Disclaimer : No own, just love. Except Ethel. She's mine. Arr.

She tore through the thick forest, running blindly in the dim moonlight. She didn't know where she was going, and it didn't matter, as long as it was away from the men chasing her with their hounds and guns. Branches scratched her arms, rocks scraped her bare feet, and she was so preoccupied with her escape that she almost didn't notice the steep cliff that had suddenly appeared before her. Stopping in her tracks, she realized she had nowhere to run. She flitted her eyes around frantically as the footsteps and shouts came closer. Not knowing what else to do, Ethel leapt off.

Her arms strained, gripping the hilt of the dagger she had driven into the earthy ledge. It was the only thing between her and a watery grave. The ocean below was churning against sharp rocks that would be quite hard to miss. A soldier peered over the cliff, but the ledge hid her.

"She must have fallen," said the man. "Her body should wash to shore in the morning." There was a brief silence, and then the fading sound of footsteps. Ethel waited for what felt like hours, listening. When she was certain that none had stayed behind, she stirred. She needed a foothold.

After a time, she managed to drag herself back up onto the cliff, plunking her dagger down next to her. She had just exhaled a sigh of relief when she turned around to face a man she had not seen for ten years. Captain Barbossa.

"Hello, Ethel," he said. Ethel looked startled. She eyed him warily as he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, unsure as to whether she should hug him or run.

"I guess yer not a skeleton anymore, then?" she asked, settling for a neutral response.

Barbossa grinned wryly. "No." Ethel nodded and looked around.

"Great." There was a silence as the two pirates sized each other up. The years had not been kind to Barbossa, Ethel concluded. His hair, which she had always remembered as being brownish red, was now more of a faded red. Ethel squinted. Greyish red? No, it was grey. And he'd acquired a scar, right across his left eye. Fancy that. His blue eyes were yellowed around the iris and red around the rim. His skin was ruddier than she'd remembered, too. And wrinkly. Very, very wrinkly. Not the handsome pirate captain of her memories but an old salt. By god, he was an old man now.

It had been ten years since Barbossa had laid eyes upon the young woman before him. She had outgrown her gangly adolescent awkwardness, her features finally fitting in place. Her unruly red hair had tamed itself, vaguely. At least it stayed in place under her bandana now. Thick lashes rimmed her blue eyes, giving the illusion of kohl. She had become a woman, Barbossa thought.

"So what are ye doin' here?" Ethel asked in her South Irish lilt.

"A little bird told me ye were in trouble," Barbossa replied.

"I was, but I wouldn't peg ye as the sort te sail clear across th'sea to help me out of a mess."

"Man's got to look out fer 'is own daughter."

"Well, ye be a bit late fer that, Da," she said, emphasizing the title with a tinge of bitterness. "Don't know if ye noticed, I sprung myself out of that jail."

"I did notice."

"In which case, thanks fer nothin'," Ethel brushed past him. "I'll see you in another ten years."

"Who did ya think it was that shot the prison guard, Ethel?"

She stopped in her tracks and a grin spread across her face. "Don't suppose that was you?" she said, turning around. Barbossa pointed to his pistol by way of confirmation. "You know," she said, "I do need a ship."

A/N : And so shall begin the adventure! Next : A very important somebody is onboard the Black Pearl