Isabelle reached the docks and stared at the forest of masts and lines that were tangled shadows in the moonlight. To her, they all looked quite the same, but then, as her eyes adjusted to the greasy and dim lantern light on the docks, she began to notice the subtle differences. She noticed the differences in the width of the ships, and the number of gun ports. She sensed, rather than saw, the actual colors of the ships and, above all else, she began to see the figure heads taking shape out of the shadows.

Most were of bare breasted women reaching far ahead of the ships. Some were mermaids with tails that curled back into the prow of the ship. Others wore long flowing dresses, the hems of which disappeared cunningly into the woodwork of the hulls. Some figure heads depicted animals. She saw two English lions and one evil looking dragon, the tongue of which protruded from a sharp jawed snarl. She walked slowly along the docks and stared up at the big figure heads and eventually found herself at the end of the quay. There, in the darkness sat a black ship. She peered into the shadows and saw that at the front of the ship was a woman, arm extended, holding a bird. She remembered that figure head. She'd seen it many times on the water front in India when she'd been young; the Wicked Wench. She had heard it had been sunk though. Suddenly a chill raced up her spine and she knew in the depths of her soul that this ship was surrounded in dark magic. A gust of wind snapped at a sail that hadn't been furled properly and she snapped out of the dark thoughts she'd been trapped in. The gang plank had been lowered and a few lanterns were guttering lowly on the deck. She saw no one marching the decks and chanced to walk slowly up the gang way. She crouched low when she reached the ship itself and looked on deck. She cast her thoughts out, but sensed no one nearby. She stepped onto the deck and made her way aft. She went to the door beneath the steps up to the helm and turned the latch to step inside. The door opened with a loud groan and she winced. Below decks she heard someone's feet hit the wood decking and she quickly stepped inside Jack's cabin and stepped into the shadows beside the door, but still saw no one come up on deck. Isabelle heaved a sigh of relief and walked around Jack's spacious cabin. The ornate desk at the back of the space was covered in parchment and maps. One map was stretched flat with two bottles of rum which contained different levels of the amber liquor, and a sextant that was bent and looked as if it had been salvaged from a wreck. Other trinkets and items littered the desk. Chests carved from rare woods from the far reaches of the world were all over the cabin. She ran her fingers over a battered teak wood chest when she heard a commotion on the dock outside. She approached the window and flicked the latch to push the window open just an inch. Jack's voice drifted up to her ears.

"It should be a dress or nothing at all! I just happen to have no dress in my cabin." Isabelle rolled her eyes. Jack was a lascivious leech. More than a decade hadn't changed his ways. She leaned forward and touched her cheek to the glass to hear more.

"Jack, all I want is to find Will."

Good. Isabelle thought, Elizabeth has found him as well.

The next bit of conversation was hard for her to hear, but eventually the voices were carried to her on a wisp of breeze.

"Well, there is a chest…."

"Oh dear." The new voice belonged to a man.

"A chest of unknown size and origin…" That was Jack again.

"What contains the still beating heart o' Davy Jones."

Isabelle stepped back from the window. She could not have heard the man correctly. But now she heard people stomping onto the deck outside and she thought it prudent to move into the deepest shadows of the cabin and await Jack. Jack's voice was carried to her a few moments later when he shouted for his first mate.

"Mr. Gibbs!"

"Cap'n?"

"We have our heading!" There was more stomping and shouting and Isabelle stayed in the shadows of Jack's cabin with bated breath. Suddenly all the chinks in her plan came to light. She was a stowaway on a pirate ship. Granted, she knew the captain of the vessel, but that had been over a decade ago. In spite of all her fears though, she knew that she'd be welcomed, if not warmly, by Jack Sparrow.

It took almost an hour before Jack entered the cabin. Elizabeth had followed him.

"Jack, really, where did you get that compass?"

"What's it to you, love?"

"Jack…"

"Suffice it to say, that I'd rather not….say." Jack turned and grinned at Elizabeth revealing the same smile that Isabelle remembered from so long ago. "Now if you don't mind darling…I have Captainy things to be doing." Isabelle sensed the frustration in Elizabeth; she was a headstrong woman and wasn't used to not being told everything. Isabelle sighed softly when she heard Elizabeth's footfalls leave Jack's cabin.

Isabelle smiled indulgently as Jack turned and un-corked one of the bottles of rum on his desk, the parchment beneath it curling up against the other bottle. Isabelle cleared her throat softly as Jack drained the bottle. Thoughts raced from his mind to hers so she was un-afraid when he leveled his pistol at her in one smooth motion.

"Who's there?"

"I'm sorry to intrude, Captain Sparrow. Is this a bad time?" She stepped slowly from the shadows and strolled into the golden light of the hurricane lamps that dimly lit the cabin.

"Who are you? Have we met before?"

"Yes. I should say we have." She smiled softly and stood tall in front of him. "It was a long time ago though, I wouldn't blame you for forgetting."

"India…."

"Yes. Allow me to re-introduce myself. I'm Isabelle Beckett."

