A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading, and if you did, reviewing! Sorry it took a little longer than I thought to get this up... I've been sort of discouraged and had writers block. ( I know, already!) Anyway, please read this chapter and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Do not own PotC but I own ze collecters editions and the books...And the plot... And maybe Jack.. Maybe?

pouts Fine, not Jack.

Isabelle's POV:

Jack and I walked along the sandy shore in darkness. We hardly spoke, it was awkward really. Neither of us had anything to talk about at the moment. I glanced over at him and noticed his belt, fully equipped with a long sword and pistol.

We continued up the path from the shore leading to Charlotte's tavern. It wasn't far away from the docks so that porting sailors would be sure to see the tavern. Jack and I came to a halt as we reached the front of it, as we had many years ago.

The tavern was large and old looking: It's brown painted wood was chipped, the door looked ready to be broken off it's hinges, and it had four tall stories. The chimney was heaping black smoke out of it, meaning Charlotte had lit the evening fire herself.

I usually did this dirty task, along with all the rest excluding managing the money and supplies, being the barista, and welcoming guests and leading them to their rooms if they decided to stay: Those were Charlotte's jobs.

She didn't trust me handling guests or money. Just placing orders for food and drink, as was my task tonight.To the public it closed at sundown, probably so she wouldn't have a lot of conflict with pirates. She was terrified of them too, just as Lady Dower was and most of Port Royal's ladies.

"Wait out here, would you?" I asked Jack as I was preparing myself to go in. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and winced. I was terrified as to how Charlotte would react to this. She was a fierce, strong woman who wore men's clothing quite frequently.

She wasn't like those proper ladies who wore their hair up and wore corsets and dresses. She was quite content dressing the way she did. When I had asked small things of her before, I was slapped and told to leave her. "Ungrateful" she called me.

Of coarse there had been worse times. A few punches. But didn't everyone hit their child? Not that I was her child, but I thought that it must be normal. Once, I had an accident.

I was washing dishes one night and accidently dropped one and it broke. She yelled at me that it was worth more than me and grabbed the nearest weapon in reach, a rum bottle, and on rushed me until near death. No, my life had not been easy.

But she wasn't always like that. Sometimes, she was almost like a friend. We'd tell jokes and laugh and everything would seem alright. It was just those bad days, when I would set off her temper by doing something wrong.

In the most recent encounter, I was late from getting oranges at the market, and when I came home Charlotte was drunk. She kicked me until I was coughing up blood. And nobody knew, nobody ever found out that sometimes, Charlotte hit her step-daughter.

And I planned to keep it that way. What would people think? That I was just some rag doll that could be pushed around? And it wasn't her fault, she just couldn't control her temper. Or maybe they'd think I deserved it...

I thought about running away once or twice when it got pretty bad. But what was the point? She fed me, even if it was hardly anything sometimes, and she let me have my own room. What was the point of running away? Things, I supposed, could be far worse. And Jack had promised me he would come back, and I would be away from all this. And Jack did come back.

I clenched my fist and sighed.

When I finally opened my eyes, Jack was staring at me with a curious and a confused look. I just ignored him and, taking a few steps forward, opened the door and walked in.

The smell of alcohol and burning wood filled my lungs as the door swung shut. Everything looked the way I left it, chairs neatly tucked back under their tables, floors swept, and everybody cleared out from the first two floors. Guests' accommodations and Charlotte's room were on the third floor, and mine in the attic.

Things were looking up. I thought I might be able to slip away undetected from Charlotte. But she was still awake, and drunk, sitting at the corner by the bar, a rum bottle clutched in her many-ringed fingers.

"Where have yoo been?" She asked in a cold, slurred tone. I knew that tone. I had to get out of here, quickly, or I wouldn't leave tonight, just like the night I was getting oranges.

Charlotte stood up and flung the nearly-empty bottle of rum at me, only to be smashed in the wall and shatter. A piece of glass cut across my cheek, leaving a deep cut.

"Out havin' fun again? I wen up to the market. Yoo weren' thereee..." Charlotte slurred as she drew nearer.

I backed into the wall. I looked around for a way out, but the stairs were behind her and I needed to get my things.

"Charlotte. Charlotte your drunk. I have something to tell you." Panic rose up into my throat, lodging there like a tooth pick in-between teeth.

"I'm leaving, Charlotte. I'm going to leave you. I'm almost of age and I'm..." I whispered, my heart beat quickening. Charlotte must have heard, because she was at me then. I slid down the wall, clutching for my knees. I curled up into a ball, awaiting the inevitable.

She kicked me feircly in the side and I yelped in pain, for I already had a massive bruise there.

She then preceded to kick me sponultaneously in the same spot. "Shoould 'av never taken yoo in! Yoo good fer nuthin... Think yoo can jus leave?"

I waited for the next kick, squinting my eyes. But then I opened them right back up. Jack had opened the door and was peering inside. He saw me on the floor and a woman kicking me. He took out his pistol, cocked it, and pointed it directly at Charlotte.

Charlotte must not have heard him come in though, because she kept kicking me. It didn't hurt as much anymore, maybe the sight of Jack had given me strength. But I was also ashamed.

Jack walked over to Charlotte and used the pistol to knock her on the head. She clutched at the spot for a split-second, staggered backwards, and fell with a thump onto the floor. Charlotte was out cold.

