Isabelle stood at the bow of the Flying Dutchman and looked into the fast setting sun. The large orange orb was beginning to turn a gruesome shade of red as it sank lower and lower into the darkening sea. She took a deep breath, inhaling the pungent smell of salt air and tucked an errant strand of her sun bleached hair behind her ear. On the distant horizon she could see a ship just beneath the curve of the sun. In another moment, the ship would be hidden by the blaze of light. She shuddered as the top mast of the great three decked ship was obliterated by the failing light.
It was the Endeavor, and because they were on the Flying Dutchman it had taken them little more than a day to reach them. Isabelle squinted again as the sun sank lower and now it was impossible for her to maintain eye contact with the ship. It had been two days since she had been cast down by the severity of Jack's return. Fast on the heels of that lovely moment in her life had come another vision. It had been strong, no doubt about that. But it had been one of the easiest visions she'd ever been able to maintain.
Only the day before, Isabelle had stood at the aft portion of the Dutchman and been dragged, mentally, to the aft cabin of the Endeavor. It was there that she had seen play out a double deal that would rival any made in the previous or upcoming centuries, possibly of all time.
"Curious." Cutler had said when Jack had been thrust into the room. "Your friends would appear to be quite desperate, Jack. Perhaps they no longer believe that a gathering of squabbling pirates can defeat the Flying Dutchman. And so despair leads to betrayal." Isabelle watched, curious, as Jack began to open jars and pots left on the desk beside the door. "But you and I are no strangers to betrayal, are we?" Cutler turned and began to walk towards the dirty pirate. "It's not here, Jack." Jack's back seemed to straighten and he turned to face the uptight English lord standing opposite him.
"What? What isn't here?"
"The heart of Davy Jones. It's safely aboard the Dutchman. And so unavailable for use as leverage to satisfy your debts to the good captain."
"By my reckoning, that account has been settled." Jack said as he walked towards the maps and globes.
"By your death? And yet here you are…"
Even now, more than twenty four hours later, Isabelle shuddered at the veiled hint of anger that had been in Cutler's voice. His thoughts had centered on one thing for a brief shining moment and that thought had burned itself in Isabelle's brain.
"That bitch lied to me!"
"Close your eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream. That's how I get by." Jack muttered, staring at the large painting of Cutler that was propped in the corner of the cabin. Isabelle realized that it was true. Anything that didn't suit Jack well enough, he pushed aside and instantly forgot about, as if it were a bad dream and not something to bother him.
"And if Davy Jones were to learn of your survival?" Cutler asked. "Do you think it would behoove you to forget your debt to him as if it were a bad dream?" Jack turned from where he'd been imitating the pose Cutler had struck for the painting. "Perhaps you'll consider an alternative arrangement. One which requires absolutely nothing from you but information." Jack took one glance at the map on Cutler's desk and saw nine pieces of eight laid out upon it.
Isabelle, thinking fast, tried to communicate with Jack. Her lessons with Kapil had not been forgotten and she knew that if she had a connection with someone—if someone had drawn her to them or if she had allowed herself into someone else's thoughts—she could impress things upon them as well. She hoped that she was strong enough now and sent a blasting message across the seas to Jack.
"He knows, Jack! He knows about the brethren court! He knows that he needs nine pieces of eight!"
Jack brushed her thoughts away as he might brush a fly from his face. His mind was crowded and she felt as if she had had to shout to be heard above the din. Jack's mind was always working—always trying to stay a step or two ahead of those who had it out for him. She heaved a great sigh of relief with his next question.
"Regarding the Brethren Court, no doubt. In exchange for fair compensation?" Jack downed the brandy in one quick gulp and turned his dark eyes on Cutler who looked deeply annoyed at his rude manners. "Square my debt with Jones…guarantee my freedom."
"Of course. It's just good business."
"Were I in a divulgitory mood, what then might I divulge?"
Again, Isabelle felt the need to impress her thoughts upon him. "Don't Jack! Don't give him anything. You put us all in danger! Elizabeth, William, You, me…."
"Everything! Where are they meeting? Who are the pirate lords? What is the purpose of the nine pieces of eight?"
