I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney does. I only own the characters who weren't in the movies. You know, the ones I made up. I also do not own Ambassador Alexander Swann, Isabella Swann, or Count Philip Rochester, who belong to Vilofied.

"If you could please pass me that bucket of water, Mr. Springs."

Two weeks we'd been locked away in the brig, in those little cells. The men, of which lives I'd saved were being called out nearly every day to scrub the deck or do other such things. But when they came back, oh, what a site they were. Some of them came back filthy, but otherwise in good condition. Others, however, looked to be abused to the highest degree, and near death. So far, four of my men have died from poor treatment.

"Here, Sir. This is as close as I can get it to you." The sailor said, pressing the bucket to the bars separating us in our cells.

I was trying to take care of one of my latest abused men. Not even a man, but a boy. He was but ten years of age, a cabin boy, and had had the fire beaten out of him. Not his face or his front, but his back. He hadn't been wipped or thrown around, but beaten with a blunt instrument of some sort. His back was a mess. It was bruised, bloddied, and had wounds that, if he lived, would leave horrible scars.

"Here, Admiral." Another sailor piped up. "It can serve as a rag."

Upon reaching through the bars, I found that the offered piece of cloth was a clean shirt sleeve that had been ripped from said sailor's shirt. I took it with a nod and a mumbled 'thank you', before soaking it and applying it gently to the open wounds.

"Easy, lad." I said gently when the boy flinched, and sighed upon examining one of the worst of the wounds. "I need someone to hold him down."

"Why? What are you going to do?" The lad panicked. He tried to get up, but his weak arms and legs failed him, and he flopped back down on the damp floor of the cell.

"Just stay calm, lad." A sailor, whom I knew as Mullroy, said as he voluntarily ventured to the lad and pinned his arms down. "We'll be finished before you know it."

Another sailor, Murtogg, also ventured forward and pinned the lad's legs down. "He's right, lad. The Admiral will be finished in no time."

When I was certain the lad was held down securely, I began to clean the heavily dirtied wounds with the soacked rag. The lad squirmed and grunted, and even cried out, but Mrtogg and Mullroy held him steady. Other sailors in the cell who'd been watching the event came to the lad as well, and aided Murtogg and Mullroy in keeping the lad pinned down, and also put in a few words of comfort.

"Steady, lad." I said in a calm voice. "I'm nearly done."

Thanks to the helping hands of my men, I finished cleaning the lad's wounds in a matter of minutes. The lad, who was exhausted after all of this, offered a weak thank you, before promptly falling asleep.

I, having nothing else to do after cleaning my hands, stood and made my way to the ceel door, and leaned against the bars. It was there that I saw Jack Sparrow and some of his crew in the cell across from mine, and scowled at him after actually daring to look at him for the first time in the two weeks we'd been locked up.

"Mate." he nodded, offering a weak, gold-toothed grin.

"Trial or not," I gritted out, "I will watch you hang. You're the reason these fine men and boys are dying."

"Time and tide, mate. I'm a pirate, and did what I had to to save my neck." he said quietly.

"Mark my words, Mr. Sparrow. You will suffer the consequences for the deaths of the lives on my crew." I growled at him."

"Here, here!" Some of my men chimed in behind me.

Sparrow only grinned. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mates!" he laughed. "I'll find a way out of this mess!"

"I'll watch you hang by your own striped sash first!" A sailor in the cell next to mine shouted.

"Aye!" Another sailor agreed.

"Huzza!" Said another.

I couldn't help but smile inwardly at the reactions Sparrow was getting from my crew. Perhaps I wasn't the only man on the ship wanting to strangle the pirate right on the spot.

"And we'll murder you Navy bastards before you get the chance!" One of the pirates shouted back.

Soon enought the brig was filled with heated shouts and threats between my Navy crew and sparrow's pirate crew, and all the while I only glared at Sparrow while he grinned.

