I haven't been this sober in a long time.

God, I wish I wasn't.

My Compass had been getting steadily heavier for days and days. I could feel it. I looked at it and it looked back at me. Shut up. It looked smug, as if it knew that after weeks of ignoring it I would eventually be forced to do what it told me. Sometimes I don't like you at all. Why are you always right? That is usually my job. I thought about taking the Jolly Rodger down but I decided against it. Now that it was sober I had a much weaker dislike for him and a growing one for my Compass now that we were sailing around. I could feel it weighing down on my leg. I moved to unclip it from my belt and set it don on the seat in front of me. There, no you can look at me smugly face to face instead of hiding on my belt like the coward you are. I opened it up, hoping that I might somehow have had a change of heart.

Nope.

Sadly not.

Still going to Port Royal then.

The aching in my chest that had never really stopped prepared me for that outcome, so it was no real surprise. I kept my Compass open in front of me even though I knew exactly here it was leading me. I hoped that my heart would change its mind before I got there. Doubtful, it's broken. I'd have to replace it with a whole new one from someone else.

Wish I had taken Jones's when I'd had the chance.

This was the second time that I had arrived in Port Royal on my on in a tiny little boat with absolutely no idea and not a single care about what the future had in store for me. Looking at it, not much had changed, but in reality… everything had. I wondered how safe it would be for me to tie up my boat at the docks. Probably not safe at all. Would George have thought me coming here would be possible enough for me to be an active threat here?

I jumped out of the dingy as it hit the sand to pull it further up the beach. Would she have thought that I would come back for…

I stopped.

For what?

Revenge? Answers?

Her?

I stared at the sand for a second.

Why am I here?

And where am I going?

For the first time in a very long time there was a moment where I didn't feel anything at all. There was no pain for a moment, but it wasn't as pleasant as I had day dreamed it would be because it wasn't as if there was any happiness either. I was just numb. Cold. This might be worse. I didn't know what to do or why I was doing it. Everything inside me just seemed completely blank- not in a new and refreshing kind of way like blank parchment or empty sand- but in a tired and worn-down kind of way.

Why am I doing this?

Why?

My Compass weighed down on my hand, encouraging me or taunting me, I was never sure. I sighed and looked down at it. Alright, alright, let's go. I started walking in the general direction that it was leading me, or dragging me… I was never quite sure. I say 'general direction' because I took a fair few diversions along the way. Sometimes they were diversions out of necessity- I wanted to take the routes I thought fewer Goons would be lurking around on in case one of them spotted me. Other times I took diversions of avoidance and procrastination, often trying to turn back and ignore the angry rattle of my Compass. Eventually, reluctantly, it brought me to a house that looked just as grand as the others around it, but caused my stomach to drop to my knees.

This is it.

She's in there.

I stared at the door in the fading daylight.

What do I do?

Knock?

The big brass knocker on the door stared sternly back at me.

no… I don't think that would go very well.

This might not even be her house, what if she's just visiting someone else?

I put my hand on the door and gave it a small push. It creaked open slightly. I froze.

It's open.

How unsafe.

Anyone could wander in…

that works out in my favour actually.

I pushed it again and it opened a little further. Nobody on the other side of it said anything, so I assumed that there was nobody there to say anything. My heart began to beat incredibly violently in my chest.

Quite down now, or someone will hear you and think that it's me knocking.

I pushed the door once more, a little harder than before until it was open just wide enough for me to slip inside. When I did so, the reason for slightly lax door security became a little more apparent. Standing in the cool of the entrance hallway I could hear chatter and laughter from a room at the other end that signified there was some kind of high-toned and fancy to-do going on. Is that all that ever happens here? I glanced up and for a moment my heartbeat calmed down because I saw her. Not really her, but a portrait of her and her brother. The Commodore, then not much older than a boy, stood up straight and proud, looking off into the distance in a way that I'm sure he thought was noble and brave but wasn't. She, just a young girl but unmistakable, seemed to be looking directly at me, or whoever had painted it, with a small yet defiant smile on her lips. It was a look I knew well.

Where did that look go?

I stared at it for a few moments longer.

At least I know this is her house…

Bugger.