"I couldn't possibly give you that until I have me terms laid out, now could I?" Jack said maneuvering around the crowded cabin. He picked up a finely made black silk fan, one that must have been left behind when Isabelle's things had been so hurriedly packed aboard the Endeavor the week before. She narrowed her eyes and watched as Jack flicked it casually open and began to lay out his terms.
"You can keep Barbossa. The belligerent homunculus and his friend with the wooden eye, both. And Turner. Especially Turner." He added as he snapped her fan roughly shut.
What had Will Turner done to lose so much of Jack's trust? Isabelle wondered. She had thought them friends at least, but then she wasn't privy—tried not to be privy—to all of Jack's rambling thoughts and inner secrets.
"The rest go with me on the Pearl. I'll lead you to Shipwreck Cove, where I will hand you the pirates and you will not hand me to Jones."
Isabelle heard the duplicity in Jack's words and smiled. He had not said "the pirate lords" he said only that he would hand over pirates. Her heart leapt at the thought that Jack knew not to give up too much to her pale and calculating brother. Regardless of the safety that Cutler offered him, Jack valued his way of life and his deeply ingrained code of honor above all else. He would not sell himself for so cheap a thing as not being turned over to Jones. "Bloody fair deal, don't you think?"
"And what becomes of Miss Swann?" Cutler asked staring at one of the pieces of eight.
"What interest is she to you?"
"Elizabeth Swann is a fine woman. She would make any man proud to have by his side." Isabelle's skin crawled at what Cutler was insinuating. "She has a certain fire and passion and yet knows how to behave in polite society."
"That's what you think." Jack grunted.
"I want her, Jack."
"She's not a part of this." Jack fiddled with some of the figurines on Cutler's desk. He was ending negotiations. If they were not on his terms, they would not go on at all. Isabelle saw Cutler standing in front of a hall of influential men, Elizabeth Swann standing beside him. She looked defeated. Isabelle had never seen Elizabeth Swann look like that and thought she never would. Elizabeth was a strong woman and would not be cowed by any man. Isabelle quickly realized that the Elizabeth standing beside Cutler was a fantasy; one her brother hoped to turn to reality. Isabelle turned her attention away from Cutler's deranged fantasy and focused again on his and Jack's conversation.
"Jack. I've just recalled. I've got this wonderful compass, which points to whatever I want." Cutler had risen from his desk and crossed the room. She watched as Cutler smiled a catlike, feral, smile and went to the secretary's desk that contained the compass. "So for what do I need you?"
"Points to the thing you want most. And that is not the Brethren Court, is it?" Jack was grasping at straws. He knew how to work the compass, to turn a person's mind to get them to use the compass the way he wanted them to. He only hoped that Cutler would believe him as he began to spin his web.
"Then what is Jack? What is it I want most?"
Tell him anything Jack! He wants me, he wants Elizabeth! He wants the world at his feet!
"Me." Jack said with a grin. Isabelle groaned. She knew that Cutler really wanted her, somehow the vision of her and Elizabeth had become crossed. If he could not have Isabelle because of any familial bonds that might be questioned—adopted though she was--he'd go after Elizabeth Swann, who had equally impeccable breeding and a fire which needed to be quenched and driven from her. Isabelle cringed at the realization of how much Cutler enjoyed breaking people. "Dead." Jack added with a grimace.
Suddenly there was another vision and Isabelle realized that Cutler had figured out Isabelle's connection to both him and Jack. He knew it was a blood tie between the three of them through her. If Jack were gone, then Cutler would have full control over her again, and she'd be continually weak and pliant to his every wish. He could overpower her without the worries that Jack might come back to embolden her or strengthen her in someway.
Well I'll be damned…
That was why she now stood at the bow of the Dutchman, staring out for the first glimpse of the Endeavor. She had wondered briefly when Cutler had made his discovery and if he knew the full extent of the effect they had on one another.
The conversation had continued, centering for the most part on the fact that even if Jack double crossed Cutler, as Isabelle knew he was intending, Cutler now knew the location of the brethren's meeting and could more than likely get there on his own.
The meeting had come to a close when the Endeavor had been fired upon by the Pearl. With the meeting's end and Jack's departure from the room, Isabelle found it difficult to maintain the connection on her own and so let it slip away.
