Isabelle climbed up the side of the ship and was assisted over the rail and onto the deck. She clung to the marine for a moment before stepping away and smoothing her skirt down.

"Thank you…"

"It was nothing, Miss Beckett." Isabelle looked up quickly into James Norrington's bright eyes. He smiled down at her and then moved across the deck and into the dark corridor that lead to Cutler's cabins. Isabelle stood beside the rail for a moment, shocked that he had not only spoken to her but that he had assisted her. Perhaps whatever had built between them was gone. Someone cleared their throat behind her and she realized she was blocking access to the deck of the Endeavor. Shaking her head she moved on and dashed th positive thought from her mind. MOre than likely he was just being kind. It didn't take a wise man to know that it wasn't an easy task climbing rope ladders and flinging oneself over rails while wearing a skirt and cumbersome petticoats Soon Isabelle arrived at the door of Cutler's cabin. She stood next to the door and listened as Cutler railed against Admiral Norrington.

"I don't care what you have to do, Admiral, but I expect you to find Sao Feng and stop him!"

"It will take time, my lord…"

"Just do it!" Isabelle flinched as she heard something crash inside. Captain Jones stomped gruffly past Isabelle and went into the room without saying a word to her. She remained in the hallway and listened as the three men bellowed at one another. The heat from their argument spilled through the thin walls and into the hall where she stood. Sweat dotted her brow and slid slowly across her temple. She finally gave in and loosened the scarf she had around her neck and pulled the collar of her shirt open. She fanned the air in front of her face with her hand in a futile attempt to cool herself down. One last burst of heat from the argument within the cabin suffused the corridor and Isabelle had to press herself into the wall to keep from being run over by the angry Captain Jones. Admiral Norrington was fast behind him and he glanced quickly at where Isabelle stood trying to refasten the ties and buttons at her throat.

"Your brother wants to see you, Miss Beckett."

"Thank you Admiral." Isabelle sighed as he disappeared up the hallway. He had wanted to ask if she was alright. She was beginning to dread the question. It made her want to tell him everything about her just so he'd stop inquiring after her health. Isabelle smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear and slid into the cabin to see Cutler pacing back and forth.

"You!"

"If you prefer I'd not be here I'll go back to the Flying Dutchman." Isabelle said indignantly. He had been the one to summon her here. If she'd have had her way she'd have told Jones to sail to the farthest side of the world from Cutler.

"You most certainly will not." Cutler snapped. "How much do you know?"

"I know that Jack is back. I know that you want him to lead you to the brethren court." She looked pointedly at the large hole that yawned in the back of the cabin.

"Will he stay true to it?"

"I don't know. He's Captain Jack Sparrow, he never stays true to much of anything accept himself."

"Damn it Isabelle!" Cutler shouted and slammed his open palm against his desk. Small lead soldiers clattered and fell and for a moment Isabelle saw them not as lead representations but as flesh and blood soldiers that had succumb to the heat of battle. She brought her eyes up to Cutler's. "You don't understand at all, do you? This is no laughing matter."

"I understand far better than you think."

"Then why do you insist on angering me?" Cutler came from behind the desk and walked slowly towards her. She tilted her chin up as if daring him to come closer, when in reality her knees felt ready to give out and she was terrified. "Will Jack lead me to Shipwreck cove?"

"No." Cutler's anger was plain upon his face and he chewed at his lower lip.

"Can you track them?"

"Track who?"

"The Pearl, Isabelle! Of what have we been speaking?" He crossed the room quickly and grasped her already injured arm. His arm came up and she managed to block him with her free hand, her eyes blazing with her own anger. He grasped her arm tighter causing her to yelp and release his wrist. His hand flew quickly to her throat. He now had full control of her and he marched her back towards the hole in the wall of his cabin. "Tell me Isabelle, did you hope to protect them by playing dumb? Did you think that your bonny Admiral would protect you always?" She would not dignify his questions with an answer, she was more concerned with her own self preservation. She struggled against him even as she was backed towards the hole in the side of the ship and bent backwards out over the open sea. She grasped his waistcoat in her free hand and maintained the hold. If she were to go over, she'd do her best to take him with her. "Do you know where they are? Captain Sparrow? Elizabeth Swann? William Turner? Can you track them?"

