It seemed to Isabelle that every side street they turned up was filled with the mob that was bent on destroying the town and the company. James Norrington knew many of the lesser streets and alleyways and guided her quickly up them.
"We have to get you back to your house, you'll be safe there."
"They marched right into company headquarters; you don't think they'll do the same up there?" Isabelle gestured wildly towards the heights where the elitist mansions sat.
"No, I think someone will have seen this and called the marines out." Even as he said it they saw a troop of marines run up the street clad in Company colors. They struck down anyone in the streets and Isabelle cringed as a volley rang out in another street. They exited the alleyway and ran up the street away from the waterfront and towards the taverns and boarding houses that lay in a part of Port Royal that Isabelle had never seen. A building erupted in flame and noise and several women went screaming up the street chased by the mob. They were not afraid though, Isabelle realized. They were giddy with the thrill of being pursued by lustful men. Isabelle gasped for breath and stared, bewildered as everything seemed to turn to ruin. James led her up another street and as they made to dash across it, a burning hay wagon came rumbling towards them, the horses pulling it screaming in fear. James grabbed Isabelle and swung her about, pinning her to the wall of one of the warehouses.
"Stay quiet…catch your breath…." He whispered. He looked up and saw the mob coming towards them. She tried to do as she was told but she could not catch her breath. "Keep your head down!" James stood close to her and shielded her face from the oncoming mob with his shoulder. He looked down into her eyes and locked them in his gaze. "Are you alright?"
"Alright?! We're being chased by a crazed mob through the streets of Port Royal and you're asking me if I'm alright?" He smiled in spite of himself and shook his head. She wheezed as she stared up at him angrily.
"I meant alright to run once this…" He stepped closer to her and leaned his head down towards hers as several of the mob members stopped near them.
"Oy mate! There'll be enough time for wenching later on!"
"Oh, leave him alone! Give her a poke for me mate!" Isabelle flinched as the man clapped James' shoulder and dragged his companion away. James did not raise his head immediately after they left. He looked down into Isabelle's fear filled eyes. She was looking over his shoulder at the passing mob, her face was still flushed from their run and a few wayward strands of her blonde hair lay across her cheek where they'd fallen from pins that had held the top half in a once neat coil at the back of her head. He brushed the strands off her heated face and brought her eyes to meet his.
Isabelle felt something wash over her, some feeling that she had been quite unfamiliar with until now. She locked eyes with James Norrington and felt an odd heat build within her. It seemed as if it started at her feet and moved slowly up through her stomach and to her cheeks. She swallowed hard as she felt his hand alight softly on her waist and she closed her eyes in an effort to keep the soft, warm fire from consuming her. Her head began to spin and then her knees buckled beneath her as the heat became too much. James caught her up and supported her as she shook her head free of the fire and tried to slow her breathing again.
"Can you go on?" He asked. The mob had moved on, they too had to keep moving or risk being seen again when another mob came up the street. Isabelle nodded and let him grasp her hand and lead her farther up the back streets of Port Royal.
"Mr. Norrington….please…I must stop…" They had passed smoldering piles of what looked to be looted Company goods, furnishings from merchant's offices, and stalls that had sold many of the goods in the market. They'd had to dodge up side streets and had twice just narrowly avoided out of control vehicles in the streets. They were about to turn up the main street leading to the big houses when Isabelle stopped James. He turned to see her eyes take on the uncanny black color he'd seen them on the night aboard the Pearl so many months before. "Not that way…they're coming." She whispered. He looked to his left and saw the faint glow of torches. To his right, he could hear the commands of the captain of the guard as he deployed his troops in the street to meet the mob. This was not a good place to be, and going back was not a choice.
"Come on!" James raced out into the street and dashed across into the dense underbrush dragging Isabelle along behind him. They had only made it a few feet through the dense foliage when he heard the commander of the guard give the order to fire. James pulled Isabelle to the ground and only just in time, as he heard several stray balls go whistling above their heads. Isabelle shrieked but was quick to get up at James Norrington's behest.
"James, please….." But he would not stop and they continued to race through the brush. They came out just up the lane from the back garden gate and James dragged her towards it and quickly slipped inside. "I can't…no farther…." Isabelle shook her head and sank heavily down upon the trunk of a tree that had been felled to make room for other plants in the lower garden. She grasped her side where she'd developed a stitch, the whale bone in her corset stays restricted her breathing and she gasped for every breath her burning lungs took in. James knelt before her and looked up into her eyes.
"Deep, slow breaths. We should be safe now." He whispered to her. "Stay here, I'm going to make sure we weren't followed."
When James returned, he thought Isabelle looked pale. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were trying to gather every once of strength she had in her. He had had to leave her for a moment to clear his head. He had thought back to the moment when the mob had passed them by and they'd nearly been run over by the burning hay wagon. He had thought about kissing her, he'd been close to it until she'd sunk away from him. It had taken that to break his thoughts away and keep him focused on the task at hand. It had been a contributing factor to the pace he had set for them in running through the streets. He was fearful that if they stopped again he would be tempted to embrace her again. He had nearly had his chance again when the marines had opened fire and he'd had her wrapped in his arms and pinned to the ground beneath him. But he would not press or take advantage of her. It had taken him too long to gain her trust in him as a friend and he would not throw his heart idly at another woman. He had done that once with Elizabeth Swann and look where that had gotten him. He'd lost his career, he'd lost the woman he desired, and he'd lost everything he'd ever thought important. And now he found that his path was entwined with another woman, one older and more mature, and infinitely more mysterious than Elizabeth Swann had been; a woman who needed a friend above all else. For a fleeting moment he thought he might have a chance to rebuild his life, but those thoughts were instantly dismissed. He was an out of work naval officer with nothing to recommend him to someone as elevated as the sister of an English Lord; especially a Lord who ran one of the largest and most influential trade organizations in the world. James shook his head and approached the spot where she still sat upon the log. He knelt before her and took up the hand that rested upon her knee. She brought her eyes to his slowly.
