Thanks to everyone who reviewed my other story. Here is the sequel of 'To Love a Pirate.' Some of the facts may be a little off because it has been a few months since I saw Dead Man's Chest, but I will do my best to stay true to the film. I apologize in advance for any errors I may make. Please read and review! 

Recollections of the Past

Isobel stood below decks on the Flying Dutchman with her arms wrapped around her shaking body, sobbing. Everything from her past had come rushing back to her two days ago. She had seen him. Him. The man she thought she would never see again. The man who had thought her dead; he still knew no different. The one man she had ever loved. James. Over time she had become numb to emotions. She had learned to block out her past. But seeing him had opened a door inside of her and everything she had locked away inside came flowing out.

It had happened when Captain Jones had sent them onto the land to retrieve his chest. Jack Sparrow and his companions had kept it away from them- and each other- while fighting over it. That is until they met a lone man running back through the woods with the chest. Isobel had only been able to stare blankly as James gave them the chest- the empty chest- and ran away. Her companions had hardly been able to rouse her, and when she finally regained a sense of feeling and began to move back to the ship, she felt dazed. She had been like that for the past two days, staring blankly as she worked and crying uncontrollably whenever she could get some time alone.

When the Kraken had taken the Black Pearl, Isobel had clutched the railing of the ship and stared at the ghastly scene, praying to any god who would listen that James was not on that ship. Luckily, Jack Sparrow had been the only person that was taken. Captain Jones had him prisoner now. When he found out that Sparrow didn't have the heart, he had been furious, but he agreed to let Jack live as normal man, not yet beginning his 100 years service in the Dutchman's crew, until he helped hive recover the heart. Jack had agreed. Isobel longed to go ask him about James. She longed to know how he was doing, whether he was dead or alive, if he was safe. Jack might know something of him. But she hadn't had any opportunity to get him alone yet. Now, as she cried, she recalled her last moments with James.

When Blackeye stabbed her, she knew that she was going to die. She knew his sword had pierced vital organs, and she had been bleeding profusely. Luckily she had the satisfaction of seeing him die first. As she lay there, feeling her life slowly draining out of her body, James had rushed over to her.

He was bloody from the killing he had done. Isobel feebly reached up her hand to smooth some of his hair back. He took the hand and held it tightly between his own. She felt so cold.

"You're going to be alright," he said after he had seen her wound. His voice was thick with unshed tears, and his last word came out in a croak as his voice broke. "Everything will be fine," he continued hoarsely, "I'll just get you to the ship…" He put his arms around her waist and began lifting her, but the movement sent spasms of pain all through Isobel's body. She groaned in pain. He eased her body back down and began to shakily rub her hair. "Oh, Isobel," he murmured, "Isobel. Isobel. I love you, Isobel." A tear rolled down his cheek. "Please don't leave me."

She reached up and wiped away the tear. It was an effort to force a smile. The gaping wound in her stomach was the most painful thing she had ever experienced, and it hurt to breathe. "I'll always be with you," she whispered as she caressed his cheek, "When the sun shines on you, know that it is me smiling down at you. When the wind rustles your hair, it is me whispering how much I love you." She trailed her finger down to his chest and felt the beat of his heart. "I will always be here. In your heart. In your soul. Go on with your life. Think of me from time to time and remember what we shared. Remember our love."

Then he broke down into tears, clutching her hand and begging her not to leave him. If she could have found the energy to cry she would have wept with him, but she could only lie there numbly. She knew her time was running out, so she took his face in her hands again. "Kiss me, please," she told him, "I want to feel your lips on mine once more. Please, James." He brought his lips down against hers gently. Isobel savored the feeling of him. She wished things could have been different. After she killed Blackeye, she wanted to take James back to Ireland with her. They would have gotten married and maybe had children. Oh, how she wanted to have James's babies! None of that would happen now.