I suppressed a sob and turned onto my back. Silent tears trickled down my face. Why did Jack have to see this? He rushed over to me, knelt down, and looked me over. My stomach lurched and, the panic still in place, gagged.

"Shh...Shh..." Jack whispered, holding back my hair.

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Jack's POV:

I was standing by the tavern's door, where Isabelle told me to wait when I heard a crash from inside. ' Well tha's curious...' I thought, and I opened the door. Isabelle was lying on the floor, and a woman was standing over her kicking her.

" Oh bugger." I said, pulling out my pistol and cocking it. I pointed it at the crazed woman, but she hadn't heard me come in. I crept over to them and, ever so politely, hit her full on in the head - knocking her out.

Isabelle turned over on her back and threw up. Now that I could see her face I saw a long cut on her cheek with some blood trickling out of it. I pulled the hair out of her face so that she didn't get spew on it.

"Shh..Shh...What happened, darling?" I asked, confused and trying to comfort her and wanting to know what had gone on.

Isabelle shut her eyes tightly, just like she had done before she came in here, and then opened them. She was crying. I never know what to do when woman cry. I just patted her on the head and repeated my self in a more caring tone.

"What happened?"

"Nothing... We just got into a fight..." Isabelle said, wiping away her tears.

I raised my eyebrows and helped her sit up. Then, after pulling herself together, Isabelle stood up and went up the stairs, and I followed her. We went up two more flights of stairs, and then we reached her room. Or the attic. It didn't look like much of a room. It had no windows. I couldn't bare being shut up in here, where you couldn't even see the sea.

There was a thin blue rag on the floor, which I'm guessing was her blanket. Isabelle walked over to a lace wood box that went up to her knees. She kneeled and lifted up a few articles of clothing, probably checking if something was in it. Then she lifted it up and walked over to the "blanket".

"You wont be needin' that." I told Isabelle when she tried putting it in the box. I walked over to her and took the box from her in one hand, and put the other around her shoulder.

" 'Av you ever been on a ship?" I asked as we walked out of the room, slowly drawing nearer to said object.

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When we finally got to the docks all the street lamps had been lit. I crossed the gang plank with Isabelle silently following. Then I heard a thump and turned around. Isabelle was on the ground. "Did ya fall?" I asked her, extending my arm. She took my hand, and, as she did I noticed a tattoo on her hand. I grabbed her palm in both hands and looked at it.

The tattoo was of a skull and crossed bones inside a small circle, and the small circle inside of a larger one. It was done in black ink.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, awestruck. "What's a young lass doing with a tattoo? Especially of this?" She obviously didn't know.

"I've had it since I can remember. My mum said it was a curse from the Devil." Isabelle told me, pulling back her hand and studying it.

"You mean a curse from your father..." I mumbled. Isabelle looked at me with her mouth open.

"How do you know my father?" She asked incredulously. Now I've done it. Best get her on the ship first or she'll want to turn back.

"Now, now, Isabelle. 'Tis not the time fer questions, and when it is you'll find out everything you'll need to know. Savvy? Now onto the ship." I said nervously, putting my arm around her waist and leading her onto the Pearls deck.

"Heres the crew." I said, leading Isabelle over to where Gibbs, Cotton, Pintel, Marty and Regetti were grouped by a mast.

"Oh, Capt'n. We were jus' wonderin when ya'd be back." Gibbs said, gesturing to the rest of the crowd.

"Yes. Well, this here'd be Isabelle. She'll be staying with us. Isabelle, this is Mr. Gibbs " I said, introducing her to Gibbs. " And this is Regetti, Pintel, Marty, and Cotton. " I said pointing them out. They all said hello in a rather pathetic way. " And Anamaria is here somewhere... Mr. Gibbs, wheres Anamaria? "

"She'd be at the helm, Capt'n... but may I ask as to why were taking on another crew member? " Gibbs asked. He was eyeing Isabelle strangely, like she was a demon or something. I rolled my eyes. " No. You'll find out soon enough." I told him.

" Right... And do we have a heading, Capt'n?" Gibbs asked. "Err... " I said, taking out my compass. It spun around in random directions, and then stopped at South West. " In a general south west direction..." I told him and, leading Isabelle away, went to the helm.

"Anamaria, this is Isabelle. " I said, gesturing towards her. Anamaria held out her hand. "Nice to meet you." Isabelle took it.

"I heard your staying here." Anamaria stated. "Yes. " Isabelle said nervously. "Oh, so you heard?" I asked. "Great, no need for further introductions. I'll be showing Miss Teach here her cabin now, if you'll excuse us..." I said, taking her to my cabin first.

"This is my cabin." I said, striding over to the bureau and taking out some extra clothes similar to mine. "Put this on. I'll be back with some bandages for that cut on yer face." And I left.

Isabelle's POV:

Jack handed me some clothes that looked similar to his and left, saying that he'd be back with bandages. My side ached terribly now from earlier, and I started to feel faint. I walked over and sat on Jack's bed. I took off the Royal Navy jacket and the white shirt I was wearing under it so that I could see the bruise.

It went from my ribs down to my hips. It had grown about two inches in size and had turned a deeper purple. I also examined the other bruises and cuts on my stomach and hands from before. They seemed to be healing exceptionably. Happy, I stood up and took off the pants. Then the door opened and Jack walked in, in mid-sentence, carrying bandages and water.

"I've brought the -" He looked surprised for a moment, and then studied the marks on my body.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!