Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I've had so much to do with school. It's crazy! I have to write three freaking papers for this summer school I'm applying for, and it's really stressing me out. I also have a French project to finish that's due like in a few days, and I have to finish a freaking long book! Yeah, well, now since you've all heard (read actually… but w/e) my life's story, I'll get back to the real story. Oh, I also want to apologize for the last chapter sucking so badly. For some reason Jack is really hard for me to write. I don't want him to seem out of character, but it's really hard to keep him in character (for me at least). I also wasn't feeling very inspired when I last reviewed, but I think I'm back in the groove now so this should go better.

Reunion

Davy Jones sat at his organ staring gloomily down at the keys. He did not feel like playing much of late. He was worried. Absently, one long tentacle wriggled its way up to the spot at his chest where his key used to nestle. He still felt hot rage boiling inside him when it touched bare flesh instead of cold metal. He gritted his teeth against the anger that threatened to burst from him and sear everyone and everything within reach. When he found his heart… Oh he shivered with pleasure thinking of his revenge. Whoever had it would pay. Oh they would pay dearly indeed.

That line of thinking immediately shifted his attention to his prisoner. Jack Sparrow. He hadn't yet talked to the man at length, but something told him that Jack knew where he could find his heart. He had expected it to be with Jack when the Kraken took him, but alas it was not. Still, he thought that if Jack knew where to find it, he could strike some sort of deal with him. After all, striking deals was his specialty, and Jack Sparrow's life was in his hands. Resolved, Davy pushed himself out of his chair and began to make his way to the brig where he would find Sparrow… and some answers.

He stalked below deck in the dark dank passageways to the brig. As he neared Jack Sparrow's holding place, Maccus, one of his guards came forward.

"Captain, I…" he began, but Davy who was in no mood to hear a report cut him off.

"Not now, Maccus," he snarled, "Leave me be."

"But, Captain…"

"I said 'not now!'" Reproached by his captain's livid tone, Maccus slinked back to a corner silently. Satisfied, Davy made his way to Sparrow's cell. He didn't notice the petite figure crouching in the shadows.

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As soon as Isobel heard her captain's booming voice, she had scrambled out of Jack's cell, locking it back behind her, and hid. At first she thought of making her way back to the deck, but then decided that a little eavesdropping wouldn't hurt. At least, if she wasn't caught.

She took a moment to contemplate over some of the things that Jack had told her. James Commodore? The idea was ludicrous to her. Not that she had any doubt whatsoever that he could be Commodore. Isobel knew that James could be anything he wanted to be if he set his mind to it. But why would he want to? He had once helped her commandeer a ship and gather a crew in Tortuga. Did that sound like a future commodore of the British Navy? Another thing she pondered was this Elizabeth woman that Jack had been so uncomfortable about speaking of. Had James loved Elizabeth as he had once loved her? He had requested to marry her. Isobel berated herself for the tears of hurt that gathered in her eyes. She had no right to be upset. Would she not have done the exact same thing if she had survived and thought James dead? And she knew that if James had known her plight he would have done anything and everything to rescue her. She sighed quietly and turned her attention to the voices in the cell.

"Your soul belongs to me, Sparrow." She shivered at that voice and those words. Those words had been spoken to her by that same eerie voice too many times before. 'Your soul belongs to me.'

"So I suggest you answer my questions truthfully," Jones continued. Isobel stealthily maneuvered around two barrels and positioned herself in a corner where she had a view of the captain and Jack.

"What's in it for me, mate?" Jack questioned suavely.

"I let you live."

Isobel saw Jack raise an eyebrow. "Live? Do you mean 'live' like this?" He gestured widely with his arms, obviously referring to the Flying Dutchman's crew. "Cause if that's so…. Well, that isn't what I consider livin' mate." Isobel heartily agreed with that.

Jones shook his head. "If you aid me in finding what I seek, I'll give you your freedom." He held out the key to Jack's cell, but when Jack made a move as if to reach for it, Jones withdrew his hand. "But if you don't aid me, whether I find it or not, you'll be no better off then these other maggots who work for me. What's in it for you? Life."

Isobel's mouth watered at those words, and images flashed through her head of the life that she could have had. Her and James walking hand-in-hand on the beach in the moonlight. Long nights spent up making love. Their children. It would all have been perfect…. But now she knew that that could never be. She barely suppressed a sigh.