When he pulled away, she continued to speak. "Take me to the waters edge and let me die there. Give my body to the sea." He looked like he wanted to argue. Whether to assure her again that she would not die or object her idea of a funeral, she did not know. She didn't give him a chance to speak. "That is what I want, James. Please do this for me."

He gently lifted her. It hurt to be moved, but she tried to suppress her groans. She did not want James to know how much pain she was in. She did not want to add on to his sorrow. Instead of laying her down, he sat at the waters edge and held her in his lap. She didn't object. It felt good to be held by him one last time. "Why?" he moaned softly as he rocked her limp body back and forth, "Why? Why? Why?"

"Please do not be bitter, my love," she said. It was an effort to speak, but she wanted to say all that she could to him before it was too late. "Not many people have what we had. I would not trade my time with you for anything, even if it was a short time. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I will always love you. If you know nothing else, know that."

"You are the only woman I have ever loved, Isobel," he whispered to her brokenly, "The happiest day of my life was when I met you. I wouldn't trade our time together for anything either. I love you, and I'll love you until the day that I die and my soul comes to join yours." She smiled weakly at him, and then she was gone.

Or so James thought. The next thing Isobel remembered after her talk with James was looking into the face- if you could call it a face- of a squid-like man.

"Are you ready to meet your maker?" the man said, "Are you ready to face judgment and for all your sins to be accounted for? I can save you from that fate… for a price."

Isobel wondered at this… creature. "Who are you?" she asked weakly.

The man thing laughed. It was an eerie, sickening sound. "Why, I am Davy Jones."

Davy Jones…? How could it be? Were all the stories true? No. Those stories were for children. That was rubbish. Then she began to think about what he asked her. Was she ready to face judgment? Was she? No, she decided after a moment. No, she was not. Could she be saved from her fate? "Name your price." Davy Jones laughed again.

Then she found out that those 'stories' were not just idle tales to entertain children. She was living- if you could even call it living- in one of those stories. At first, she thought everything would be okay, but then it was apparent that she had made a terrible decision. She still had 85 more years of service in Davy Jones's crew. She would give anything to be released from this.

Isobel was extremely thankful that James had not seen her. He would be appalled if he knew what she was like now. The smooth ivory skin that he had once loved was now unnaturally pale and discolored, like the skin of a rotting corpse. Her long red hair hung in a tangled mass and was riddled with squid tentacles. In place of her left hand she had a dark red lobster claw. Her face wasn't too changed aside from the fact that a few barnacles stuck to it here and there. But that made it even worse for her. She had a glimpse of her former self but knew that she could never be that woman again. She hoped she would never see James again. She didn't think she could bear to have him look at her like a monster.

"Oh, James," she sobbed, "James. Why? Why? Why?"

"I know how you feel, girl." Isobel gasped and whirled around at the sound of a man's gruff voice.

"Bootstrap!" she gasped. Bill Turner- Bootstrap Bill- had come upon her silently, startling her. She tried to choke back her sobs and furiously brushed the tears off her cheeks. She knew it was no use though. Anyone with eyes would have no problem telling just how much she had been crying. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Same as you," Bill replied as he walked toward her. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I wasn't busy, so I came to seek solitude below decks. I have had quite a few things to think about these past few days."

Isobel looked at Bill with unblinking eyes. She recalled the young man who had been taken aboard a few days before she saw James. Bill's son. Bill had left him- William- when he was just a boy, to go pirating. That had been the last time Bill had seen his son until a few days ago. She wondered how William had reacted to seeing his father for the first time. She wondered if he knew James. She decided she would ask Bill about her first thought.

"What did your son say," she began hesitantly. This might be a touchy subject. "When he saw you?"

Bill looked at her for a moment before answering. "He was surprised… to say the least. It's shocking when someone believes you to be dead and then comes face to face with you."

Isobel gulped. How would James react when he saw her? He would certainly be surprised also. He had thought he saw her die in his arms. Well, in truth she had. Her old life was gone, the old Isobel dead. Now she was a monster. She looked down at her claw. What would he say about that? "What did…" she drew deep breath, "What did he say about how you looked?"