I heard the faint sound of a door shutting somewhere uncomfortably close to my left-hand side. I bolted away from it, into the shadows of the stairs that lead up from that great entrance hall and had got myself just above eyelevel before someone walked in to it. I stopped and watched them disappear into the room with all the noise. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding in and made my way quietly up the rest of the stairs.

I didn't know what I was looking for until I found it. Her room. I had tried various ones, but the moment I stepped in, I knew. Her smell was faint but it stopped me in my tracks. I stepped into the dark room and then let it wrap around me for a moment or two.

If I woke up right now and found that this was a dream I wouldn't be surprised.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark I made out a few shapes in the room around me and made my way towards the table I could see to my right. I lit a candle that was placed there and looked around.

Oh.

Oh.

This was nothing like I expected.

Now that I was thinking about it, I wasn't sure what I expected I just knew that this wasn't it. This wasn't her. That big bed was the same as any other and there was nothing to distinguish this room from the rest of the house. For a moment I doubted that it was hers at all. I walked over to where the wardrobe door was standing slightly open and peeked inside. Rows of dresses, all basically the same in varying levels of grandeur peeked back at me.

These are probably hers.

Probably not George's… although you never know.

I glanced at her bedside table hoping to see something I could associate with her. Nothing. Nothing about this room was her.

Or was it?

How would I know?

I started to feel dizzy.

Help me.

God, it's stuffy in here.

The window… the window… maybe I can jump out of it and leave.

I opened it and felt better, deciding to hold off throwing myself out of it… at least for now. I walked around for a while, trying to picture the Isabelle I knew in this room. Living here. Sleeping here. Being happy here. I couldn't. I felt too cooped up and suffocated in this one room to guess at how someone who wasn't me might feel.

It took a while, but eventually I heart people begin to disperse from the party and move around the house. I was restless, itchy. Hurry up.

I want this over with.

I just want to be free again.

I heard people starting to leave and the house grew quiet again. Then, too soon, there were footsteps in the hallway outside. Bugger. The footsteps stopped in the doorway for a moment and I found myself holding my breath. This was a mistake. What if it isn't her? I stretched my fingers, wondering when it was that I had balled them into a fist. They strained towards my Compass with a longing to know if it was her standing in the doorway, but I didn't let them get there. Patience. My throat was suddenly dry and my feet wanted to be standing anywhere but here. What if it isn't her? What if it's George? What if he sees me? What if I get caught?

Maybe that would be better… maybe facing the gallows would be better than facing her.

She ran into the room and everything I was froze on the spot. Her hair had been scraped away from her face and mostly confined and pinned up in a way I had only seen a few times before. And they had never been good times. It was similar to the way she'd had it at my attempted execution. Nothing compared to the soft, loose curls she had on my ship. Maybe she prefers it this way. It was elegant and it was beautiful, but it was not her… or, at least, it was not the her that I thought I knew. But maybe this is her. Really her. Maybe that dress was her too. I could never give her that. A silk gown that trailed along the ground as she ran to the open window would never have been practical on a pirate ship. The skirt jutted out so far from her hips that I was sure there were places on the Pearl that it wouldn't fit. The slam of the window when she shut it barely cut across the thrum of my heartbeat and the blood rushing in my ears. She shut the curtains and I thought she relaxed for a moment, but her corset was so tight she could barely let out a sigh. Her fingers moved quickly on her head, relaxing and unpinning her hair from the way it was pinned. Soon she would start to look more like herself… apart from the dress.

There's no mistaking what that dress is, Jack-y.

No excusing it.

It was unmistakably her wedding dress. My stomach knotted painfully inside me. Is this her wedding night? My throat felt dry and I wished more than ever that I had just stayed in Tortuga where I would have some lovely rum to fix the dryness in my throat. What if this is her wedding night? What if George is coming up here soon to join her?

I sprung forward and for a moment I thought I was going to throw up, but instinctively my hand shot out and slammed the door that was beside me. She didn't scream or call out, but she jumped at the sound and turned around to face me.

"Hello, Belle," her name spilled out of me for the first time in weeks and I was worried that the rest of me would spill out with it.

