This chapter is dedicated to Aslangirl15 for being such a faithful reviewer. Thank you very much! Your reviews mean a lot to me. Sorry it's been so long since my last update guys. I've been extremely busy! I know, excuses, excuses. Lol. By the way, I'm allowing anonymous reviews now.

Friends

After speaking with James, Isobel had gone down to her hiding place below deck, where she sat sobbing, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her weary head resting on her knees. Seeing him now after so many years, she realized that she loved him more than ever. Her love for him had grown more passionate, and his was gone. But could she really blame him? Perhaps if she was still so vivacious and beautiful, he could love her again. But what man would want a woman who was as ugly, deformed, and utterly damned as she? The look on his face…. Oh, she shuddered in agony to think of that look! She couldn't bear to see the horror, pity, and repulsion in his beautiful eyes when he looked at her. It would have been easier to bear if he hated her. She wished she had never seen him again.

She wished that she was a normal woman again. She wished even more that he would take her in his arms, pull her to his strong chest, stroke her hair, and whisper that he loved her and that everything would be alright, but she knew that that would not happen.

Age had certainly not been unkind to him. The few wrinkles around his eyes gave him a more distinguished and intelligent look. His face had become more stern- she suspected that was the result of years in a position of authority- but it had lost none of its former appeal. He was more lean than the last time she saw him, although still well muscled. Isobel sighed with longing. He had changed for the better, and she had changed for the worse.

She wondered how different he was from the man she had loved who seemed like an eternity ago. As Commodore, he probably hated pirates with much more vehemence than he had when she had first met him and fallen in love. And he was certainly more interested in power now. Why else would he have wanted Jones' heart? She would have to press him about that issue… if she could ever face him again.

She was so frightened for him! Jones wouldn't give up easily, and Isobel knew James wouldn't either. Jones might end up killing him. The flogging he had received earlier was nothing to what he would get before this was all over. She knew Jones' ruthlessness. She was lucky he had allowed her to drag James away from the mast when Maccus had finished with the whip. She had meant to bandage his wounds also, but the knowledge that he no longer cared for her had been too much. She would bandage them the next time she had the chance.

Maybe it was for the best that he didn't love her anymore. If he did love her and Jones picked up on it, which he most certainly would, he would try to use that love against James. Use her to make him break. She didn't want that. She couldn't stand to be the cause of him giving up.

But if he gave up, he wouldn't be in such danger any longer…. No. That was no way to think. And that was a solution that was not going to help anybody. Well, anybody except Jones. Besides James had been one of the most stubborn men she had met 15 years ago, and she guessed that that much about him had not changed.

She stood and wiped her eyes. She knew that sitting down there and crying would get her nothing more than a good lashing for shirking her duties. She knew that all the crying in the world was not going to win her back James. She sighed and went to go work.

----------

James stayed below deck where Isobel had hidden him, for he knew he was lucky to have escaped the wrath of Davy Jones for a short time. And he knew that he would probably be looking for him soon. After all, a prisoner on a ship belonged in the brig. Well, hopefully he could remain in this small storage room for as long as possible.

He heaved a heavy sigh as his thoughts shifted to Isobel. She probably hated him now. Maybe that was for the best. He didn't want her to love him anymore. Of course not. A relationship with Isobel now would only prove to complicate matters. Besides, love had done nothing but cause him grief in the past. First with Isobel and then his humiliating rejection at the hands of Elizabeth Swann. In the time since Elizabeth had refused him for Will Turner, James had thought about it and had decided to swear off love and relationships.

But Isobel had been dead to him when he made that decision. When he had sworn off love, he hadn't counted on having to meet her lovely green eyes ever again. If only…. No, that would get him nowhere. There was no point in wishing and thinking of what might have been. What was done was done, and James knew he had to cope with it all.

He sat down and, like he did only occasionally, let memories wash over him. He remembered Isobel's lilting laughter, her bright smile, the warm feel of her hands on his body. He loved the way they could talk for hours and never run out of things to say. He recalled with lusty pleasure the feel of her shapely legs wrapped around him when they made love. He almost drifted down into despair as his heart ached for things to be back the way they once had been. His mind screamed at him to stop thinking like that, but his heart thought differently.

A sound near the door caused him to stand. He clenched his hands in fists, prepared to put up a fight should it be some of those mutated men come to beat him again. He relaxed only a little when Isobel entered. He wouldn't have to be fighting a physical battle with her; he would be fighting for much more. His heart.

She stared down at some bandages she had in her hands, refusing to meet his eyes. It was obvious that she had been weeping. Her eyes were red and swollen. He had no doubt that he had been the cause of that weeping. The pained expression on her face tore at his soul. It made him want to take her into his arms in a comforting embrace despite all that was separating them. Cold reason and logic restrained him.

Isobel still did not look at him as she spoke. "Take off your shirt again, James, and turn around. I need to bandage those wounds." Her voice trembled slightly.

After a moment, James silently complied. Without a word, she moved up behind him and began to tenderly bandage up the still fresh wounds that he had taken from the whip. He noticed that she was careful never to touch his skin with her claw.

"Isobel," he said when he had grown uncomfortable in the heavy silence, "I'm sorry…."

She cut him off. "I don't need any explanations, James," she said. Her voice was stronger now, filled with resolve. "I understand, and I expect nothing else. Please, let's not talk of it."

You do not understand at all, James thought to himself, wondering if he should let her know what he truly thought. "But, Isobel," he began again, his voice filled with frustration, "What I said…. Well, I meant…"

"Don't you dare give me false hope, James Norrington," she hissed angrily, "Don't do that to me. I may deserve a lot of things, but that is not one of them." He winced as she tightened one of the bandages with an angry tugged. "I had adjusted to a life of servitude and loneliness until you got involved! It was never easy, but at least it was bearable. Now…. Now, I don't know what I'll do now…." She trailed off into an angry silence.

She was right. She didn't deserve that from him. And false hope was all he could give her. Nothing good would come of anything else. He wished he could give her more. Isobel deserved the best anyone could give her. If only things had turned out differently. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly.

"I know," she murmured back, all anger gone from her voice leaving only emptiness and despair. She finished tying off the last bandage, but rather than removing her hand, she let it rest lightly on the muscles of his back. "I didn't tell anyone where I took you," she said, "But I'm sure someone will be here to take you to the brig soon. I have things to see to. I will come to check on you when I can, and if you ever need a…." She took a deep breath. "Friend…" James thought she almost choked on the word. "To talk to… you can talk to me." He nodded, not trusting his voice enough to actually speak a reply.

Then he felt her lean in closer to him. Suddenly he felt the feather-light touch of her cold lips on the back of his shoulder. She let her mouth linger there, taking in the feel of him one last time, and then she drew back. She stood quickly and walked to the door. "Good-bye, James," she whispered before she left. And he knew it was not only a good-bye to him for that day, but a good-bye to what they once were. A good-bye to the lovers, James and Isobel.

"I don't know if I can just be your friend, Isobel," he said to the empty room. He touched the exact place on his shoulder blade where her lips had been, memorizing the way her kiss felt, for he did not think he would ever feel it again.

He sighed and leaned back. He might as well get some sleep while he could. If he could.

As it turned out, James didn't get much sleep at all. By the time he actually forced himself to drift off for a moment, one of Davy Jones' men came to drag him off to the brig.

---------

Sorry so short! I promise the next one will be longer. Please, please, please, please, review:)