Isabelle took to stalking the decks at night, as she usually did when trapped aboard a ship. She watched as the sun dipped below the horizon and sighed. They'd been at sea for a week but had learned little. Cutler had asked her to use her powers to search for Will and Elizabeth, but she'd found nothing.
"I can't concentrate with all that banging!" She had grumbled, slamming her hand on the table in her cabin. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and her eyes as the pounding continued to echo in her ears. She brought her eyes to Cutler's quickly. "You have that thing on board! The heart is here?"
"Well, I can't very well have it where I can't be in control of it, can I?" Isabelle stormed from her cabin and stood at the rail fuming. He didn't really need the heart at sea. Something must have happened to threaten the heart. A link in the chain of trust had been severed. Cutler was becoming more and more paranoid. Angry, she'd escaped the official cabin and had fled to the open solitude of the deck.
"Isabelle?" James Norrington came to stand beside her. But she did not acknowledge him. "Is everything alright?"
"No, it isn't." She eventually answered. The sun set the sky on fire and sank into the gray-blue sea as a bright red disc. She turned her back on the rail and leaned against it as she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's that damnable heart. I just found out it was on board."
"It's not all bad. It can't harm you."
"That's not the point!" Isabelle tried to keep her temper in check. It wasn't the admiral's fault that the heart was near by and her brother was losing his mind. It wasn't as if he knew that the heart did harm her. It wasn't as if he understood that what was a gentle and benign beating to a normal person was a deafening drumbeat that pounded behind her eyes and in her ears. She could not blame him for thinking the heart was harmless because she could not--would not--tell him how it affected her. Something was wrong in the world. It was as if everyone was terrified, the stink of it settling in Isabelle's nostrils like burning or rotting flesh. The same fear hung about her as well, she was not immune to it. She shook her head. "I don't like what it stands for, and I don't like what it does to people."
"Isabelle…"
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Good night, Admiral." She stalked away and sequestered herself in her cabin.
Day after day, when she woke up, she was plagued with dreams of a massive ship firing its equally massive guns at smaller, weaker ships. And every day when she set foot on the decks she found that the Endeavor was plowing through the debris of ships newly sunk. One day she stood at the rail and saw a flag floating atop the water, several dead men's weight supported by the voluminous fabric.
"You know something Isabelle." Cutler was standing beside her, his voice carrying a sing-songy tone that Isabelle didn't care for.
"Of course I do." She turned hard eyes on him. "I know that I saw these men alive, laughing and happy, sharing stories of their homes and families. I know that they had loved ones in Cherbourg to support. They were innocent men and Jones and his crew of brigands sailed through and cut them down like wheat before a scythe." Isabelle turned back to the water. "I saw them die. Just as I see them all die, every day."
Cutler was about to walk away when Isabelle called after him.
"Why does Jones hate you so? It can't be simply because you possess his heart."
"Well, Isabelle, if you must know…" Cutler strolled back to stand beside her. "It is because I forced him to kill something most precious to him. You see, it would seem that he doesn't want any real harm to befall his heart. If his heart is destroyed, he ceases to exist. Then he can't help us any more."
"What do you mean?"
"Jones had a pet, a mythical creature much like himself called the Kraken. I had him tell it to run aground, or I'd find someone to stab the heart and take over his duties as captain of the Dutchman." Cutler smiled. "Unfortunately he's not very controllable at the moment and he's angry with me for what he sees as a needless murder. That's too bad. He'll have to see the light sooner or later." Cutler walked away.
A few nights later, Isabelle joined everyone for dinner. Her head had ached and she had felt a pressure just behind her eyes all day. She drank deeply of the wine and tried to stay focused on the conversation.
"Miss Beckett are you well?" One of the clerks who were dining with them asked her. "You look a little pale."
"I'll be fine. Merely a head ache." She smiled at the man, though she didn't really feel it and then brought her eyes to Cutler's.
"Is it one of your usual head aches?" Cutler asked politely. "Perhaps you should go have a lie down…"
"I'll be fine…" But she wasn't. She held off as long as she could and waited until the others had finished their meals. As the door shut on the last of the mess, Isabelle's glass slipped from her fingers. It shattered on the wooden floor and as Cutler approached, he noted that her eyes were an eerie silver color.
