Disclaimer: I do not own PotC. I make no material profit from fanfics.

"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks." (Samuel Johnson)

Chapter 1

The amber night was filled with loud curses, occasional gunshots and bursts of drunken laughter as the worst types of pirates, scoundrels and adventurists gathered on a God forsaken strip of land. Thinly spread out yellow lights blinked in murky windows, making the road more frightening than illumining it. The fog came from the sea, covering the town piled up on the shore in blurry mist.

Stepping outside, Renee pulled her worn out scarf securely around her shoulders and hunched, keeping to the shadowy part of the shabby street. A woman who wished to pass through one of the Tortuga's worst nooks at night without becoming free entertainment to one of the vagabonds had no business being there at all. That was so, but her three days empty stomach had disagreed. She hadn't been able to resist an opportunity to work the night shift at the local pub, the Red Parakeet, one of the shadiest places in town. The pub owner provided her temporary employees, and there were many new ones due to majority of the servers getting shot or maimed, with a full meal, whereas the late shift offered more money. The most dangerous part, however, was returning home that lay on the outskirts of the town. Praying that for once fortune would bestow a bit of luck on her, Renee hurried along. She was tempted to run, but feared that it too would attract unnecessary attention.

It seemed that the boon responsible deity had no liking of frightened, weak-willed women, for Renee soon noticed that she was followed by two men. As inconspicuously as possible, she walked a bit faster to the nearest corner and then broke into full run pursued by heavy boots thudding behind her. Fear urged her to go faster. Drab hair strands fell into her eyes and she dared not brush them away. The street seemed awfully long. Shouldn't there have been a familiar turn a while ago? She must have missed it. There was no turning back, so Renee lurked into the nearest dark alley and pressed her back to the wall, hopeful the bandits might run by. Her feet wobbled from fear with little help from the slippery ground covered in disgusting puddles of mud after a thunderstorm. Renee slid farther into shadow, backing into a dead end.

The sound of hefty footfalls stopped. The bandits exchanged a few words, deciding which way to go. Then, slowly, deliberately, they moved towards her hiding place. Two dim silhouettes approached suspiciously, almost sniffing out the darkness. They knew she was there. Renee crouched behind some broken crates. When two men turned away to search the other side of the alley, she tried to crawl past them unnoticed.

Unbidden tears from abrupt pain stung her eyes as she was grabbed and hurled onto her feet by her hair. "There ya are! We've been looking for ya," crowed a rough voice. "We're gonna have some fun with ya."

Renee bit her tongue almost to blood. It was useless to plead for mercy or to call for help. It was best to stay inconspicuous. Shouting would only attract more miscreants who would welcome a chance to get an additional entertainment at her expense. She knew that silence was the best bet on Tortuga when you were in trouble, but her fright was too great. She shrieked involuntarily, kicking and trying to twist out of the assailants' hands when they tried to restrain her. The bandits were too strong. Their dirty hands with long, broken nails made their way under the skirt, and Renee doubled her efforts to break free, shrieking even louder. The hands gripped her hips tight, and then slipped down her legs and fell away. An echo of a shot rang in her ears, although she missed the sound of the shot itself. She was dropped onto the ground harshly with a dead weight on top. Renee pushed the bandit off in disgust.

The second bandit was beside her with a cutlass in hand. His bloodshot eyes were glaring down the alley. Renee followed his gaze and winced. It was difficult to say who scared her more the bandit or her unexpected rescuer. Half-covered by shadows and leaning on a nearby wall stood a very tall man. He was filthy. Ghostly-white, lose hair strands stuck out in all directions. The man held a bottle of rum he took a swing out of.

"Who the devil ya be!" the bandit shouted in rage. "Why'd ya kill ma mate? I'm gonna cut ya gut open and spill ya guts out into the gutter!"

It took a while for the words to sink in before the stranger replied with a heavy slur, "Why'd I give my name to a dirty pirate? Your crime of assaulting an innocent woman is evident. I brought your mate to justice. So, you can go hang yourself."

With an infuriated growl, the bandit charged. Renee thought he'd run the cutlass straight through the stranger, but at the last moment the targeted man swiftly pushed away from the wall and pulled out his own weapon. With a great strength, he shoved the attacker away and his cutlass cut the air dangerously, barely missing the bandit.

"You want some of this? Get in line!" he shouted.

Was her rescuer so drunk that he saw double or possibly triple? In spite of the gravity of the situation, Renee felt a twinge of amusement. The man was swaying heavily side to side like he was on deck of a ship in a storm, and yet miraculously managing to block all of the assailant's attacks. It was a wonder how he managed to shoot one of the bandits. He could have shot her too by accident.

The pair fought fiercely, blocking her way out of the alley. The bandit's initial advantage diminished as he grew angrier and careless, opening holes in his defences. Sprouting profanities, he charged one more time. His opponent swayed out of the way and ran his weapon clean through the bandit's body. Renee who was trying to sneak around them froze, finding the man too close for comfort. She shrank against the wall.

The stranger regarded her dully. "Don't worry, Miss," he told her. He took another swing of rum from the bottle that he never lost during the fight and fell at her feet into the mud.

Renee recovered from shock quickly. After four years of wondering the streets she became just another rat of Tortuga or at least she began thinking about herself that way. Stay silent, out of the way, and scavenge provisions where you can find them without attracting unwanted attention. Two dead bodies, as horrifying as they were, were still an opportunity. Throwing frequent glances at her rescuer, Renee searched two bandits for coin.

