Author's note: Okay, so I figured I'd attempt writing fanfiction again. As of right now I'm actually really happy with this one. Reviews are welcomed, especially good ones.

Disclaimer: I'd love to own some really nice warmblood horses, train with an Olympic rider, and live in Wellington, but I'm not a millionaire. Thus, proving that I own nothing in the movie. The only thing I own is an extreme case of boredom, a keyboard, and Claire. Not much, eh?

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"May I speak to you for a moment outside, Mistress Reynolds?" A young man said from behind the auburn haired woman.

"Of course you may," she said setting down her wine glass. "Give me one moment."

She kneeled next to her son sitting in the chair next to her who had remained silent through the entire event and was therefore permitted by all of the other adults to stay at the table. "Stay here, and quiet while I go talk to this kind gentleman outside." From there she stood up, and took the liberty of excusing herself from the table.

She appeared a few moments later through the open doors that led to the balcony. She enjoyed coming out on this particular balcony as she had an unobstructed view of the ocean, but for some odd reason standing out on the Balcony under the stars on this particular night she had an unsettling feeling, that she couldn't say she appreciated much.

"Mistress Reynolds," The man begun. "Brace yourself for what I'm about to tell you." He inhaled quickly. "Your husband is no longer with us. His ship was attacked by pirates and sunk, what we assume was a couple of hours later. Only a few men survived the ordeal, they were put into one of the smaller boats and sent off, and were picked up by another merchant ship, by luck. The ship's captain was kind enough to drop the men off here." He took another breath. "They say that's what your husband asked them to do."

"D-did they say wh-what ship caused them to-to, go down?" She said breaking down into tears at the last words, despite her efforts to keep them bottled up inside of her.

"Yes, Ma'am; the Black Pearl." And with that he put a comforting hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry," he said going inside to give her a moment alone.

Anne wiped away the tears falling out of her hazel colored eyes, finding it unfair that it had to be her husband who died. They were good practicing Christians, they had a son, were part of good society, and George had never done anything to hurt anyone except for in self-defense. She shook her head; she always knew she'd hear those words one day.

After a few heart breaking moments, she walked inside with tears still running down her cheeks. She wiped them off as she sat down in her seat, as though nothing had happened. Her arm went around her son's shoulder and she kissed the top of his head, before picking up her wine glass and swishing around the red liquid that filled it.

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James watched Anne as she walked into the room with the tears in her eyes; it wasn't like her to cry. He had only seen her cry one other time, and that was at the funeral of her late son. Which defiantly set off warning signals in his mind, he wondered if anyone else in the room saw or cared that Anne's usually rosy cheeks were now incredibly pale and had tears rolling down them in a rhythmic fashion.

He stood up, and walked around the table to where she was, and placed a hand on her shoulder. He leaned down just enough to be at her ear level and said, "Mistress Reynolds, would you like to tell me what is going on?"

Anne shook her head, but she stood up and walked James out onto the balcony where she had just heard the news that broke her heart. "George's," She started, making James feel awkward she never addressed Mister Reynolds in public by his first name. "Ship was sunk, by Pirates on his route." And with that more tears burst out of her eyes.

"Oh, Mistress Reynolds," James said as he put his arms around her in a comforting hug. "This is why I wish all pirates to go to the deepest pits of hell." He could feel her whole body shaking from grief under his arms. This wasn't fair to her.

The usually powerful woman felt so small and frail under his arms, even though she was barley an inch shorter and she ate every meal of the day, she felt hardly a foot tall and hardly a pound heavy. He wasn't sure if this was a safe time to ask if she knew which ship had caused her such pain, but he swore to himself that he would find that ship and avenge Mister Reynolds, who did happen to be one of the Commodore's good friends. "By whom, may I inquire, providing you know?"

After another short burst of tears she said in a weak voice, "The Black Pearl."

The name made James freeze, and his mouth dropped open. No matter how much he disapproved of Jack Sparrow's pirating ways he had earned the Commodore's respect. There was no way that Jack Sparrow would have sunk a ship, intentionally, even if it was richly loaded. Or would he? After all Jack Sparrow was still a pirate. "I will find the Black Pearl, Mistress Reynolds I promise."

After he felt her arms rise up and sink back down one last time he broke away from their embrace. She seemed to be doing a little better; new tears had stopped forming and now the old tears were just finishing their path down her cheeks. "Are you going to be alright, Mistress Reynolds?" James asked her.

"Yes, thank you Commodore, I shall feel better soon," She paused. "That is if you promise me something.." James looked at her confused what would she want him to do for her?

What Anne said next nearly knocked him off his feet. "You're taking me with you when you go after the Black Pearl."

James shook his head. "I absolutely will not do such a thing, Mistress Reynolds!" He was concerned for her safety; a pirate hunt was no place for a woman, especially not a woman like Miss Reynolds. "I will not risk your life on such a thing."

The Commodore made a move to walk off, but she got a hold on his arms near his elbows. He was shocked by how strong she was, he couldn't simply shake her grip and for some odd reason he got the impression that she was not using all of her strength to keep him there either. "Please, Commodore Norrington, do this for me.."

"We shall see, Mistress Reynolds." The Commodore said giving in; he knew he'd regret his words. "It would not be very appropriate to bring you along, and very dangerous. The ocean is not a place for a woman." He felt her grip on his arms tighten, and then loosen quickly. She appeared to be sorry at how tightly she had just squeezed his arms. This was not the attitude he wanted on his ship, someone being sorry for squeezing his arm, what they considered, was too tightly.

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If only James knew why Anne had really let go of his arms so fast, he never would have guessed the real reason and she was alright with that. "Thank you, Commodore." She said as she walked back into the room in a slightly lighter mood. She sat down at her seat, swirled her wine in its glass once more, and drank the entire glass in one swift movement. A servant filled her glass up for her, and she set that glass down and waited for a better opportunity to drink it.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as she talked to her son, Jackson. He walked in slowly, and sat back down, and throughout the duration of the evening his eyes always found their way to her.