Her knees had gone weak when the connection had been severed and she was shocked to be caught up by the tentacle and claw that Captain Jones had in place of human hands. She glared up at him.
"Still feeling a bit weak, are we?" He drawled, his glacial blue eyes cutting into her, but she would not dignify him with an answer. She couldn't for Cutler's voice rang loud in her head.
"Isabelle. Tell Captain Jones to sail for our rendezvous point." Cutler knew he could communicate with her over great distances. Damn him for intruding upon her so! She cursed herself for not being able to shield her self from his thoughts.
"It isn't polite, Captain, to sneak up behind people." She said finally.
"It isn't polite, madam, to keep secrets aboard a man's ship."
"I didn't think that label applied to you anymore, Captain Jones." Isabelle shot back as she stepped away from the rail and made to walk away. She was angry. She didn't know if it was residual from Cutler, or if she were angry in her own right. "Now if you'll excuse me…" Jones' claw tightened about her upper arm.
"I think you'll find that another label that doesn't apply is 'merciful.' I might be forced to sail with you, the Admiral and my heart aboard my ship, but I am still captain here and will be treated with the respect that that label affords me. Do I make myself clear?"
"You are not the highest ranked member of this crew any longer Captain Jones." Isabelle murmured, her eyes blazing angrily. "Now, unhand me."
"Captain Jones!" Isabelle looked around the captain's mountain of a shoulder and saw Admiral Norrington standing behind them. His hand clasped the hilt of the saber hanging at his side and he glared furiously at Davy Jones. "You will unhand Miss Beckett this instant."
"I was only having a discussion with the lady." Jones' claw gripped tighter around Isabelle's arm for a brief instant, but she was careful not to wince with the pain of it. She had to tell Jones he had to meet with Cutler.
"Yes, one which we are not quite finished with, Admiral. We'll be just a moment." The Admiral stayed where he was, near the helm and watched as Isabelle turned calmly towards Captain Jones. "You suspect I have a secret, and in that you are right. I have orders for you, Captain. Lord Beckett arranged a rendezvous point with you and we are to meet him there with all haste. It is an emergency and of the utmost interest to you." Jones' height was imposing, even to one as tall as herself and she had to tilt her head back to meet his icy gaze. The tentacles on his face twitched and shuddered angrily. He made a noise that might have been a growl and suddenly the pressure on her arm lessened. He released her forcefully and stalked away, his own crew moving swiftly to stand aside and let their captain pass.
"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" James asked coming quickly to her side.
"I'll be fine." She said staring at Captain Jones' retreating back. James hovered at her side for a moment before he too went off leaving her with her thoughts at the stern of the big ship.
Isabelle rubbed at the place on her arm again. It still hurt; the bruise that had formed was hideous. She had bandaged it herself as parts of it had bled where the serrated edge of the claws had broken her skin. The sun had sunk lower and now it was near impossible to see the Endeavor. A breeze kicked up and she shivered, pulling her collar closer to her neck. She turned and looked over the deck where the sailors were preparing to come abreast of the Endeavor. She saw James Norrington below, speaking with a lieutenant. He glanced up at her, but his eyes held little of the warmth that they had in the past. She had feared this reaction from him, but not for the reason it was occurring now.
She had been sitting in her cabin after having bandaged her arm when James Norrington came in.
"I'm sorry…I'll be leaving in a moment…" She said as she tucked the rest of the bandages into her bunk. She turned to see James Norrington looking uneasily at her.
"Miss Becket…I need a word with you."
"With me, Admiral?" He was uneasy about something and she thought it might be stemming from her rebuff of him the day before. She had meant to speak with him about it but didn't know herself how to breach the subject.
"Yes, I'd like to speak with you about the incident with Jones earlier." That hadn't been what she was expecting at all.
"There was no incident…we were having a conversation when I lost my balance." She said smiling. She shook her head. "Really, you know how clumsy I am…."
James reached out and grasped her arm in the same spot Jones had. She hissed and tried to pull away from him. "That may have worked before, but I think there's something more going on. I think it's imperative that the two of us discuss what's been happening on this ship."