"The coast is clear; we can take our time getting up to the house." They heard another volley of gunfire in the street and Isabelle gasped and flinched at the sound and the screams that followed. James Norrington thought it was the noise that frightened her, but in reality, she felt the fear, anger, panic and death of the people in the streets below. Isabelle moved to rise but sank back down to the log when her knees were like jelly beneath her. James had caught a brief glance of her side and saw blood there. "You're injured!" He pulled her coat aside and looked at the red bloom of blood upon her side as he pulled a kerchief from his coat pocket. "When did this happen?"
"What?" She looked down to the spot on her left side and shook her head. "It doesn't hurt at all….I…" then she looked at her right hand as she realized that the bloody spot on her bodice was about where she had felt the stitch in her side. Her side didn't hurt, but her hand was on fire and covered in blood. She glanced down at her skirts and saw great red streaks and hand prints staining the brocade where she had held them aloft as she and James had sprinted through the streets. "I think it's my hand…" He glanced from her side to her hand and sighed in relief. A hand was an easy thing to patch up. He quickly folded his kerchief and wrapped it around her hand to stem the flow of blood. It was a deep cut across her palm and fingers and he wondered briefly where she'd gotten it. "It must have been from the bracket on the drain pipe when we escaped head quarters." She answered the unasked question, in part because she'd read his mind and in part because she had thought of it herself.
"That would explain the amount of blood…" James said standing up. She looked up at him a bit blearily. "You've been bleeding for some time now."
"It's on your coat…I'm sorry…" She said seeing the stains on the wool lapels. She didn't want to think on how long it had been since she had left the house. An hour, or tow? Less?
"It won't hurt anything." He answered quickly, his voice breaking into her thoughts. "Can you make it to the house?"
"As long as you promise not to make me run." She quipped. He smiled down at her as he helped her to her feet and together they made their way slowly up towards the house. At least she still had her sense of humor. James thought as they went through the garden.
"Thank you." She said as they rounded a bend in the path and approached the formal gardens.
"For what?"
"For rescuing me. I'd have been consigned to quite a nasty fate if not for you…."
"Let us not think about that." James Norrington said as he caught her arm when she tripped. She closed her eyes and shook her head. The marines had just fired another volley into the mob. The mob had broken and now their fear threatened to overwhelm her. "You're weak…"
"I'm fine…" She answered shortly. Her voice held a biting tone that she hadn't intended. She did not want to appear weak in front of James Norrington for some reason.
"I didn't mean it to be an insult to you. I just meant that the past hour has been quite trying…for us both."
"I just need to rest again…my head is pounding…" That was true. She might have caught her breath but her heart was still pounding and her head throbbed with every beat. It didn't help that the conflict in the city was playing havoc on her senses. All she wanted to do was to sit down and rest for just a moment…
"Allow me…" Suddenly she was swept up in James Norrington's arms.
"No, I can walk…." She said pushing feebly against his shoulder.
"Shh…don't be so stubborn and relax." Reluctantly she held to him with her left arm and rested her head against his shoulder. Her eyes felt heavy and she closed her eyes against the throbbing pain of the distant screams from Port Royal. James made his way quickly through the garden and towards the side door. "Hello! Anne! Henry! Is someone there?" He kicked on the door and wasn't too surprised to see Henry standing on the other side with a long rifle pointed at him.
"Mr. Norrington?" Henry's eyes drifted from James Norrington to Isabelle. "What on earth…?"
"Let me in and I'll explain everything." Henry opened the door and stood out of the way as James came into the house and carried Isabelle directly to the parlor. "Call for Anne to bring up some hot water and some clean bandages. Miss Beckett cut her hand."
"Isabelle?" Cutler Beckett had heard the commotion and had left his office to see what was going on. He glanced from James Norrington to Isabelle where he had laid her on a low couch. "What happened?"
"A mob attacked the headquarters right after she went in." James explained. "We were trapped up on the second floor of the offices and had to come down a drain pipe. One of the brackets came free and she cut her hand on it. It took us over an hour to make it through the streets to get here, but neither one of us noticed her hand bleeding until we got here. She was too weak to carry on…"
"Well, Mr. Norrington, you have gone above and beyond your duty to the Company in the protecting of my sister. We are forever in your debt." Isabelle stirred on the couch and opened her eyes. They were dark and Cutler gently sat down beside her. "How do you feel Isabelle?"
"Tired…" She took a deep breath and tried to sit up, but Cutler placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
"Rest here. Anne will be along shortly to properly bandage your hand." Cutler looked distastefully at the dirty kerchief that was already beginning to soak through with blood.
"Mr. Norrington and I have some things to discuss." Cutler stood and left the room even as Anne entered the room with a basin of water to wash her Mistress's wound. "Come along Mr. Norrington."
James caught Isabelle's gaze and she nodded at him.
"Thank you again, Mr. Norrington. It seems you are always saving me from wretched situations I get myself in."
"What are friends for?" He asked with a bow and a smile at her. She closed her eyes again as she smiled slightly back at him and he followed her brother into his library.