Her wide eyes shone in the candlelight, but she couldn't even look at me. She almost looked upset. I felt my hands begin to shake. Upset? Upset? What gives you the bloody right to be upset? Her mouth opened as she stared at the ground in front of me and her lips formed quietly around my name. A small whisper that nearly sent me over the edge. My stomach felt so incredibly tight and painful that I couldn't get any more words out. My name from her lips hung in the air between us. For the longest time her wide, upset eyes stared at nothing in disbelief. Thought you were rid of me, huh? Then she blinked and looked up at me, finally meeting my gaze. Some of the hurt vanished from her eyes. I think it was soaked up by mine. I felt it nestle into what was left of my heart. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice still quiet, a frown on her face. She folded her arms across her chest.

Oh you're angry now?

Angry?It seemed somehow worse than upset. More offensive.

You're angry that I dared to come here? Angry I ruined your wedding night with George? Angry I wouldn't just quietly disappear from your happy little life?

"Don't worry," I told her and was proud of myself for speaking and even more proud that I managed to keep my tone icy and cold. I wasn't ready to let her know everything I was feeling. How she had effected me. How just seeing her again had made me struggle to speak at all. "I won't be here long. I just want answers."

"Answers?" her voice was just as cold as mine. What? Don't you think I deserve them? Her eyes hardened to me, the initial shock of my appearance wearing off. "I don't know anything that could possibly be of any use to you, so please leave me alone." She took a step backwards away from me.

Fuck you.

You think it'll be that easy?

That I'll go away just like that?

I took a few deep breaths, hoping it would calm me down, but the extra oxygen just seemed to fuel the fire inside me. "Why didn't you wait for me?" the question rose up and poured out. She flinched and then her frown deepened.

"What…?"

Oh please don't insult me anymore by feigning innocence.

I thought you were better than that.

"You didn't go back to the Pearl like you promised. Or were you part of their plan too?"

"There was no Pearl for me to go back to," anger flared up in her own eyes. She stood up a little taller and glared at me. Even in the candlelight, all of the softness was gone from her face. "You left me."

Lies.

I know you don't love me, but I'd thought you at least liked me. Liked me enough to tell the damn truth.

"So you were part of it?" I took a step towards her, wrestling desperately with the new knowledge of who she was and the image of the person I had wanted her to be… the image I still clung to when I looked at her. "You helped them?" I feel sick. "What were you meant to be? A distraction? Or was the mutiny your idea, just so you could get away and come back here and marry him? I should have known! That's all you ever wanted!"

Her eyes were wide. Guilt? Fear? I don't care. "Jack-" she tried to cut across me, but anything she had to say now just felt flimsy and hollow.

This was a mistake.

What could she possibly tell me that would make this any better?

"Well it worked, you'll be pleased to hear." I told her and she shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line. "I've lost the Pearl and I have no hope of getting her back. I can't follow the compass, and do you want to know why?" I didn't wait for her to answer. "Because of you. It took me back here. You broke the bloody thing! I don't want to be here! It took me to what I want least in this world… I don't want you. I hate you."

I wish that were true.

She flinched again in the aftermath of my words. "They…" she took a shaky breath. "They mutinied… again?"

Oh, please.

"As if you didn't know!" I couldn't even look at her face anymore. How could I have been so wrong about a person? How could she care so little about me to lie to my face about this? She took a step towards me. I backed away from her.

"I didn't," she said and the gentleness of her voice seemed out of place with all my anger.

"I don't know why I bothered coming here," I said and my throat was dry once again. All of the moisture was in my eyes.

All I wanted was the truth.

I need to get out of here.

It's difficult to breathe.

I turned away from her.

"I love you!" she said desperately and I stopped.

Why?

Why are you tormenting me like this?

I turned to look at her, standing in the dress she had worn to marry a man who wasn't me. The ridiculousness of those words from her mouth now was enough to draw a laugh from me that hurt more than a sob. "If that were true, why would you be wearing that?"

She looked down as if she didn't know what dress she was wearing. As if she could forget her own wedding. She stared shaking her head at me and looked back up. What? What are you going to try and tell me now? That this is what you wear to bed every night? Come on. Let's hear how stupid you really think I am. "I don't want to be here. I didn't know about the mutiny… I thought you… I thought you'd left…"

Weak.