Bill met her eyes. "When someone really cares about you, they can get past your appearance."

Isobel knew James had loved her; there was no doubt in her mind about that. She knew what they had had been real. But would he be able to see past her hideousness if they were by some chance to meet again?

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James Norrington, newly reappointed to Commodore, sat alone in his cabin on the ship. He had been at sea for only two days now. Lord Beckett was now in possession of Davy Jones's heart, and he had reasoned that to stay in Port Royal would attract Davy Jones's attention. So they all set out to sea.

But right now, Lord Beckett, Davy Jones, and the heart were all far from James's mind.

It was 15 years ago to the day that a part of himself had died. He usually refrained from thinking of Isobel much- it was too painful- but some days, especially on the anniversary of her death, he could not keep her out of his mind. He could still recall vividly their last days together, the good and the bad. Dreams of her soft body pressed against him, of her full lips on his, haunted his sleep. He still remembered exactly the way her smooth, silky skin felt to his fingertips. He could still recollect the taste of her mouth. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night after a pleasant dream of her, and he would reach out in his bed thinking that he would find her lying beside him. Then reality would come crashing back, and he would lie awake the rest of the night trying to banish thoughts of Isobel.

He wondered what his life would have been like if she had not died. He would certainly have a family by now. She was so eager to have children. He looked to his bed as he recalled a conversation they had had a few nights before her death.

James sat up in bed with his back against the wall. Isobel snuggled into his chest. He idly played with her hair as she talked.

"I will want at least seven children," she was saying, "Four girls and three boys. Or maybe four boys and three girls. I don't know. I want to name one of the girls Briana, after my mother, and I want to name one of the boys Patrick, for my father. I'm not sure about the others, but we will certainly have some time to think on it. I want…." She trailed off and looked up at him. "Are you listening to me, James Norrington?" she asked with mock anger as she playfully pinched his chest.

In truth, he had only been half listening. He was too busy loving her to really hear what she was saying then. He smiled down at her adoringly. "Of course, my love," he replied. He racked his brain, trying to recall her words. "Um… Briana and Patrick… seven children…." His eyes widened as he really realized what he had said. "Seven?"

Isobel giggled. "Yes, seven. At least." At James's bewildered look, she explained, "I didn't have any brothers or sisters and my childhood was sometimes rather lonely. I want my children to grow up in a big family. You will have to get used to the idea."

James caressed her cheek then kissed her sweet lips tenderly. "Whatever you want, darling," he murmured. He knew whatever she desired or asked him for, he wouldn't be able to deny her. She had him in the palm of her hand. He loved her so much that he didn't care.

"Good," she replied, running her hands up and down his bare torso, "I love you, you know."

He grinned and nodded. "I know." He stroked her smooth back with his fingertips. "I love you, too. More than anything."

She gave him a sultry smile and rolled onto her back pulling him down with her.

They would never have those seven children. James sighed as he pulled off his boots, getting ready for bed, though he knew he would get no sleep tonight.

Since Isobel's death, he had tried to fill the void in his soul with various women, but none seemed to work. Elizabeth Swann had come closest. She reminded him of Isobel somewhat. They were both very spirited and lively, with minds of their own. He had chosen to propose to Elizabeth because of that, and because he thought that Isobel would have liked her. But now he didn't even have that. Losing Elizabeth, though, was not at all as painful or as hard to bear as having to give up Isobel. Her death had been by far the hardest thing he had had to bear in his whole life.

Undressed, he lay down on the small bed. He closed his eyes and in vain tried to doze off. But inevitably, every time he felt himself start to drift, a beautiful ivory face with sparkling emerald eyes and full pink lips, framed by glossy red ringlets, presented itself in his mind and he was wide awake again.

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Okay there's my first chapter! Please review and tell me how you liked it.