Jack appeared to contemplate Jones's suggestion for a moment. Then he stood up quickly with a cheerful, "You've got yourself a deal, mate!" Isobel wasn't surprised. Nor did she resent Jack for giving in. Had she been given that option, she would have done the same thing.

Davy Jones smiled a smile that never reached his cold eyes. "Good. Now what do you know?"

Jack put his fingertips to his lips, and his brows furrowed in thought. No doubt, he knew much but was simply trying to decide what he could get away with leaving out. "Now I don't know for certain," he began hesitantly, pacing the small cell, "But I believe I know who may have your heart. There were only three men fighting for that chest on the island, and as you know I don't have it."

Isobel felt as if the pit of her stomach had turned to ice, and she balled up a fist against her abdomen, fighting the waves of nausea that threatened to overcome her. He couldn't mean….

"A man called Norrington."

No! No longer able to contain herself, Isobel bolted up from her hiding spot, knocking over a barrel in the process and causing both Jack and her captain to look in her direction. But she did not think of the danger of being discovered. All that was in her mind was that Jack had betrayed her love. She rushed over to the cell and threw herself against the iron bars blocking her from the inside. "You filthy bastard!" she screeched at Jack, "You treacherous son of a bitch! How could you? How could you do this? You're a traitor! A stinking traitor. I'll slit your throat for this. I'll…." So lost in her tirade at Jack, she did not even notice Jones coming out of the cell. So it took her by surprise when a stinging blow to her cheek knocked her off balance and threw her to the floor.

"Silence, bitch!" Jones boomed as he towered over her. Tears of both anger and pain blurred her vision and distorted her captain's face as she looked up at him. The fact that James probably had Jones's heart had come as a shock to her. Jack had told her that he had been among those on the island fighting for it, but she hadn't thought….She realized that she should have suspected that he had it though. It had been hope that kept her from seeing the truth. She recalled something her father told her once: 'People believe what they want to believe, lass, but you have to be able to see the truth.' She hadn't done that. She had hoped James was far away, safe and out of this mess now, but now, looking back, she realized how illogical that reasoning was. She could no longer think as she was hauled to her feet by her throat. One of Jones's tentacles tightened painfully around her neck almost closing up her windpipe. She gasped for breath.

"How do you know this man?" When she didn't answer he shook her so hard she saw spots. "How do you know this man?!"

"I don't! I don't!" Isobel moaned, trying to undo the wrong she had done. She should have never let Jones know that she was emotionally tied to James. Davy Jones was the cruelest, most wicked, cold-hearted, creature she had ever come to know.

"Oh really." Jones slung her back down to the floor, and her head rebounded from the hard wood with a loud bang, but she managed to maintain consciousness.

"Umm, pardon me," Jack said from the cell, "But I doubt she'll be of much use to you if you kill her."

"Shut up, Sparrow!" Jones thundered.

Isobel turned a glare on Jack. She didn't want him to try and help her. She would rather have Jones beat her to death than take help from that devious rat!

"Stand up, bitch!" Jones commanded. Isobel turned emerald green eyes sparkling with rage and hate up to him as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Jones looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe you will be of use to me. We'll find out when we catch this Norrington."

Isobel felt as if she would sick up.

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James stood at the back of the ship squinting into the distance, looking for whatever it was that had caused the disturbance. Some men had reported seeing bubbles and fleeting images of something unknown in the water. It was his duty to make sure nothing was amiss. The logical side of him, the side that was most often dominant in his personality, said it was a mistake on his men's part. But there was another part of him, although he hated to admit it a superstitious part, that feared that it was something much, much more.

Although, he had not seen it, he had heard tales of the fearsome Kraken, and while once he wouldn't have believed in silly stories like that…. Well, he had stolen Davy Jones's heart. A still beating heart. He shivered uncomfortably as he thought about it. That was proof enough that some of the stories that he used to think were foolish children's tales were in fact real. Could it be that Davy Jones had discovered them?

Fleetingly, he wondered if it was worth the risk. Of course it was. He had been reinstated as commodore, and everything was back as it should be. He smoothed his hands down the front of his crisp and clean new coat. Then they moved up to his face. His chin was no longer covered in the rugged stubble he had adopted in his stay at Tortuga. He lifted a satisfied hand to the top of his head where sat his new hat and freshly powdered wig. Yes, things were back to normal.