That was weak, Belle.

"I don't have to listen to this!" I started to turn away from her again. This was not what I wanted. I thought she was at least decent enough to see that she owes me the truth.

"How could you think I want this?!" the sheer volume of her words stopped me again. They seemed to rip painfully from her throat. "How could you think I would chose living like this over freedom?!" I glanced around at the elegant and expensive things in her room, the fine material of that damn gown. She lowered her voice a little, "How could you think I'd choose George over you?"

"Because you did," it took me a moment to realise that I had said it out loud.

"No," she shook her head. "No. No. I didn't."

Tears began to spill out of her eyes. I hated each one of them more than the last.

"Really? Really? Because it looks to me like you've just married him."

She ran her hands down the material of her dress, as if that might somehow change what she was wearing. "No, it's just a fitting… I was just trying it on… the wedding isn't today. It's-"

"I don't care when it is, Belle," I snapped. She sniffed and there was a moment of silence. Her lips were trembling and she looked away from me for a moment to regain her composure.

"Jack, please listen to me."

"If you want me to listen, stop lying to me, love." She closed her eyes for a moment, as if I had somehow insulted her. She took a deep breath. Enough stalling. "I should have known. You were so bloody eager to get away from me and back to him-"

"Jack-"

"Did you know he was going to be in Tortuga? Is that why you agreed to come?"

"Jack," she almost shouted it. I stopped. Her voice dropped a little. "I didn't know. I didn't know he was going to be there when we were. I wasn't lying when I told you I just wanted to say goodbye to him, but when I got over there…"

She stopped. "What?" I prompted. "You remembered everything about your old life, missed it? Remembered that George was a far more suitable match for you than I could ever be? Realised that-"

"No!" she snapped. "When I was over there I looked out to sea and saw that the Pearl was sailing away from me. I never thought… I never knew that there had been another mutiny."

"What did you think?"

"I thought you'd left me," she whispered. I stared at her in all of her misery. In all of my misery. She swallowed. "I thought you'd changed your mind. I thought you didn't love me anymore." I didn't say anything. I couldn't. "And George had been telling me about the deal he'd made with James before he died. My hand in marriage and a promotion… it means nothing to me, Jack, but I had nowhere else to go. The Pearl is the only real home I've ever known and it was…" she stopped.

"It was sailing away from you," I finished. She nodded. We looked at each other and the room felt less stormy. "It was sailing away from me too, love."

She nodded, gulped. "I didn't know."

I looked at her for a long time, wanting so desperately to believe her, breathing deeply as if I had just run here from Tortuga and every word I had ever wanted to say tried to get out of my throat at once and they all blocked each other. Her cheeks were still damp with tears, but she was crying a little less now. "You didn't know," I repeated, more for myself than for her.

"I didn't know," she said again. "Please, Jack, you have to believe me. I love you."

"You do?"

She nodded furiously and gently took a hold of both of my hands. "You are what I want, Jack. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go." Once again, I couldn't speak. She let go of one hand and slowly moved it to my Compass. She took it off my belt, opened it and turned to show it to me. "See," she murmured. "It's you. You are all I want, Jack." She reached up and wiped a mysterious wet patch under my eye. When did that get there?

"I love you," I whispered before her lips met mine. Softly. Gently.

I've missed this.

She was nervous. As if I would disappear again from under her very lips.

Would she from under mine?

I reached out and touched her hips. They were so solid. So real. She's back. She's with me. I held on a little tighter, pulled her body a little closer. She placed a gentle hand on my cheek and her kiss deepened. I felt the warmth of her body through the material of her dress as I ran my hands from her hips to the small of her back. My Compass dropped from her hand to the ground and I felt her fingers run up the length of my arm towards my shoulder. Every inch of skin she touched prickled slightly with a low heat that was slowly starting to move through me. It reminded me of the first time I had ever kissed her, that desperate fire that had burned within me. Sparks of it that had been dampened for so long were starting to ignite once more. I pulled back to look at her. She opened her eyes and when they looked up at me they were wide, expectant. Her lips were still parted from our kiss. I had to take a breath.

I have my Belle back.