Sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Last week I had a lot of homework. Algebra 2 freaking sucks! And I wasn't feeling very inspired. But I'll try to do better. Thanks to all who reviewed.

A Talk with Jack

Isobel walked towards where she knew Captain Jones kept Jack Sparrow. She longed to ask him about James, to hear her true love's name spoke out loud. She didn't think anyone would be with him now so she had decided to risk a visit. She hadn't slept the whole night. When she wasn't working, she lay awake in her bunk reminiscing about her time with James or contemplating Bill's words.

She sneaked down below decks silently. When she neared the cell that Jack was being kept in, she paused and took a deep breath. She was afraid of what Jack might tell her. What if James had died shortly after he saw her? What if he was married? She knew she shouldn't be upset about that. He thought she was dead. She wanted him to be happy. If it took another woman to make him so, then so be it. But still her blood boiled with jealousy and her eyes filled with tears of hurt every time she thought about it. What if he had forgotten her? She forced herself away from that line of thinking and cautiously turned the corner before the cell. A big guard with a head almost like that of a hammerhead shark stood with his arms crossed in front of the door. Isobel would have to get past him to get to Jack.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

Isobel thought quickly. "I'm to question the prisoner," she hissed, pulling out her large knife and brandishing it, "Captain's orders."

The man looked warily at the knife. Isobel had developed a reputation for being quite ruthless during her fifteen years of service. Being the only female on the crew, the men had at first tried to take advantage of her. She let them know in no uncertain terms that she would be having none of it. They had been surprised that such ferocity could come from so petite a woman. Each of them now tread cautiously around her whenever she had a knife out.

"Captains orders?" the man questioned.

"Would I be down here if it was not true?!" she snarled, "Now open this door."

He made no move for the keys. "Why is he not with you?"

"You think the captain does not have matters more important to see to?" she exclaimed. She took a step closer to him and held the knife inches away from his neck. "If you don't let me in right now," she whispered menacingly, "You will feel my blade, and then I will deliver you to the captain. How do you think he would react if he found you were disregarding his orders?"

He frowned down at her skeptically. "How do I know you're not lying?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to chance it?"

He studied her for a moment longer then stepped aside. He took out the keys and opened the door. "Don't take to long," he ordered, "And if I hear anything out of the ordinary, I'm coming in."

Isobel glared at him before stepping into the cell and slamming the door closed behind her. It was so dim that it took her eyes a moment to adjust. When they finally did, she saw Jack lying on his back against the far wall. He was humming softly, but he cut off when she came into the room. "Oh, a visitor!" he exclaimed, sitting up, "Good, good. I hope you've brought rum."

Isobel rolled her eyes with a sigh. In the brief time she had known Jack, he had been rather… odd. If he was still in high spirits- and asking for rum of all things- he must have gotten worse. "Do you remember me, Jack?" she asked.

He jerked around to face her. "He has women on this ship? It's bad luck."

"I don't think he's too worried. I took his offer; I'm paying the price like everyone else. What of my question?"

He looked at her another moment. Then recognition slowly dawned in his eyes. "Isobel Bryant!" he exclaimed, "The young pirate lass! You've… You look… Well," He scrunched up his nose in distaste as he took in the sight of her. "Let's just say, you've looked better."

Isobel felt like hurling her knife at him. She felt like lying down on the cold damp floor and sobbing until she could sob no more. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs in anguish. But she knew she couldn't do any of those things. The first, although it would give her brief satisfaction, it wouldn't answer any of her question, and she knew that the captain would not be happy about it at all. The second would make him think she was a pitiful sniveling wretch, and she would not have that. And the third would make him think she was a loon. So she did her best to smooth her features and appear calm. She forced her voice to sound calm. "I didn't come down here to discuss my looks with you, Jack Sparrow. I want to ask you some questions."

He lifted a finger and raised one of his eyebrows. "Ah, but what if I don't want to answer them?" he asked.

She lunged at him with the knife, glad for a reason to vent her aggression. She brought the blade to a stop only inches before his face. "I suggest you answer them," she growled dangerously through clenched teeth, "Or I'll make you wish you had."

"Easy, love," Jack chuckled, pushing away the knife, "I didn't say I wasn't going to. I was just curious as to how important these answers were going to be to you, and by your reaction, it seems that they are very important indeed. Ask away."

Isobel's anger rose at his cool manner and easy banter, but again she forced down her emotions. "I wanted to ask you about a mutual acquaintance of ours…." She trailed off, still fearing that James might be married or sick or dead.

"You're going to have to be more specific, love."

"I was wondering what you knew about a man called James Norrington."

"Ah, the commodore! Or, well, the late commodore at least."

Isobel's eyes widened. Her James was all that? Why? She had heard nothing of him since she became part of Jones's crew. Every time she heard talk of Port Royal or the navy, she stopped listening to the conversation. Talk of that kind was too painful for her. It inevitably made her think of James.

"Why," Jack continued, drawing his brows together quizzically, "Might I ask, are you asking about our beloved commodore?" There was obvious sarcasm in his voice.

Tears filled her eyes at the word 'beloved.' He was her beloved. Oh, how she missed those all too brief nights of talking and making love with James. "I knew him a long time ago," she said finally, her eyes taking on a far away look as she remembered the past, "We were… close. You saw him with me once, although I doubt you'd remember it. You were very intoxicated that night."

Jack's eyes widened a bit, and Isobel knew that he had guessed what her relationship with James was. Her suspicion was confirmed with his next words. "You were lovers."

It was not a question but she snapped, "Yes! But I am asking the questions here." She paused and drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This would all be for nothing if she angered Jack and he refused to tell her anything. She forced her voice to sound less angry. "Could you tell me how he is?" Please, she prayed in her mind, say he's alive. Say he's well.

"Last I saw him we were on an island," Jack responded, "All fighting over that bloody chest, your Norrington among us. And what bloody good did it get me? Nothing! Anyways, I don't know what happened to him after that or if he's even alive. Sorry, love."

Isobel squeezed her eyes shut at the tears that threatened to fall out. So he didn't know. Well, maybe James was back in Port Royal safe. She would give anything to ensure that he was safe. Then a startling thought came to her. What if James had the heart? Jack didn't have it, and he said that they had all been fighting over the chest. If James had it, when Jones found out he would go after him and kill him. She couldn't let that happen. If he died, she couldn't bear to live. Swiftly, lest she burst into tears right there, Isobel pushed the thoughts out of her mind. "Will you tell me all that you know of him?" she asked of Jack, "What he is like now. Things like that."

Isobel listened intently as Jack starting to speak.