discuss' his need for a crew. They passed her own crew on their walk through the free port streets, Elias herding the men along so that their captain could discuss business with their ally. She was grateful to him for that small act. She held the door to her quarters open for him.

"Jack, you were dead. I didn't hear that rumor from our side, I heard it directly from a high ranking officer with the Company." Sasha shut the door behind her and met Jack's dark eyes.

"They aren't as imaginative as pirates when it comes to telling tales." He sat on her desk and tried to change the subject. Sasha crossed the room and grabbed his right arm roughly, lifting the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a very fresh 'P' brand. "We match now." The brunette sighed, letting his arm drop and pressing her forehead to his.

"I won't pry, clearly you don't want to talk about what happened." She took in his scent, so familiar but something new had been mixed in. Where he always smelled of sweat and the sea, there was a potent undertone of smoke and soot. "I'm just glad you made it."

"Miss me that much?" Jack chuckled, only to be silenced by Sasha's lips on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, happy to let her lead the situation. She slid a hand beneath his cotton shirt and slowly trailing her fingers up his stomach to his chest, resting her palm flat against his left breast. His heartbeat thudded rapidly against her hand.

"Promise me something, Jack." She broke their kiss and gazed seriously into his umber hewed eyes. "This is to always remain beating." He placed his hand over hers and pulled it to his lips, kissing her fingertips.

"For as long as I can keep it so."