They were fallen men who slipped through the cracks of society. No one would miss them or care when a random passer-by would discover their bodies in the morning. She never cared for taking another's valuables, partially due to superstition, partially in fear that someone might come to claim the long stolen and re-stolen goods, but she desperately needed the money. There was no law on Tortuga to punish her for stealing. However, there was an understanding of might. Whoever was stronger had the first claim to the spoils. There was one judge to them all, death. Renee knew the laws of this world. Money was money, and if she didn't take them, someone else would. Dead men had no need of them, she did. When there was nothing else to take, she rose, intending to escape the scene of the crime.

Carefully, she stepped over the body of her rescuer who lay face down in the mud. She almost felt obligated to thank him, instantly dubbing the thought as insane. It was impossible due to his state, and there was no guarantee that after a drunken heroic fancy he wouldn't hallucinate another fancy where he won't be so honourable, and then she would be in real trouble.

Renee took a few steps through the alley, and then looked back, then took a few more steps away. It didn't matter, did it? He would wake up, remember nothing, he would get drunk again, fall into the mud and let the cycle repeat until someone would kill him and end his useless, miserable life. Except, his life wasn't so useless because he saved her. It was very unusual on Tortuga for anyone to come close to decency or to consider offering a helping hand to another. She looked back. He lay so still that she suddenly felt a twinge of worry that he might suffocate. Perhaps, she should move him to a different location, for her safety too. She had yet to reach her home, not a safe path to go, and the presence of a man with her, dead drunk as he was, might cause others to reconsider attacking her.

"Hey," Renee called out, afraid of her own voice as she came back. "Hey, are you alive?" She leaned over the man and with difficulty turned him over. His shoulder felt like a solid rock. He coughed and mumbled something incoherently. "You need to get up," she said, trying to pull him up by the collar into a sitting position. The bottle of rum pressed into her side. In frustration, she tried to take it away, but his grip on it tightened, and no matter how much she tried, she wasn't able to pry it from his fingers. "Stupid drunk!" she hissed angrily. It would have been smarter to walk away then, but she suddenly felt angry that her entire life had been dictated by foolish events that perhaps could have been thwarted had she shown more will. Because she always gave up too easily bad things continued to befall her. In a fit of stubbornness, she decided not to give up, even if it killed her.

Worn on him, she saw remnants of a sea uniform. Maybe, he was a sailor down on his luck. She remembered that training obtained in military stuck to men for the rest of their lives, no matter how much they were altered by life. It was a far shot, but it was worth it, at least it was better than trying to pull up a dead weight. She wasn't too good with the ranks, so she came up with the first one that entered her mind. "How dare you sleep through your Navy night shift, Commodore!" she shouted right into his ear. "Get on your feet at once!"

She was knocked on her behind when he jumped up with an unexpected speed. He swayed gracelessly at once, but Renee nimbly regained her footing and grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you dare fall again," she warned. Reluctantly, he stumbled after her as she dragged him along. Then he stopped, and once again she was unable to move him. "Now what," she muttered to herself, but he suddenly responded.

"We are on a ship," he told her. "We have passengers on board. Women. Women are good luck. Sailors say its bad luck, but I think it's a supe…stupee…suuu..tition."

"Shut up!" Renee snapped. "If you think you're such a gentleman in charge of a ship, then treat your passengers to something nice, like a bottle of rum."

Seeing him slack in his unmoving position as he tried to take it in, she used the opportunity to guide him along when she felt the bottle press into her hand. She looked at it in amazement and then quickly threw it over the nearest fence.

"No," said the man numbly. "The rum is gone." He followed her sullenly afterwards, clearly offended. "I remember now," he said after a while, sinking into another long pause.

"What is it now?" she prompted. The silence was starting to bother her. When she talked to him the fear of the surroundings dissipated because she was too annoyed to care about anything else. For that she felt a tiny bit of gratitude, even if his contribution to her well being was accidental.

"I remember now why you don't give rum to women. They throw it away."

Renee snorted. "Yes, the rum is gone," she confirmed. "Forget about it."

"My head hurts," he muttered.

"I wonder why!" Her sarcasm might have killed a different man, but this one survived still following her and stumbling.

"The rum makes my head hurt less," he complained. "And it makes me think less."

"What could you possibly be thinking about aside from the next bottle of rum?"

"Nothing, I suppose," he agreed.

For some reason that made her feel bad like she said something unfair. She pushed the guilt away. The man was highly bothersome and it's not like she hadn't stated the truth.

She didn't feel comfortable enough to strike another conversation and he remained silent. She breathed a sigh of relief when the yellow lights vanished as they entered completely unlit part of Tortuga where the night sky seemed friendlier. It was quieter too. Renee was exhausted. The man leaned heavily on her, barely keeping up. He was asleep on his feet. Never had she been so happy to reach her shabby, falling apart home. She pushed the crooked gate open, and led the man in towards a hammock that hung between palm trees. Renee disposed the man into it. Without a goodnight wish, Renee staggered up her home steps and locked the door securely behind her. She was going to deal with this man in the morning, providing he didn't wake up earlier and leave. Somehow, she didn't want him to leave before she thanked him, although it would have made her life easier.