"Mr. Mercer draws near. He has information for you." She slumped in her chair then and above, high in the crows nest, a call went up.
"Ship on the horizon!"
"Well, your ability is incredible, isn't it? Sighting ships from below decks before even our sharp eyed lookout sees it cross the horizon. Well done. Perhaps I should put you up in the crow's nest….give you a better vantage point?"
"You wouldn't dare…"
"You're right. I prefer to have you close…where you can be controlled." Cutler whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Now pick up the mess you've made, and then get out." Isabelle heard him lock the door behind him, ensuring that she would not be able to leave until he wanted her to.
Isabelle dreamt again of more ships being destroyed but that seemed tame compared to her wakeup call. By afternoon, when she finally roused, Mr. Mercer was aboard ship. She was irritable at feeling his presence aboard the ship, his dark thoughts clouding the otherwise sunny day. Having his mercenary close by made Cutler happy, which in a twisted way served to depress Isabelle even more. Cutler's happiness was coming at the cost of others'. Isabelle went to Cutler's cabin and watched the buzz of business swirl around her. Men read reports and moved model ships on, across and off of a giant map of the seas. Mercer and Cutler were conversing on one side of the cabin while Governor Swann went over documents on the other. He looked up at her and nodded mouthing the words "thank you." Isabelle nodded back. This was the first time he'd gotten to thank her for the information she'd passed him on Elizabeth. Isabelle stood between the Governor's desk and Cutler's. If she could have gotten behind the Governor's desk it wouldn't have been far enough away from Cutler. On Cutler's desk sat a chest. It was a chest she'd seen before, in her mind; a chest that Cutler had taken from Jones to place the heart in. The sound of the heart beating resonated in Isabelle's head and she turned away to stare at the lines traced across the enamel of the globe. She traced a finger over the lines that depicted India. She cringed as Cutler spun a coin on his map covered desk and waited for it to come to a stop on its face before slapping it up into his hand again.
"A piece of eight…nine of them you say?"
"Our new friend in Singapore was very specific. Nine pieces of eight." Mercer drawled as he approached Lord Beckett's desk.
"What's the significance of that I wonder?" Cutler asked bringing his eyes from the coin to Isabelle. "Any ideas my dear?"
"None, sir." Isabelle said without taking her eyes from the globe before her.
"Does it matter?" Mercer asked. "Nothing can hold against the armada, not with the Flying Dutchman in the lead."
"Nothing we know of." Cutler cut in.
"You haven't seen the Dutchman in action, have you Mr. Mercer?" Isabelle asked. "Captain Jones is out of control." Cutler and Mercer ignored her mild rebuke and plowed on.
"Did your friend happen to mention where the brethren court were meeting?"
"He was mum on that sir." Isabelle saw a flash in her mind and saw the man lying dead. He'd been tortured. A long line of faces paraded after, one of them a pretty young oriental girl. Isabelle recognized her as the same girl that had seen her sister shot in Sao Feng's bath house. Isabelle hissed and turned away from them and strolled towards a window on the opposite side of the cabin, the air feeling suddenly stuffy and stale. Cutler ignored her, but pitched his voice low so that only he and Mercer could hear it.
"Ah Admiral!" Cutler said sounding surprised. Isabelle turned, equally surprised to see James away from the helm.
"You summoned me, Lord Beckett." Isabelle tried not to smile at the barely veiled irritation in James' voice.
"So," she thought. "I'm not the only one annoyed with Cutler's childlike antics."
"Yes, something for you there, your new station deserves an old friend." Cutler's voice oozed. He loved surprises. This was one he especially relished. James looked at the desk, covered with shelves and boxes of parchment. Her eyes too, were drawn to the long, black silk covered box that seemed out of place amongst the business trappings. He ran his hand over the case before opening it to reveal a beautifully made sword. Isabelle saw in her mind the day Norrington had been made Commodore and being given the sword for the first time. She saw him carry it into battle against frightful, skeletal creatures—the same ones she'd seen when they'd spoken in the garden--and she saw him wield it again when he first went after Jack Sparrow. It was one of Turner's fine blades; sturdy, beautiful and yet dangerous.
"Not more requisition forms…" Governor Swann sighed.
"No sir, executions." The assistant muttered. The governor had not looked up when the Admiral stepped into the room, but he did when the sound of metal scraping metal echoed through the large cabin. The blade shone blue in the tilted light and Isabelle gasped as the true beauty of the blade was revealed.