"Let me go…you're hurting me."

"I won't let you go until you tell me what I want to know."

"I won't lie to you." She ground out. "I'll tell you what I know, but I won't lie and tell you what you want to hear."

"Then tell me, my dear….tell me all your secrets." Cutler whispered. Isabelle's eyes darkened and she thought briefly about holding her tongue. "Come come…no need to play coy with me. Tell me all your secrets as you've told Mr. Norrington." When she still did not answer his smile grew. "Oh how quaint…you've kept it from him…my my, but you are one for secrets and intrigue and lies, aren't you?"

"No, I just don't want to lose his friendship…" Cutler's grip tightened on her throat and she squeaked at the loss of breath.

"Friendship? You are in a business relationship with him, nothing more. He is using you as much as you are using him. Keep your nose to the grindstone, your ear to the ground and your eye to the horizon and do what you're paid to do." Isabelle's eyes darted towards the door of the cabin only a moment before the door flew open.

"Excuse me, Lord Beckett, it's time to…" Admiral Norrington had entered the room and seen Cutler only just allowing Isabelle to stand. Her hand went to her throat and she cleared it, thankful to be able to breath again. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, Admiral. I was just wishing my sister a bon voyage." He smiled and Isabelle dipped a slow curtsey, her eyes still holding to the anger she felt at being threatened by him. He was a bully, there was no other way to put it. She swept out of the cabin and onto deck, enjoying the crisp evening air. Lanterns were hung above the deck and crew men were desperately lashing the mast upright from where it had cracked and fallen into the water. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and went to where she could be assisted down into the long boat to be taken back to the Flying Dutchman.

"Did he hurt you?" James sat beside her and whispered, lest the few marines in the boat with them over hear. She clasped her hand over her arm where blood had seeped through the bandages and her dress. It didn't hurt really, but her dress was certainly ruined.

"Not enough to do any real damage." Her voice was flat, her eyes cold and James realized there was no fight left in her, she'd exhausted what energy she had in trying to stand up to her bully of a brother. "It's nothing, really..."

"It is something, Isabelle. Why won't you allow anyone in to help you?" She turned the cold eyes to him and she shrugged, a slow motion in the bobbing surf.

"Because it is my fight. I have to do it on my own." She turned away from him then and did not say another word to him. When they reached the deck of the Flying Dutchman James again helped Isabelle over the rail.

"Go clean yourself up. Take as much time as you need." He watched as one of Jones' monstrous crewmen slowed down and stared at them.

"I smell blood." The creature's beady eyes searched the deck for the source of what he could smell. James assumed it was the shark in him as he had the head of a terrifying hammerhead shark. James grasped Isabelle's arm where her dress was stained. Isabelle flinched--his touch was feather light against her arm, unlike anything she'd felt in days from another person.

"Go about your duties." Admiral Norrington growled. "You've no concerns here." The crewman grumbled in return as he moved on and James turned back to Isabelle. He opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted.

"I'm going, no need to tell me twice after such an event." She went quickly for several reasons. Not only did she want to clean herself up to prevent Jones' crew from paying her anymore mind than they already did, but Mr. Mercer was about to come on deck and she wanted to be nowhere near the man.

Isabelle took her time cleaning up. It was hard in her current conditions, but it gave her time to think. The water was still slightly salty and though she didn't feel clean, it was better than nothing. She stripped down to her shift and corset and ran the wet cloth over her neck and chest. She cleaned the cut on her arm and re-bandaged it. Sighing heavily, she looked in the mirror. She remembered a time when she'd been the glowing gem of the Beckett household. She remembered when hot water had been brought to her whenever she desired it and her hair had been clean and well dressed. She remembered when her eyes had been bright with happiness and not the dull pools she now gazed into in the dull reflection of the mirror. She shook her head sighed again. That was long ago, when she had been young and the world lay before her. She was twenty eight now and still single.

Cutler had seen to that.

