Isabelle made a hasty retreat for the door and dashed up the corridor and out the front of the office. The sunlit courtyard outside was quiet and the sound of tropical birds trilled sharply in the distance. She could hear a ship's bell clang in the harbor, carried to her on the gentle breeze that entered Port Royal.

Cutler didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted. She didn't know where he'd gotten the lust for power, but she knew it hadn't come from his father. Not completely anyway. Isabelle hugged her shawl tighter to herself as she walked towards the narrow stretch of beach at the end of the street. She took the overgrown path down to its rocky shore and bent down at the edge of where the waves lapped up to meet the beach, bashing tiny pebbles into fine sand. She picked up a few shells that had been washed clean of grit. The hem of her dress was soaked, as were the tasseled ends of her silk shawl, but she didn't care. She was absorbed in the simple patterns of peach and white on the shells in her hand. She rolled a thick, tightly curled white one in her palm and relished in the cool, smooth feel of it against her fingertips. The feel of the shells calmed her and soothed the angst that Cutler had fostered within her. She rose to her full height and inhaled deeply of the tangy air. Light glinted off the small waves and Isabelle felt her spirits lighten as the harbor turned from gray to blue in the brightening light. She had to squint to make out the ships sitting at the harbor mouth--captains refusing to unload their goods to be taxed by the Company.

She looked back to the shells in her hand and thought of the fate that those captains might face if they were apprehended selling their cargoes elsewhere….

Isabelle had snuck out of the manor house late in the evening. Her absence would not be noticed. Cutler was celebrating his triumph over piracy and the village with some of the other lords and businessmen from the area. She heard a hearty laugh from the parlor as she slipped out the side door. She might sit in on meetings and deal in affairs a woman had no business in, she might have the Sight, but she would never understand the world of men and the currency in which they dealt most; Pain and suffering of others.

She moved into the jail and threw her hood back.

"Miss Beckett!" The sheriff had leapt to his feet as she came in to his small office. "It is late."

"Has the doctor been to see Captain Sparrow?" She had demanded. The sheriff shook his head.

"No ma'am."

"Well, Master Cutler does not want him to die of infection. He wants him to be an example to others. Let me see him."

"Miss…"

"You impudent swine…if Captain Sparrow dies on your watch you'll be on the street faster than you could blink. Lord Beckett will have you hanged for mistreatment of prisoners, and Cutler…well, he'll probably use you as an example to replace the one he'd lost in Captain Sparrow." The jailors eyes grew wide and he quickly moved down the hall, scrambling to find the key that would admit her to Jack's cell.

"Do you require anything else of me?" The fear in the man was revolting and Isabelle could smell it coming off him in waves. It was worse than the stench of his sweat that clung to his clothes.

"A bucket of clean water, can you manage that?"

"Aye miss." The man had disappeared and left her in the cell. When she entered the dingy space she found Jack propped into the corner, precisely where the deputies had tossed him after his ordeal with Cutler. Isabelle knelt beside him and felt his brow for fever. He was warm, but not unnaturally so. His arm was an angry red and it blistered back from the spot of the burn. The letter P was clearly outlined in black against his dark skin where it had seared his flesh. The door opened again and the jailor set a water bucket beside her. He had left soon after, going back to the meal on his desk and not wanting to catch the sharp side of her tongue again. Isabelle reached into the basket she'd brought with her. Muniya had helped her with it earlier when Isabelle had rushed to tell her of the days' events and of her plan to help Kapil. It contained food, bandages, salves and herbs to battle fever and infection. She pulled out a clean cloth and dipped it in the bucket of water beside her. Wringing it out she reached out for the captains arm but felt her wrist caught up in his surprisingly strong grasp.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help."

"Well unless you plan on spiriting me away in that basket, which I highly doubt, I think there's little you can do for me." He said opening his eyes slightly and glancing at the small basket she'd brought with her.