"The brethren know they face extinction." Cutler muttered as he turned the coin over in his fingers. "All that remains is for them to decide where they make their final stand." Isabelle watched as James and the governor exchanged a concerned look. She'd have to speak with the admiral to find out what it meant, but she was sure it had to do with the knowledge that Elizabeth had been in Singapore at the same time as Mercer, and had been seen in the company of at least two well known pirates. Isabelle made a move to leave the room, trying to slip past James when Cutler stopped her.
"Wait, Isabelle."
"Yes?" Cutler had an odd look on his face, as if something had just struck him and a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
"When you were ill…how many names did you reveal?"
"I don't remember." Isabelle thought for a moment. Sri Sumbhajee, Armand the Corsair, Chevalle, Villanueva, Mistress Ching, Barbossa, Jocard, Sao Feng, and Jack. By the powers, she had named nine pirates!
"Eight sir." Mercer interrupted her thoughts. "She said eight names in her delirium." Isabelle glanced at James and saw him staring intently at her.
"A shame. If it had been nine, I would assume it was the names of those we were hunting." Mercer rattled off the names and counted them on his fingers. Both men turned to Isabelle. "Did you dream of anyone else while you were ill, my dear? Someone Mr. Mercer failed to mention."
"No. Those were the only nightmares I remember having." Isabelle said quickly. Cutler squinted up at her, trying to deduce whether she was lying or not. She left the room quickly, followed by James Norrington.
It didn't take long before he came to stand beside her at the rail.
"You didn't tell him about Jack." She said quietly. "Why?"
"I didn't think it was important. And I still don't." He answered back, equally quiet. "Jack Sparrow is dead."
"Then all this is folly." She looked away over the blue sea and sighed as the salty mist sprayed over her hands and face. "If the nine I named are truly the nine Cutler hunts for, then Jack is already gone. Calypso can not be freed since Jack is gone. He can't possibly be called on to release her." She shuddered. James wanted to ask her how she'd known about the pirates, how the dreams came to her and how she knew the nine pirate lords, but he didn't know how to broach the subject. Instead he continued on the present course of the conversation.
"We both know that, but Lord Beckett doesn't. This goose chase will keep him from doing more harm in Port Royal."
"And harm on the seas?" She glared up at the Admiral. "He's doing harm out here too, or hadn't you noticed?"
"The governor and I are hoping that in sailing about we may yet find Elizabeth..."
"She's safer fleeing Cutler." Isabelle shot back. "If you find Elizabeth, so does Cutler. You know the law...the dispensation from the King..." A dark thought crossed her mind and she saw Barbossa, Elizabeth, Will, Gibbs, and several other Black Pearl crewman lined up on the gallows. "It's a criminal offense to associate with those convicted of piracy, and she's with Barbossa."
"I thought he was dead too, but obviously not." The Admiral sighed and scratched an itch at the back of his head where his wig touched the skin of his neck. "Something isn't right, I just haven't placed it yet." He looked down at her but she would not meet his eyes.
"Something else we both know." Isabelle muttered. She moved away, hoping to find a sunny spot on deck to warm her hands which had suddenly grown very cold.
That afternoon, the chill spread from her hands to the rest of her body. She pulled on her heavy wool coat and paced the decks, breathing into her hands and shuffling her feet, trying to warm them too.
"Are you cold?" Isabelle stopped and chafed her shoulders while she turned to face the Admiral.
"I'm freezing."
"Do you feel ill? Shall I fetch the surgeon?" He stepped close and touched the back of his hand to her brow. He took her hands up in his and was bewildered by how cold they were. It was as if her hands had been carved from ice.
"I feel fine, only cold." She realized that she must still be connected to Will and Elizabeth and that they were in a remarkably cold clime. Perhaps the arctic…
"Bosun!" Head to wind! Lift the sail!" Isabelle looked over the bow and saw what was causing such a stir.