"Beckett? Beckett!? My god…you were related to that psychopath?"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course I did." Jack straightened as best he could against the slightly rolling ship and strolled around the desk. "I just didn't know how."

"We're not blood relations. His father adopted me and I adopted his name."

"Oh." Jack sat down and propped his feet up on the desk. "And now what brings you here?"

"I'm in need of a favor."

"A favor? Last time I helped you, you'll remember what happened."

"Yes, through no fault of my own. But you'll find yourself in a worse predicament with or without me."

"Without you? How so?"

"Cap'n?!?"

"Hide!" Isabelle slid back into the shadows as another man burst into the cabin. "Mr. Gibbs! What is it man?!" Jack Bellowed.

"Sir, I know Miss Elizabeth is a fine woman and has sailed with us before, but you know it is frightful bad luck to have a woman aboard?"

"Yes, so I've heard….but I think we're in a much better position to have them with us."

"Them?" Isabelle stiffened, thinking Jack was about to give her away but he covered himself remarkable well.

"Elizabeth and Mr. Norrington."

"He's a good sea faring man."

"So is she." Mr. Gibbs stared oddly at Jack but then shrugged it off. He was still unsure, but figured that this was just another of Jack's eccentricities. "Mr. Gibbs, please put your mind at rest. Establish quarters for Miss Swann down stairs. Make them as good as you possibly can."

"Aye Sir." Mr. Gibbs left the room, a dark cloud of doubt still hanging over him.

"So, are you still there, or were you a ghost from my past?"

"I'm still here." Isabelle said as she stepped back into the room.

"That's what I was afraid of." Jack said with a sigh. He picked up the second bottle of rum and uncorked it and held it out to her.

"No thank you." Jack grunted in response and drained the bottle as well.

"The last un-welcome visitor I had came with rum. I'm guessing I'll not be so lucky twice."

"I'm sorry."

"Bah." Jack stood up shakily and came to the spot where Isabelle stood in the middle of his cabin. "Tell me what you did bring."

"A longer criminal record. Information. And a tool."

"Oh really now. Have you stolen flowers from your brother's garden?" His mocking tone was meant to wound but it had none of its stinging venom considering Jack's demeanor.

"No. Another prison break." Jack stepped back quickly. "I'm becoming quite fond of them."

"I should say so." Jack's appraisal of her seemed to be more calculating this time. "How long since the last one? Fifteen years?"

"Eleven." Jack groaned and moved away again. "But I'm sure we can catch up any time. Don't you want the information I have?"

"What'll it cost me?"

"Passage on your ship." Jack sat down carefully and looked at her. "That's all I ask, and since I'm already here, I think it would be less trouble than turning around."

"Hmm…so what information have you?"

"You agree to give me passage until such time as I choose to disembark?"

"Agreed." Isabelle knew instinctively that she'd cut the right kind of bargain.

"Cutler--Lord Beckett---is now in charge of all Things Company related. He is casting out for anything and everything which will make him rich. That includes something that will probably kill him in the hunting."

"And that is?"

"Something to control the very oceans and winds." Jack's face betrayed nothing, but his thoughts raced to a chest and a heart. Isabelle again thought her mind was translating thoughts improperly, but shook it off.

"He thinks you have the way to find it."

"And why would he think that?" Jack's eyes drifted from hers and he stared intently at his desk, his fingers playing with the mouth of the rum bottle.

"I'm not privy to that information."

"You also said you brought a tool?"

"Me."

"You?" Jack's eyes snapped up to meet hers again.

"Yes." Isabelle stepped forward and placed her fingertips on the desk. "Suffice it to say that in my being here, Cutler has lost his ability to track you."

"Why must women always speak in riddles?" Jack grumbled. Isabelle was transported on a wave of Jack's memories to a dark skinned woman in a tiny shack on a bayou. There was a power around this woman the same as surrounded the Pearl. She had no doubt that the two were connected.

"Because our power far surpasses what mere men could ever understand." Jack's kohl rimmed eyes darted to hers and studied her for some time.

"I'm going to pretend that I never heard you say that and order that we continue this discussion tomorrow morning."

"Very well, Captain Sparrow."

"Mr. Gibbs!" Jack's bellow shook the windows behind him as he launched himself from the chair. Isabelle smiled softly at the floor as Jack sauntered towards his cabin door shouting for his first mate. The man with mutton chop whiskers entered and stared oddly at Isabelle.

"Who be she?"

"She? She be a woman of great value and import to our quest, savvy?"

"Sir, she be a woman and that be all we need knowing. Its frightful bad luck having a woman aboard sir…..it's even more frightful to have two of 'em."

"Mr. Gibbs, if what she says is true, then we'd have even more unfortunate luck were she in the hands of our enemies." Mr. Gibbs looked as if he was going to argue, but a sharp glance from Jack stopped the words in his mouth. "Take the lady to Elizabeth's cabin. They can stay together."

"Aye sir."

"Thank You Captain Sparrow." Isabelle said inclining her head towards Jack and she followed Mr. Gibbs out of the cabin and into the moonlight.