"Let go of my wrist and let me clean up your arm, or would you prefer to lose it?" Their dark eyes met for an instant and he slowly released her wrist. "This is going to sting." She shuddered as he ground his teeth against the searing pain of the contact of fabric to the burn. It was all she could do to deflect the pain he was feeling from herself. She had not packed enough rags and was left with nothing to bandage his arm after she had cleaned all the blood and pus from it. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her own silk kerchief with which to cover the brand. Through out the whole procedure Jack Sparrow had not uttered a word. She sat back and looked at him as he looked down at the lace trimmed bandage that was tied about his forearm.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I feel you are wrongly accused, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"I'd prefer it if you'd get me out of here and had not have mended me."

"I plan on getting you out as well. Treating your ills is mere Christian kindness."

"Christian kindness—they bestow that on Pirates now?"

"Most don't, but then I don't practice the same sort of Christian kindness the rest of the world does. If they found out what I am, they'd practice their kindness on me and I'd prefer that not happen."

"'What you are?' And what, besides a stunning young woman, might that be?" Isabelle stood and looked down at Jack.

"I'll return in a few days to check on your arm. Try not to scratch at it. If it starts to hurt, rub this on it." She tossed him a bottle of salve and turned promptly on her heel calling to the jailer to let her out.

Two days later she'd returned to the jail, this time with permission from Cutler. He wanted to know how Captain Sparrow was fairing, but did not want to go himself. He sent Isabelle, knowing it would not look strange for her to arrive issuing 'kindness' from the heart of a woman. Little did he know that she'd already been on such a mission.

Jack's arm was healing well, though the brand still bled and pussed, it was not infected and that's what had concerned them both.

"So what's your master scheme for getting me out?" Jack whispered as she rubbed a rather pungent salve into the skin around the bandage.

"I think it is best you not mention such things, Captain Sparrow." She handed the dark eyed man another jar of salve and stared at where his hand grasped it, but she didn't let go. "I also think it would be best if you applied this after dark tonight." He squinted up at her but she was gone again in an instant.

Isabelle had brought a similar jar to Kapil. Both jars contained messages that outlined the plan and told the readers to be discreet. Considering the jailer could not read, the risk of him knowing what was going on was slim.

The plan had come together with Muniya's help. Kapil's brother and a few of his guerilla friends had come into the town and had been hiding at Muniya's. On the planned night of escape, they would set several fires around the city--enough to damage property and to cause havoc. Whilst the men folk were otherwise engaged, two of the guerilla's would go to the jail an release the prisoners. Muniya and Kapil would then disappear with several of the other families into the jungle and out of Cutler's clutches. It was a perfect plan because though it was Isabelle's idea, Isabelle could never be implicated in it.

The evening of the escape, Isabelle played her part perfectly. A dull roar in her ears told her that there was danger in the town. She knew that the fires had been lit and that the plan had begun.

"Is something wrong, Isabelle?"

"No, merely a headache." Isabelle drank her wine and watched Cutler out of the corner of her eye.

"A special headache?"

"Special? I don't think so. There's no such thing as special head aches, Cutler."

"Hmm…" Before Cutler could utter a rebuttal, a liveried attendant burst in the room with the news that several warehouses had been fired as well as several homes in town. Cutler leapt from the table and left the dining room to issue orders and to see the damage that had been done. Isabelle followed behind listening to every word with the appropriate expression of shock plastered on her face.

"Isabelle, I want you to go to the jail."

"What?!" Now Isabelle wasn't play acting. She was most definitely shocked.

"I need all the men from the house in town to put out fires." Cutler said shrugging into his coat. "You'll not be safe here. Go to the jail. Mr. Gross will keep you safe."

"But Cutler…"

"Isabelle, do as I say!" Isabelle grabbed her shawl and rushed down the roads and through the congested streets. She thought momentarily about running into the woods and hiding, but then decided that everything would go wrong. She could at least release the prisoners if she could overpower or trick the jailer. Isabelle rushed into the jail and found it deserted. The jailer and his deputies were gone, already having left to fight the fires in town, never thinking that their charges might chance to escape. Isabelle quickly snatched up the ring of keys and set to work opening the cell doors. She was half way through when the two men who had been sent to over power the jail finally arrived.

"Isabelle…you should not be here!" Kapil said as the prisoners rushed out around him. Isabelle fumbled with the keys and set to work on the next door while Kapil continued to follow her.

"I know that, but Cutler sent me here." She walked with Kapil to the front door of the jail. "You have to hurry, your family is waiting!" Kapil grabbed her arm as she turned to go back into the jail.