"Damn!" She swore as she began to move forward, pulling her hands from the Admiral's warm grasp. The Admiral looked up and followed her to the bow. A gust of wind picked up and carried the smell of burning wood, spent gunpowder and rot to their noses. Isabelle turned to see Cutler and Mercer stroll onto the deck to take in the damage as well. Cutler looked slightly perturbed. She looked back over the carnage that had been wrought. Bodies floated, water bloated and deformed, upon the gently bobbing surface of the waves. Boxes of cargo bobbed and rolled in the waves, many still tied together from where they'd been in the holds of the ships. An explosion drew her attention to the blackened hulk of one vessel which was slowly slipping beneath the waves, the masts tipped precariously into the water adding white billowing clouds of steam to the dense black, acrid smoke of the burning wreckage.
"Miss Beckett?"
"Yes?" Isabelle said turning to face the young midshipman who had come up behind her and the Admiral.
"Your brother has requested your presence amidships. Yours as well, sir." He said turning to the Admiral. "You're both to meet his Lordship by the long boats."
"We can't be looking for survivors, there won't be any." The Admiral said as he stepped past Isabelle. "What on earth could he want to go out in that for?"
"I don't think we go for survivors. I think we're going to parlay with Captain Jones." The Admiral turned to see the Flying Dutchman sail from behind a billowing cloud of dense black smoke and come towards the Endeavor.
They wasted no time in gathering a boarding party and making their way across the debris riddled waters towards the Dutchman.
"Do you sense anything, dear?" Cutler whispered.
"Sadness." Isabelle immediately amended her assessment. "Anger."
The boarding party rattled onto the decks and brought the crew of the Flying Dutchman to the open hold at the center of the ship. Marines held their guns before them, ready to bring them to bear on their 'captives'. The Admiral was the first on deck; he spoke to several of his men, all of whom looked nervous at seeing the half men, half sea creatures that were assembled before them. Cutler came next, then Isabelle who was followed by Mercer. She shuddered and pulled her coat closer around her shoulders. She was still cold for some unknown reason. Jones stormed onto the deck and railed at Norrington.
"…And take that infernal thing with you!" Jones sputtered, sea water spewing from his mouth. Isabelle saw that two of the marines carried the heavy chest that contained the heart. "I will not have it on my ship!"
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that...because I will." Cutler snapped. "Because it seems to be the only way to see that this ship do as directed by the company." Cutler motioned with his staff and the Admiral looked to Isabelle, uneasy with leaving her in the company of so many loathsome creatures. She dipped her head slightly and locked eyes with him.
I'll be fine. The thought was unnecessary. He and the two men bearing the chest moved off to Jones' quarters. Isabelle felt eyes upon her and turned to see the Governor staring. He had only just joined them on deck and had seen the look pass between her and Norrington. There was much she had to discuss with him. Cutler's voice brought her back to the present.
"We need prisoners to interrogate, which tends to work best when they're alive."
"The Dutchman sails as its captain commands." Jones answered petulantly.
"And its captain is to sail it as commanded!" Cutler shot back. Isabelle watched as angry red flames engulfed Cutler as he strolled towards the legendary sea captain. How she wished the flames were real, and not just flames of his anger. She vaguely wished that Cutler would be consumed by his own anger. Cutler stood close to Jones and whispered. "I would have thought you'd learned that when I ordered you to kill your pet." Jones looked stricken and Isabelle shook her head. Cutler was a vile man when he wanted to be.
"Isabelle, you and the Admiral will remain aboard the Dutchman. The Governor, Mr. Mercer and I will return to the Endeavor where we can better conduct our affairs of state." Cutler turned on his heel before Isabelle had a chance to react. She chased after him.
"You can't mean that! I can't stay here!"
"You can and you will."
"My effects!"
"Are being brought aboard now." Isabelle turned to see her sea chest set down on the deck. She whirled on Cutler, anger showing clearly on her face. "I need you to remain with Jones. I might have need of you, I'll call and you'll pass the orders on to Jones. You'll also do the interrogating…"
"I won't send people to their deaths."
"You won't be killing anyone. Just gathering information before Jones does." To anyone else it looked as if Cutler was patting Isabelle's shoulder with brotherly affection, but he had actually clamped down quite hard. It was all she could do to keep her feet. "You'll be fine. Your precious Admiral will let nothing happen to you. Will you Admiral?"
Isabelle glanced over her shoulder to see the Admiral approach them. There was a cold fire in his eyes as he watched Cutler and Isabelle interact. "I will take personal responsibility for her safety sir."
