Chapter 2

Naturally, Isolde was shocked. She looked to James. He shrugged. Elizabeth nodded, Isolde sunk onto one of the near by sofas. She was shocked…no shocked didn't describe how she felt. She was beyond that. Alarmed? Surprised? How about astonished? Not even close. Not knowing what to do, she bent over holding her head in her hands and cried. Dear God. James sighed; he took a seat next to her and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her, close, a hollow satisfaction, he tried to comfort her. He might've kissed her, had it not been for the fact she pushed herself from him.

She stared blankly up to James.

"You knew," she furrowed her brow. His eyes grew wide, betraying his true feelings. His heart was slamming against the wall of his chest. She held her head in her hands, and quickly looked up to Elizabeth. "I have to see him,"

"Isolde,"

"James," she stood, a need engulfing her. "I have to see him,"

"He's in town," Elizabeth chimed. James gave her a look. Everything he had ever worked for, her love, her trust, everything that ever mattered to him, was threatening to come crashing down in the blink of his eye. Everything. And now she was with his child. Suddenly his current situation didn't look like it was envious.

"Isolde, you need to think about this," Norrington rushed out. She stood.

"Indeed I have," she looked to Elizabeth. "Take me to him," This can't be happening! He had to think, if she ever saw Sparrow, he'd tell her everything, about the murder, the lies, everything. He had to think fast, if he could keep her here long enough for him to explain to her, he'd be safe, but if she saw him. He sighed.

"Isolde, maybe you should wait till tomorrow, it's late, and besides, who would come to call on short notice?" James offered up grabbing her arm. She looked to him.

"James, there's a part of me that'll always belong to him, believe me, I thought it'd pass. But it's been there ever since he died, and has remained even when we married," she explained, there was no explaining it, she had to see him. The very idea of holding her pirate love again, and hearing his voice was too much for her. She pressed herself into her husband's grasp crying hysterically, like she did when she had first learned of Jack's death.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, her lips growing into a thin line.

"James, I'll just see myself out, if you don't mind," Elizabeth slipped from the room her friend's wife in hysterics. So maybe that wasn't the best thing to do…

Isolde had always loved to sleep in her husband's arms. Loved his embrace, his kiss, his touch, and his voice; from both of them. She curled up to herself. James had been trying to avoid her, when she received word he'd be spending night at his post at the fort. She had crumpled the paper in her hands and thrown it in the fire. She might've still loved Jack but that didn't mean she didn't love James anymore. Sleeping in a bed alone was a lot colder than when he was with her. That's okay; she was used to reaching for a man that wasn't there, before and after the marriage.

James hung in his hammock, swaying in the gentle breeze remembering what it was like to be a young Jack Tar. Hell. He'd been frightened. Course then he was only ten. His father had thrown him into service. James scoffed at thought to his father. And he was cursed with his namesake.

He shifted to his side, looking to the black wall. She'll be furious when he got home. And her fury generally led to making love in the stables…he gave a small laugh; they'd only did that once…long ago…back when she was still sober over Jack.

He remembered the first time they'd kissed too. It was a cool night for the Caribbean. Very cool. They were walking among the willows in the gardens of the governor's palace, attending a party Elizabeth was famous for. He let the memory sweep over him.

She had been dressed in a lavender dress that ruthlessly exposed her cleavage. A sliver cross draped over her smooth neck, and she smelled of roses. He took her hand; she looked up to him, his eyes holding something she could not interpret. He looked as if he might kiss her hand. But she was straight forward then as she is now. She took her hand away from him and instead pulled him closer locking her lips to his.

He'd been surprised. Felt her tense and then relax when he kissed her back. He had felt a lifetime of pent up passion. She didn't let him go for the longest time. When she let go from him she took one good look at him and said.

"I never noticed until now how tacky that wig looks on you," she said before going on. Ever since then he always tried to provoke that passion from her he'd felt in that kiss.

He was a fool. A dammed fool. He knew he should be with her right now making love to her, but he had been afraid of having to confront her. It had been ages, or so it felt, since he had felt her, and oddly enough once he tasted her he couldn't get enough. No those were the regular romantics…to whom he felt intimidated to join ranks with.

He rolled onto his back thoughts slipping into his mind. Yeah, he was sure that he was pretty much aching for her. Dammit, why didn't he just go home to her? She might've been pissed but she would've ended up with him one way or another, better to be near her than so far away.

Jack lay on the filthy sheets in the room he'd rented thinking. That arm of his still hurt when he moved it just so. That arm, the one Norrington had almost blown off. He remembered that. Feeling fine sound asleep out to sea, on a night in Tortuga, sleeping fine when he heard a gun cock; he thought for sure it was some whore he'd forgotten to pay.

"Don't move," Jack would know that accent anywhere. He looked up startled.

"Commodore," he'd smiled getting up on his elbows. "Now, if yer askin' fer trouble, then you might want to put that away, and while you think about it, maybe consider that I have a wife, and you've a career in the Navy, you remember that," Jack had smiled. It fell flat when Norrington didn't bother to lower the barrel.

"I'm not here for that," he had hissed. Jack became alarmed.

"Then what are you here for? This is safe haven for pirates mate," Norrington had stared unwavering.

"This is not between you and I as pirate to officer, Jack, but as two men," he pulled the trigger without aiming, and then ran.

Jack moved his arm. Still hurt, bloody bastard, and he was sure, as lonely as Isolde was had turned to him for her comfort. Jack snorted; he reached beside him, as he did habitually, expecting her to be there, to roll into his arms. He might just go over there and claim her now. But that'd be stupid, better for her to come to him, than for him to come to her.