Cutler saw to everything in her life; every miserable aspect of it. And she was forced to be grateful. She stifled a third sigh and moved to her seachest to see what she wanted to wear. She decided to be slightly vain and dressed with great care. She put on a green dress that made her eyes come alive. She might be depressed and her eyes might be dull, but the bottle green material of the skirt and jacket went far to putting some light back in them. The calico material of the waistcoat beneath was patterned with colors of the fall. The linen shirt had a high collar and she tied a silk cravat in the same color around her neck. She took a moment to look in the mirror and smiled sadly. She had worn this shirt before when Cutler had left bruises on her throat. She had noticed faint discolorations on her neck where he had grasped her neck earlier. She didn't think anyone would notice at the moment, but it had become habit by this point.

Her hair was a mess. She ran a brush through it but the days of being at sea and in the salt and wind had taken its toll. She quickly pulled the top half back and pinned it loosely into a half bun. Satisfied that it was the best she'd be able to do, and growing bored in the stuffy air of the cabin, she donned the jacket that went with the skirt. The collar of the jacket stood high and stiff and came to a place just beneath her chin. It was a military style jacket and though she had loathed the dress Cutler had made her wear to the Admiral's gala, it had only been because it was not the place for such a garment. She was actually quite fond of long tailed coats cut in a similar fashion as those that men wore. It had something to do with her height and the fact that most women couldn't wear coats of this style without looking foolish. She pulled her hair out of the collar and let it fall down her back. She straightened her shoulders and took another look in the mirror. This was the best she could do and she was content with it. Satisfied, she left the cabin and went up on deck.

They had sailed quickly; an all encompassing shroud of mist surrounded the Flying Dutchman. Isabelle stared into the darkness and tried to think about everything that had happened. Cutler had planted seeds of doubt in her mind and she wondered if she and James truly were using one another. Was she using him as a crutch? Had he successfully used her as a way to elevate himself? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots thumping on the deck.

"Miss Beckett?" Isabelle turned to face the marine that had come up behind her. He was young, and afraid.

Fear had a stench to it. It reminded her of Bedlam Asylum; the smells of filth, dirt, disease and bodily odors, as well as something else, drifted off a person who was afraid. She smiled at the boy realizing that the source of his fear came from her.

"Admiral Norrington is asking after you."

"Very well. Where might I find the Admiral?"

"He's up near the bow miss. I'll take you to him." The boy turned and began to lead her across the deck.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen ma'am." The boy was lying. He had been lying for years, so much so that he almost believed his lie himself.

"No you aren't. You don't turn eighteen for several more months yet." She said softly. The boy stopped and turned to face her. "How long have you been in the employ of the company?"

"Not long miss, only since the fort's compliment was transferred to the company." She smiled when he did not deny his young age.

"How long were you with the army?"

"Miss…"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Isabelle said placing a hand on his arm. "Have you no family? Won't they be worried about you?"

"They're pleased as punch for the monies I send home." The boy said. "But if truth be told, I liked the army life much better than being a Company Marine." The boy shrugged. "Things were normal in the army."

"Yes. I know what you mean." Isabelle answered with a sigh as one of Jones' crewmen stalked past. She shuddered as the man with a conch shell for a head slinked past them muttering in Portuguese. "You mustn't fear though. Things will eventually turn out right."

"Ma'am, if you don't mind my asking…."

"Go on." Isabelle prompted when the boy didn't continue.

"Why are you here?"

"Somedays I wonder that myself."

"Another question if I may." The boy said turning his back and continuing across the deck. "Men on a ship talk miss, and there's words going on about you…."

"I'm not a witch." Isabelle answered. The boy stopped again and stared at her. "You think I don't know what they think?"

"It's just that…."

"I've heard these things before. I've heard it ever since I was young and my father used to take me on voyages. He wanted me to learn the trade, to be able to help my brother. That is why I'm here." She touched the boys arm again. "Do not listen only to the tales of old salts; look around you. The world is never quite what it seems. The fantastical can be real, as proved on this very ship. The ordinary can be bent and twisted into something unreal. The world is forever what we make of it."

"Sound advice." Isabelle and the young marine turned to see James Norrington standing behind them. "Miss Beckett, a word with you if I may?"