"Yes, see that you do. Governor! If you please, we will return to the Endeavor post haste." Isabelle wrenched away from Cutler and stormed down the deck to put as much distance between them as possible. "No goodbye? Well, isn't that a show of gratitude…."
Isabelle stood on deck that night and sighed deeply. Her stomach had a pit in it and she momentarily felt as if she had fallen. One of Jones' crew came up beside her. In place of a human head he had an eel's. The small beady eyes peered at her as he craned and extended his head around so he could stare at her directly. Isabelle glowered back.
"Yer a queer one, ain't ye?" He hissed. It was a low, not unpleasant voice. "Most women would be cowering below decks, terrified of our form."
"I'm not most women." Isabelle countered. She grasped the rail and hissed as the falling feeling intensified briefly.
"Miss Beckett?" She turned over her shoulder as she saw Jones and Admiral Norrington staring at her. James' hand settled close to his saber as he stared at the eel creature behind her.
"I'm fine. My stomach is a bit unsettled. I'll be right as rain when the seas settle." She said trying to smile. The deck pitched suddenly and Admiral Norrington seemed to accept her unease at being tossed about.
"There is a lack of adequate lodging on this vessel. We've set up what would have been the surgeon's cabin for your use. I'll take you to it momentarily."
"Where will you be staying?" Isabelle asked as she skirted Jones. The captain made her uneasy for some reason. She attributed it to his fearsome appearance, for there was little emotion she could glean from him. It no doubt had something to do with his not having a heart beating in his chest.
"I will be finding a place with the rest of the crew…"
"How will you manage that? It's cramped enough as is…" Isabelle turned to face him. The ship sailed at a decent capacity under normal circumstances, it's transfigured crew significantly more bulky than your average seamen. She'd seen one crewmember who looked to have an entire ship's wheel sprouting from his back. Far from ordinary to say the least, but now there was also a full compliment of Marines to be housed below decks. There was barely room for them, and many were giving a wide berth to the crewmen from the Dutchman. Space was very limited. "Besides, how will you run the ship without an office?"
"I'm sure I can figure that out in time." He said with a smile. It didn't reach his eyes.
"You thought the Endeavor would be your flag ship." Isabelle whispered. "This must be awful for you…" James shrugged, as if having the newest, fastest and sleekest ship in the Caribbean wasn't what he had most desired at the time. Being aboard the Flying Dutchman and having to vie for command with a formidable sea captain was less than perfect. Admiral Norrington opened a heavily encrusted door and opened onto a room with several bunks, a table, a stuffed chair and an overhead lantern.
"This will be your cabin, Miss Beckett. I took the liberty of having your things brought down." Isabelle saw her chest tucked against the foot of one of the bunks.
"Who else stays here?" She inquired at seeing three other beds in the room.
"No one."
"This space can't all be for me…?"
"Who else would share it?"
"You?" James turned his eyes to her quickly, shock creasing his eyes and brow. "Come now Admiral, you must realize I don't sleep at night." Isabelle said casually. "And all this space is surely a waste. You can use this as your quarters in the evening and your office in the afternoons. I sleep in the mornings. That is the only time I would require any privacy."
"It wouldn't be practical." James straightened to his full height; he looked imposing, near filling the dark hallway. Light reflected off his gold braid and shone up onto the walls revealing the extent of the concretion of barnacles within the ship.
"Admiral, look around. None of this is practical. We're on a ship with crewmen who have sea urchins for heads and barnacles for ears. I think certain…allowances…can be made."
"We can discuss it at a later time. For now, get yourself settled here." He bowed to her and then moved down the corridor to see that his men were settled and the watches were established. Isabelle looked into the cubby hole built into the wall and saw her bunk. It was small, cramped, and did not look at all comfortable. She sat on the edge and sank to the wood beneath the thin mattress. If the bed had looked uncomfortable it was nothing compared to how uncomfortable it truly felt. How she wanted to put her head in her hands and cry. This was not a good situation to be in. She was stuck in close quarters with monstrous creatures and the heart of Davy Jones. It didn't take someone with Isabelle's power of intuition to deduce that the captain was less than thrilled to have it so close. The only good things to come from this situation were her distance from Cutler, and her proximity to the only friend she had. She looked up at the walls and sighed.
"When life gives you lemons…" She whispered. Life had certainly given her lemons, but she feared that making lemonade from them would be as easy as getting blood from a stone.