"Do not release that man."

"I have to."

"No you don't. He is a pirate. Let him rot!"

"I won't. I promised, now go!" The force of her mental outburst thrust Kapil into the street and into the stream of people fleeing the conflagration in the town. She turned quickly and unlocked Captain Sparrow's solitary cell. He looked up as she waved him out of the room. "Hurry! Someone is sure to realize what's going on." Jack brushed past her and into the anteroom where his effects were on top of the jailer's desk. He strapped on his sword belt and tucked two heavy pistols into the sash that was knotted around his waist. He locked eyes with her and she nodded. "Now, your ship was the Eastern Empress wasn't it?"

"No. My ship was the Wicked Wench. Young Mr. Lord of the Town took it to himself to burn her to the depths of the sea. I'm just with the Eastern Empress because she just happened to be in the area."

Isabelle shook her head while she absorbed all the information Captain Sparrow had just divulged. "Be that as it may, she's docked closest to the harbor; Cutler was planning on re-fitting her. You won't have trouble getting aboard but you might have trouble getting to sea."

"No I won't. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?" He said extending his arms and smiling broadly. Isabelle nodded and then looked out into the street.

"There's no one coming…the coast is clear."

"Good." The dark eyed captain suddenly grasped her arm in a tight grip and marched her into the darkness.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!"

"I think not, love. You're going to be my insurance that keeps that psychotic maniac from doing me and mine any more harm." Isabelle tried to pull away from Sparrow but his grip was firm on her arm. They stuck to the shadows at first, but then Sparrow marched her down the streets openly. Few turned their gaze from the chaos happening in their own worlds which had been turned upside down. Isabelle stopped struggling and Jack Sparrow's grip on her loosened. "There now, that's better. I don't want to hurt you."

"You will if it suits you though."

"I hope it doesn't suit me." Isabelle glanced over her shoulder and glanced into Jack's dark eyes. She knew it was true, but she also knew he wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone if it meant staying alive.

As they neared the harbor she heard Cutler's voice ring out into the night.

"Stop right there, Sparrow!" Jack stopped and turned his back on the dock, placing Isabelle between him and Cutler, his cutlass instantly at her throat.

"And why exactly would I be wanting to do that?" Isabelle could hear the smile in his voice as he glowered at Cutler from over her shoulder. "Seems to me I have the bargaining tool right here."

"What do you think you're doing?" She hissed at him as his grip again tightened on her arm.

"Getting out of here alive." Jack whispered back.

"She means nothing." Cutlers words cut into her and she stopped paying attention to Jack.

"Cutler!"

"Oh I think she means a deal to you or you would have fired already."

"What makes you think I won't?" Cutler's men were following Jack's deliberate movements up the dock, staying just out of pistol range.

The next few moments happened so fast that Isabelle was still not quite sure what had transpired on those docks that long ago evening. Cutler had approached faster as it became apparent that Sparrow intended on boarding the ship. Cutler had drawn his saber and advanced within range of Isabelle and Jack. He had attacked in an overhead hacking swing that left him far too open. Jack had swung Isabelle out of the way and sent her skidding across the dock planks and nearly into the harbor while simultaneously bringing his own cutlass down across Cutler's chest. Isabelle screamed and scrambled to Cutler's side as Jack disappeared into the darkness above her with one final admonition.

"Just business mate!" And he was gone.

She looked down at her hands now, where she still clutched the shells and polished stones of the Caribbean beach and thought back to the night that they'd been stained with Cutler's blood. She had tried to staunch the flow with her own shawl and had screamed for help from Cutler's soldiers. Jack had been forgotten. The crew of the Eastern Empress had arrived at the ship before Jack, having heard word from him that he would be escaping that night and they had lowered a rope to him and hauled him aboard as the ship pulled slowly away from the dock.

That had been close to eleven years ago. Cutler still bore the horrible scar across his chest from his brief encounter with Sparrow while Sparrow bore the East India Trading Company brand of a Pirate.

Isabelle let the shells trickle from her hand and splash into the waves as they lapped at her feet. Cutler would be leaving the offices soon and if she were late for the evening meal he would be greatly displeased. His wrath was something she could not take---not now---not ever.