Suddenly the ship lurched, and James stumbled forward. He had to grab the railing of the deck to keep from falling into the watery abyss. Mentally he groaned, expecting the worse, but he didn't allow himself to despair. He was the commodore. He had to remain in control.

"All hands on deck!" he yelled loudly.

Men began to move quickly, everyone going there own stations. James had to find Beckett. The heart was in his possession now. He had to warn him. But as he began to run, a long, ugly tentacle was thrust up threw the middle of the deck right where he was standing. Knocked off balance by the jolt, he stumbled and fell forward. The tentacle grabbed his leg before he could bring himself back to his feet. James grappled for his sword as the tentacle menacingly drew him to the large hole that it had made. James knew that if he went down that hole, all hope for him was lost. After what seemed like an agonizing eternity, he freed his sword from its scabbard. Deftly, he slashed at the tentacle. With a low shriek it curled back, but he knew that that was not enough to stop it. Sword still in hand, he scrambled to his feet. But to no avail. He was knocked off his feet by a second searching tentacle. It was as if they were intended for him solely. Were they? As he fell to his feet the second time, his sword was knocked out of his hand and flew at least ten paces away. He reached for his pistol, but it was too late. He was already being pulled, none too gently, down the hole. As he disappeared into the darkness, his head made contact with something he didn't see with a loud crack, and his world faded into blackness.

He awoke an indefinite amount of time later to someone shaking him. He was wet and cold and still a little out of it. His foggy mind could not comprehend the words that he was hearing. Then a bucket of cold water was emptied over his head. "What the bloody…?" he began, but then recollection came to him. He was hauled to his feet by two strong pairs of arms. And he found himself face to face with a squid-like man. Davy Jones.

It was James immediate reaction to recoil, but Jones grabbed him by the collar and held him immobile. "Where is it?!" Jones demanded, giving him a shake, "Where?!"

His mind was racing, trying to decide how to act. In a split second he opted to play dumb. "What are you talking about? Where is what?" Jones backhanded him across the mouth, and James tasted blood. He stumbled but remained on his feet.

"Answer my question!"

"I don't have anything!" James answered truthfully. He didn't have anything. Beckett had the heart, and James prayed to God that he had gotten away safely. That heart was too valuable to be allowed back into Davy Jones's hands. With that heart a person could control the seas.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Jones roared, "Where is my heart!"

"I've told you I don't have anything!" James shouted back.

"Fine," Jones spat angrily, "You'll answer my questions truthfully in time." He gestured to one of his deformed minions. "Maccus!"

"Aye, Captain."

"Flog him!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir."

James was dragged by the same two creatures who had been shaking him and pouring water on him over to the mast. They stripped him of his coat and shirt, and despite, his furious resistance, managed to bind him to the mast.

"How many lashes, Captain?" A gruff voice questioned. James assumed this was Maccus.

"Until I say stop," Jones growled. The crew cheered.

Suddenly, James felt a whip come down hard on his bare back. He jerked in his bonds and grunted in pain. Another lash. Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. By this time, James could bite back his screams no longer. He could feel the whip searing his flesh, ripping it away from his body. The pain was unbearable, relentless. As his consciousness began to slip away from him, he imagined he heard Isobel screaming in protest.

The flogging went on for an eternity. It seemed like a lifetime of pain. James had been brought to the point where he was no longer aware of anything other than the pain, so he was surprised when he suddenly felt something cool on his open wounds. He jerked up and realized that his surroundings had changed. He was no longer on the deck bound to the mast. He was in a cool, dim room somewhere below decks. He glanced around and his eyes lit on a lobster claw belonging to whatever member of Jones's despicable crew who had decided to take pity on him. He didn't want any of their help. Painfully, he wrenched himself out of their reach with a growled, "Don't touch me." He still didn't look back.

There was a moment of silence. Then he heard a sniff. "You used to let me touch you, James," whispered a shaky female voice. A voice he knew. He whirled around.

"Isobel!"

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Okay I don't know if I'm exactly happy with this chapter. Definitely better than the last I think, but I still don't know. So please review and let me know what you think. Reviews mean a lot to me, and both praise and criticism (as long as it's not flaming) are appreciated. So, please, please, please, review:)