"Why would I know what is going on? I'm just a woman…"
"Why would your brother allow you to be on this ship if you didn't have something to contribute?"
"I think he wanted me far from him…"
"Then he would have left you in Port Royal." James snapped. "We've known each other for some time now and I've come to realize that there are things you aren't telling me."
"You aren't meant to know everything." Isabelle said darkly.
"Is that the plan you and his Lordship came up with?" Isabelle was shocked into silence. She had never spoken to this hard, calculating and suspicious James Norrington. "Have a seat, Miss Beckett."
"I think I'd prefer to stand." Isabelle watched as Norrington went to the table he used as a desk and took a seat there. She didn't know what to think at this point, but she didn't think she wanted to go down this path at the moment. Her mind and body had yet to heal after Jack's surprising return. THere was still a dull pain that seemed to have taken up a permanent place benath her collar bone and refused to move. A verbal match between her and her only friend was not something she was fully up to. Some part of her was ignited though and she rose to the challenge in spite of herself. "As you said, Admiral, we've known each other for some time. I think we're good enough friends to speak plainly."
"Then why don't you?" When she did not immediately answer he went on. "What is it you aren't telling me?"
"Were I in a divulgitory mood, what then might I divulge?" Isabelle asked, parroting what she'd heard Jack say to her brother.
"Everything! I want to know everything and anything you want to tell me."
"Well then, that's settled. I have told you everything I want to tell you." James' anger was quiet and controlled. Isabelle watched as the flames were held low and close to him. She knew her own anger was banked the same.
"I can't help you if you won't tell me anything."
"Even if I were to tell you everything, you could not help me." Isabelle's voice softened, her eyes had shifted from being dark and angry to dark and sad. She had to try to make him understand but didn't know if she could. "Don't you see James, you can't save me. I'm not like the damsels in the story books. I'm too far gone…a lost cause." Isabelle went to leave the cabin, but James' cold voice stopped her.
"I know a thing or two about lost causes, Miss Beckett. I thought I was one once….you helped change that." Isabelle turned back towards him.
"Not I. You have my brother to thank for that, and the heart of Davy Jones. I'm just a silly girl who's gotten herself stuck in a bad situation turning worse." She left the room as quickly as she could.
They had not spoken since then. The unease that rested between them was tangible and marines and Dutchman crew alike knew that something had occurred, that something had changed between their admiral and the woman. Admiral NOrrington dispatched his marines and lieutenants to bring messages to her when he had usually gone and spoken with her himself. Everyone knew that they'd had a falling out of sorts, but Isabelle wasn't sure why his pride was so wounded. She'd been as honest with him as she could. She had had nothing to do with his turn around from a rum soaked, self pitying shell of his former self to what he had become now. Perhaps she'd shattered an illusion of his and he resented her for it.
She let her mind wander and tried to imagine what it would be like to tell James Norrington that she was connected with the two men he despised most in the world. She tried to imagine telling him everything, baring her soul to him and telling him her deepest secret. Part of her mind saw what she always saw. She saw herself condemned as a witch, rotting in a cell in a deep pit of a prison. She was ragged, and dirty and ill. She never saw anyone who cared for her ever again and she would die cold, and alone. That was benign compared to what she usually saw…a flaming pile of dry debris and her trapped in the middle of it. She shuddered in spite of the heat of the flames whipping through her brain.
However, there was a very small part of her that dearly desired that James would be more understanding. He'd seen things that didn't altogether make sense in this world; walking skeletons, a beating heart kept in a wooden chest, a sea captain of bedtime stories. He was now sailing on the same vessel—a vessel concreted in sea life as were the crewmembers who manned it. These were all events and occurrences that under normal circumstances would force people to believe they'd gone mad. James Norrington knew that they were real though. Why should not her ability to read people also be real? Would he believe her? Would he still have been her friend if she had told him? It was useless to think on such things. It would take time to re-build their friendship, to salvage it, before she could broach the subject to him. And that didn't seem like an immediate possibility.
He did not look her way again, and she felt the force with which he was trying not to pay attention to her. She took a shuddering breath in the failing light and looked to where the Flying Dutchman had closed the distance to the Endeavor. They would board soon and find out why it was that Cutler had summoned Captain Jones to him early.