A/N This was written before the new movie so it has nothing to do with what happens in Pirates 2. Ta

PROLOGUE

He was crouched in the corner of the dank cell. His long grey flecked hair hung in his face and there was large, swollen, bloody knot on his forehead beneath the ragged remains of his old bandana. His breathing was shallow and came in wrenching gasps. When they saw him, the two figures who had been approaching from the stairway rushed along the passage to the bars in front of his cell.

"Good God!" exclaimed the elderly gentleman, his long face drawn in a mask of horror. The young woman with him sank to her knees, her fingers laced through the bars. She was pale and her dark eyes were huge as she gazed upon the wreck of the man before her. She stayed frozen like that while her companion wrestled the key from an ancient mangy dog, huddled under one of the benches on the opposite wall. He fitted it into the lock and swung the cell door open hastily.

Rising and following him into the cell the young woman moved to the side of the injured man and knelt, pulling his head around to look at her.

"Jack?" she said softly. Jack stared, almost blindly before drawing enough ragged breath to speak.

"Elizabeth?" He passed out.

The office of the Commodore of Port Royal was a large, airy room with long windows and pleasant paintings on the walls, but neither these nor the warm Caribbean sunshine were enough to cheer the spirits of the two people who sat there. After some moments of silence the door opened and a man in a blue uniform and white wig strode in.

"Commodore," blurted the young woman, "I simply can't understand how you can justify your treatment of that man!"

"He is a pirate miss," he replied with a slight sneer, "how else do you suggest we treat him?"

"With the respect due to any human being," answered the elderly gentleman who had been silent until now. "It is truly disgraceful that the man should be treated so. When I had you promoted I never thought that it would come to this."

"With all due respect Admiral Norrington, I fail to see that it makes any difference. You are not known as the scourge of the Caribbean pirates for nothing." The old Admiral glared at the blue jacketed buffoon he had had the misfortune to promote.

"Things change Gillette," he said quietly. The young woman had become increasingly restless during this conversation and suddenly stood up.

"Enough of this!" she cried, rounding on the slim figure of Commodore Gillette. "Your conduct in this matter has been inexcusable sir!"

"Really Miss Turner," he said, stepping backwards smoothly, "there is little need for your outburst. Sparrow will hang in eight days time whether he is fit or not and it will make little difference to the hang man."

She turned imploringly to Norrington for help.

"Please uncle James, there must be something you can do."

"I can't reverse the decision of the courts," he said shaking his head sadly, then a thin smile spread across his face, "but I can allow for you to have unlimited access to the prisoner and to be allowed to treat him for his injuries!"

"Not that it'll do much good," muttered Gillette, and added when they both glared at him, "but of course I can't do anything to stop you so of course..." he trailed of as they rose to leave.

"Good day Commodore," snapped the young woman as she brushed past him, "I trust that I will see little of you in the coming days."

And with that they were gone. Commodore Gillette sighed heavily and slumped down into his chair. Damn Norrington, I should have taken that post back in England!

Anne Turner was a lot like her mother. Same eyes, same smile, same fiery temperament but even so it had come as a shock to her to be called by her mother's name by the old pirate in the cell. Of course he was probably delirious, but still... She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here in Port Royal. She had come to the Caribbean with her uncle, Admiral Norrington after long discussion with her father that she should see something of the world and the Caribbean, under her uncle's care, had seemed a good place to start.

Not that she had never visited before, indeed she had been born there, on that very island in fact but they left when she was five and she had little real memory of the place except her grandfather, now dead and in heaven with her mother. Her father had been rather against her going and had argued with uncle James for hours about it. One night she passed the door to her father's study on the way to bed she heard him cry out in exasperation.

"Really James I hardly think there can be any safety while Sparrow is still lose in the Caribbean!" but the reply was so quiet that she could not hear it.

However, her father's arguments had not been enough to curb her enthusiasm for foreign places and she had thought little of the name that her father had shouted in his anger until a few days before.

They had been on the island of St Thomas, where her uncle had some business. Anne liked it there and they were in the middle of dinner one evening when a naval messenger arrived in a great fuss. The little man had handed his charge to the Admiral who had gone slightly pale.

"Uncle James, whatever is the matter?" she asked, rising and coming to his side.

"I must go to Port Royal," he muttered, his face drawn, "as soon as possible." He looked up at her. "They have captured a man, a man I used to know. I must go immediately." He rose suddenly and took her by both shoulders, his long fingers white at the knuckles from his tight grip. "You must go with me Anne. It is very important!"

"Of course," she replied quickly, suddenly afraid of him, "may I ask who it is they have captured?"

"His name is Jack Sparrow."

Apart from her father's earlier outburst the name meant nothing to her. However it bothered her. Her father had spoken of him as though he were some dangerous criminal and yet her uncle had been deeply effected by the news of his capture. On their journey from St Thomas she questioned him about it but he would say little.

"He was a pirate." he replied under the pressure of her gaze.

"Was?"

"He has not attacked a British ship since before you were born."

"I see."

"No you do not see Anne. Very few people ever really see Jack Sparrow, what they mostly see is shadow," he waved a hand in the air, "smoke and mirrors."

"And have you really seen him?" He looked at her blankly, as though he did not recognise her, then he looked away.

"I like to think that I did, once. However we have not met in many years, I have no doubt that we have both changed much." Then he was silent and would say no more on the matter.

Now he stood on the rampart of the fort and gazed down at the bay.

"Anne, you must look after Sparrow. He is a good man." There was a hint of sadness in his smooth voice.

"Yes uncle, but he seems so badly hurt, I fear there is little I can do for him alone." She knew no doctor would treat a condemned man, what was the point? "Besides, he may take dislike of a stranger at this time." Her uncle chuckled softly under his breath.

"But you are no stranger, Anne my dear. Indeed I should think he will take great comfort in your presence," he paused and glanced at her puzzled, questioning face. "But that is not for me to tell you. Ask him, if he is not delirious." Then he turned and walked back towards the main body of the fort.

"But where will you be?"

"I have work to do, but I shall expect an update on his condition this evening at dinner." And with that he was gone and Anne was alone on the rampart except for a few distant soldiers.