Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I only own Isabeau Fairchild.

Notes: Please Review! XOXOXO

Jack Sparrow was a pirate, pure and simple. He could hardly remember a time before he was infamous, and even in the brief moments when he did remember, he chose to ignore the insatiable urge to be a gentleman. He was no longer whom he once was. No, all that he was could be summed up in the way his name was said by those around him. From the husky whisper of his name, pulled from the sinful lips of a lady of Tortuga to the way Lord Beckett said it, with an angry biting hiss, all anyone needed to know about Captain Jack Sparrow could be discerned from the way his name was uttered.

He was cunning, devious, madly brilliant, a womanizer, a liar, a cheat, a thief, and he was, more often than not, a self serving bastard. The brand on his arm was nothing compared to the brand piracy had left on his very soul. So it was no surprise when his ship made port in Tortuga, the Captain hastily swaggering his way down the ramp and onto solid land in pursuit of his two greatest loves, behind the sea ofcourse, rum and loose women. It was like any other time the ship had made port in Tortuga, or so Jack thought. That was ofcourse until on the outskirts of town he happened upon a young woman on the edge of the cliff, sobbing and staring blindly down at the jagged rocks below. She did not hear him coming, she did not acknowledge his presence, and he might as well have walked on except for in an instant she had moved even closer to the edge, balancing on the precipice on the balls of her feet.

Jack was stunned, in all his years he had seen many people die and he had even seen a few take their own life, however he had never seen a woman who fancied taking a trip to Davy Jone's locker. Jack had been there, and he would not wish the locker upon his worst enemies, let alone upon the stunning beauty before him. Her fiery red hair blew in the wind, blocking his view of her face. Her cheap skirts billowed out around her, in stark contrast to her tiny waist. She was a lady of Tortuga. Jack knew that much, he could smell the cheap perfume floating towards him on the sea breeze. Jack also knew that he was going to have to talk her down off that cliff or find some other manner in which he could save her from herself. He sighed inwardly, what was it with him and damsels falling off of cliffs. He was tired of having to save others, when it was he who needed saving. Even if he would never admit that it was he who was the one in distress. Jack moved slowly, like someone would if they were approaching a cornered predator, towards the girl. A twig broke under his foot, and her head snapped upwards, her wild blazing eyes locking on his. His breath hitched when he saw the startling emerald eyes which peered out at him from under dark lashes. Her skin was like ivory, not a freckly or imperfection could be found on her face. Her lips were coated in a vibrant red, and her cheeks sported an almost matching hue. She was even more stunning than he had first thought. However, the look of utter despair which resided in her emerald depths reminded Jack of his original purpose and while her attention was on him and no longer on the cliff he made a rush at her. He caught her offguard, dragging her away from the cliff and onto the dewy grass covered ground.

When his breathing returned to normal, he took the time to look more closely to examine her. Her body shook beneath him, her kohl linner ran down her cheeks to drip onto her full bosom, but it was none of these factors which shocked Jack. It was the look of recognition in her eyes. He knew he had never seen her before, he would have remembered her face and her warm body.

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?" Her voice was meak and broken and came out in a rushed gasp. He felt the familiar stirrings of desire and plastered on his best croaked come hither smile. "Its Captain Jack Sparrow, luv. Now whats a pretty little thing like yourself doing trying to take a trip to Davy Jones. Wouldn't want to waste your beauty on young Mr. Turner. Trust me, he's already got a girlie. A pirate king type of girlie." Jack practically hissed the part about the new captain of the Flying Duchman and his wife. He still was a bit sore with the two of them. He had always fancied Elizabeth would take him to her bed, but the only thing she did of the sort was kiss him before sending him to his death. "You don't remember me do you?" The look of hurt on her face caused Jack to take a dip into his memories. No, he was certain he had never seen her.

"Its me Jack. Isabeau. Remember?" The name sparked a memory deep within him, a memory he had tried to block out. A beautiful red headed beauty begging him not to go to sea. Telling him that the East India Trading Company had nothing for him that she could not offer herself. He had promised to come back to that girl, the one who had claimed his heart so long ago, but then he had been branded a pirate and he knew that he could not return to her. She deserved so much better, yet there was no way that the Isabeau who had held his heart so long ago could be here. She would never sink so low as to sell her body. She had a family who adored her, an immaculate cottage, and plenty of suitors which would have loved to have snagged her from Jack back in the day. Unknowingly he began to stroke the dainty band which sat on his left hand ring finger.

He had long blocked out the memory of his fiery wife. They had been so young, so naive, and he had left her with his heart. He refused to believe that the woman beneath him was one and the same, but when his eyes found her ring finger and saw the stunning ruby which sat their he shuttered. The woman beneath him was his wife, or at least she had been, now she was a common lady of the night. A beauty yes, but she no longer belonged to him, that much he knew. However, his heart pounded angrily in his chest at the though of another man's hands on her. She was his. He knew he had to stop that thinking. Whatever they had once upon a time was long dead. He was no longer the man she once knew. He was Captain Jack Sparrow. A man of the sea, a man who took no prisoners and refused to be tied to one person for more than a night. He sighed as he felt a rush of tenderness consume him as he looked down at her. "Isabeau Fairchild. It's been a long time luv. I see you'v gotten along well without me. Didn't wait for my return did you. Just wen't and found yourself a home in a brothel." His words were angry and biting,they were meant to hurt her and he didn't even know why he wanted to but he did. He immediately regretted his cold words when fresh tears sprung from her eyes and she attempted to shove him off of her. He let her up and she immediately scampered away from him. "It's still Isabeau Sparrow, Jack. But I see that I have been right to go by my maiden name. Your a cold hearted bastard, Jack Sparrow."

Her words haunted him long after she had turn and fled. Why would she still be considering herself his wife? What had made her want to take her life? And more importantly what had made her give up the comforts of her home to become a wench? Sure she was more beautiful than Scarlette and Gisselle combined, and surer she would rake in more customers, but she was of a different mold. She was better than them, and she sure as hell did not belong in Tortuga.