Isolde paced the lobby; James had yet to show up, which he'll pay dearly for. And she was worrying over how she looked. After all she did want to show him she was still the delicate flower she was four years ago. Elizabeth was supposed to escort her. She'd been so anxious.

There was a knock, to which she answered and was greeted by Elizabeth.

"Hello, Isolde," she smiled sweetly to her friend. She nodded. Elizabeth gave her a sympathetic look. "Is James in?" Isolde shook her head. "Oh,"

"But when I do see him, there'll be hell to pay," Isolde had laughed.

Jack shook his head. Would she still love him? He thought for sure he had heard Elizabeth wrong until Will had slapped his jaw shut. He was nervous itching to hold her. Why had he delayed seeing her for so long? Jack brushed off the thought.

"Jack?" his heart nearly stopped when he heard her melodic voice. How missed it. He turned his head to see her. His heart must've stopped; sometime…she was dressed in lavender silk, her neckline exposing her beautiful neck and a silver cross draped over that. He reached for her without thinking and locked his lips to hers; giving her one of the most passionate kisses he could muster at the moment.

"Oh Isolde, if only you knew," he said to her, his arms wrapping around her. It was then she began to cry, horribly. Confused Jack held her face in his hand. "What's wrong love?"

"Oh, Jack, I feel that I've failed you," she cried to him.

"Oh, love no, you could never, I love you, and you got to quit blaming yourself for that," he said, hell if he knew what she was talking about.

"I wasn't talking about that, Jack,"

"Then what were you?"

"Why does James deserve to have your child when I could bare you none?" the words hit him. He looked to her.

"What?"

"Yesterday, you know my brother," Isolde looked to her hands. Jack pushed her away. She's with his child? How in the world? He watched her body racked with grief and emotions she couldn't share. He didn't understand. What was wrong, surly James would have told her the whole story. Jack shook his head. Not Admiral James Norrington. The man was spineless when it came to Isolde's legendary anger. He didn't blame him there had been times when Jack was down right frightened beyond his wits for having crossed her.

"Isolde you can't be,"

"I am…"

"You fucking slept with him?" Jack roared at her, he couldn't help it he had to let it out someway, and if he didn't say it, it would've just festered there and proven deadly.

"I am after all his wife!" Isolde stood clenching his fist.

"And you couldn't wait for me? Out to sea? So you fuck a man who spends his life out there without his wife from time to time?"

"Jack I was told you had died of fever! You didn't think I didn't cry for you? I still reach out for him half expecting to find you!" She shouted back. Jack gave her a burning stare.

"I didn't die of fever!" He hissed. "Your husband shot me!" with that Jack ripped off his shirt arm and exposed a horrible scar. Isolde looked to it her eyes becoming saucers. "That's right; he shot me, and missed,"

"And it took you four years to come home?"

"I was in England half the time," Jack shouted back. Isolde couldn't take it. She'd known Jack to lie to her on occasion, but not all the time. And she felt personally hurt, attacked, as if she really had betrayed him. She wanted curl up and die.

"England?"

"What other lies has he been feeding you eh? How he stayed by my deathbed till the very end? How even near death all I could think about was you?" He was now inches away from her face anger overcoming him. Isolde had never known Jack to lose his temper. "I wait, and bust my ass to get back to you and I find you fucked my best friend?" Jack had lost it completely, he needed something. The only thing Isolde could think to do was just cry.

"At least he cares for me!" she shouted before running out. Jack finally calmed down seeing her running out of the room crying. Well that went well.

James paced the halls, she hadn't returned, it had taken him all of his strength and courage to come here before he left for sea. He stopped and sighed, he was fretting over nothing, she loved him, and was faithful to him, so then…what did he have to worry about?

"James!" he cringed hearing his voice shouted in such a manner, heavy footsteps, and soon a very angry, confused and heartbroken Isolde stood before him. "James!" she hissed to him. He looked to her worried and before another thought could be wasted she threw him a punch on the jaw the likes of which he had never seen.

He picked himself from the floor; her anger (most of it anyway) had vanished, now replaced by sorrow. She couldn't help it she needed someone to hold her. She was after all a woman and had needs. She threw her arms around him and buried her face into his jackets crying harder than she had in a while.

James couldn't help but muse; this is how they ended up in bed half the time…he shook the untimely lust from his head. He had to hold her.

"Oh, James…" she cried, for the first time in years she felt helpless. "I don't know what to do…"

The fact that when he told her he was leaving for the sea soon enough like perhaps tomorrow didn't help things much either.

But as Isolde looked at him pace the floor in his loose breeches and shirt, she couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind. It wasn't the first time he had kept her up, with his excessive pacing. She yawned and sat up.

"James, come to bed," she said weakly. He looked to her.

"Go to sleep," it sounded harsher than he meant. She took in a sigh and left the warm bed.

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her arms around him, kissing his neck. James knew what she was up to, she'd done it before. She shed him of his shirt, but no more, it was something she always did. Silently James laughed; she had always thrown that shirt off him whenever he came to bed.

"I'm sorry too," he laid down next to her wrapping his smooth arms over hers. She sighed relaxing in his grip, snuggling close and burying her face in his bare chest, as she always did. She felt comforted when he held her. And he as she did. She reached up a hand and ran it through his lovely dark hair, she released a sigh.

"Still my dark eyed sailor…" she sighed softly drifting to sleep.