"Of course admiral." She nodded at James and he nodded in turn at the young marine who snapped to attention and then turned smartly on his heel and left them. "What is it I can do for you?"

"It's not what you can do for me; it's what I can do for you." Isabelle looked at him, a slight crease furrowing her brow. "I'd like to apologize." Isabelle laughed.

"Apologize? What for?"

"For the way I acted before. I realize that your space is something you value. Your life can't be easy…"

"No one's life is easy. It's something I've come to understand and appreciate." She sighed as she leaned against the rail. She wished now she'd taken more time with her hair as the wind whipped it around her face. "I should apologize too." She said softly.

"What have you to apologize for?"

"I realize I shouldn't be so stubborn." She looked up at him. "I don't want to admit that Cutler is such a big problem in my life, or that anyone else should know about it. And yet I consistently turn to you. I just don't want to burden you with my problems. You have enough of your own as it is."

"Sometimes it's easier to share ones burdens." He turned and, adjusting his saber, leaned on the rail beside her. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "We both have had hard lives. I know that there were times that I wished I could have shared my problems with someone. I had hoped to find that, but then…then my life went all wrong."

"Is it still wrong?"

"I don't know anymore." James sighed. "I thought this is what I wanted. It WAS what I wanted once. But it's lost its luster now."

"Cutler has a way of doing that. He takes what should be most desirous and mutates it into something hideous."

"Has he done that to you?"

"In more ways than you'll ever know." Her voice sounded strained and James leaned forward to look into her face. "He's denied me everything I've ever wanted."

"Like what?" She was silent for sometime. "Well?"

"I'm thinking!" She snapped, but she smiled crookedly as she said it. "When I was ten he took the monkey my father had bought me for my birthday and turned it out of the house. I swore for years he killed it but he always denied it and my father blamed me for losing it." She looked up at James Norrington, her smile broadening.

"You always mock yourself." James said. "What else has he denied you besides a pet? Please, be honest with me."

"He's denied me comfort, security…suitors." She had looked away from him. "I'm not mocking myself on the last either…he told me as much."

"Why would he do such a thing? You've said in the past he wants you far from him…"

"Because though he wants me far from him he still wants to control me." Isabelle tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the rocking and gentle sound of the waves hitting the Dutchman wash over her. "If I were married, he could no longer use me to do his bidding."

"And what does he bid of you now?" Isabelle shook her head.

"I don't think he knows that himself." She whispered into the darkness. "Except perhaps for me to be miserable at all hours of the day." James' hand lay warm upon her shoulder and she turned to face him as a tear sat heavy upon her bottom lashes. She looked away lest he see the tear fall and she quickly swiped it from her eye under the movement of swiping hair from her face.

"Would that I could help…" He said as he turned her to face him. "I think you know I would…"

"I know…I know…" She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed more of her wavy hair from her face. There was a warm feeling and she felt as if she were engulfed in low flames. She opened her eyes to see the soft orange flames flicker around James' features. It was as if he were standing beside several lanterns the glow was so soft and diffused. "Are you angry with me?" She asked suddenly.

"Angry?" James laughed softly. "Far from it…" Isabelle's breath seemed to catch in her throat and she closed her eyes again as James' fingers slipped beneath the high stiff collar of her jacket and entwined in her long hair. The heat that washed over her was a refreshing break from the chill winds that blew across the decks of the Flying Dutchman. Vaguely the memory of the night of the uprising washed over her. This was a similar feeling to one she had experienced then. There were many emotions washing over her.

She kept her yes closed but she knew James Norrington h ad leaned close to her, his breath was warm upon her cheek and for an instant she envisioned his lips brushing across hers. It was not to be. The decking beneath their feet heaved and the acrid stink of gun powder filled the air. Isabelle pulled away from James and looked out to where a ship, its fanlike sails silhouetted against the starry sky was under siege from the massive guns of the Dutchman.

A/N: Sorry everyone, but this is going to have to last you for the weekend. I'm taking my comprehensive exam this weekend and won't have time to upload (or write) a new chapter. Sit tight, I'll get back on it after the weekend.