"Shut up, you scurvy bastards! Shut up!"

Both crews became silent when a man from George's crew shouted, and fired his pistol.

"You!" he said, pointing one of his filthy fingers at me. "Captain wants to have a word with you."

Before I could say or do anything, I was roughly removed from my cell, and nearly shoved against the bars of another cell had I not caught myself. Immediately after this even both crews broke the silence with more heated shouts. The pirate crew shouted that I hadn't been handled roughly enough, while my crew shouted that I was handled too roughly. The man from George's crew only ignored them, however, and put shackles on my wrists.

"Easy men." I told them quietly as I was so roughly ushered down the semi-slimy hall.

The smell of the fresh, ocean breeze blowing gently on my face was a relief compared to the stuffy, dank, mold-smelling air of the brig. I tilted my chin up and took in a good whiff before the pirate shoved me across the actually well-kept deck, all the way to the captain's cabin, where the pirate knocked, and then shoved me in upon hearing the captain give the order.

The cabin was quite large, with many windows; a nice view of the sea, really. A large bed was pushed in the upper left corner, nice-sized desk in the upper right corner, and a dining table overflowing with maps, all manner of food, rubbish, and weapons.

Geoarge was standing near the table, a leering grin caressing his lips. "Admiral. So nice to see you again."

"It doesn't go both ways, I assure you." I replied bitterly.

George chuckled, and stepped forward to 'examine' me, so to say. "Still a fiesty bastard after all this time, aye?" he said as he traced a scar on my shoulder.

It was so humid down in the brig that I, along with my men, had removed my coat, waistcoat, cravat, and unbuttoned my shirt to about my abdomen. Some of the men had taken it so far as to remove their shirts, but I, obviously, had chosen not to. Now then. In the course of taking care of the lad's wounds, my shirt had gone a bit crooked, and revealed most of my scarred right shoulder.

"Always in an uptight, stuffy mood." he chuckled, circling me. "Your men don't seem to resent me as much as you do."

"My men aren't aware of the things you've done to women and children." I growled. "They aren't aware of the damage you did when you used to sail with your brother."

"Oh! That was just a bit of fun!" he laughed. "Now if you're done living the past, Admiral, we have a few things to discuss."

To my very slight surprise, George motioned for me to sit at the table. I did so grudgingly, and eyes the food curiously as my stomach growled.

"Eat, Admiral, and we'll discuss our little proposition."

"I won't dine while my men are starving in the brig." I muttered.

"Ah! Quite the honorable man, aren't you?!" he roared with laughter. "WEll then, if you're not hungry.."

I found myself being jerked to my feet, and in the middle of the room once again.

"Remove your shirt." he said.

I furrowed my brows, and started to object, when he pulled out that pistol he so seemed to favor. With a growl I untucked my shirt and unbuttoned it the rest of the way, then allowed it to slide off of my shoulders and into a tangled half circle that started and stopped at each of my elbows.

"Strong back, I see." The captain muttered.

I stiffened when the man went behindme, and traced individual scars on my exposed skin. The man was really irritating me, and if he didn't stop soon I was going to lunge at him.

"so it is true." he said. "He did beat you. John had a battle wound in his right arm, one he recieved from you, I believe, which caused him to strike a certain pattern on his viticms, very similar on different ones that came across him and were fortunate, or unfortunate, for that matter, to live to show them off. Now then. While you're half undressed..."

My body was flung across the room so quickly that my head began to spin. Sharp rods of pain across my back told me that I was being struck with something long, stiff, and blunt. When my senses came back to me, I rolled across the floor, several feet away from the pirate, and got to my feet as quickly as I could. Only then did I see that the blunt instrument wasn't really blunt at all, but a young sapling that appeared to be three feet long, very thin, and had a knot at the end where the roots had been pulled from the base of the plant.

Angered, George threw a plate full of food at me. I barely dodged it, and heard it shatter not far behind me. In an act of desperation, I turned the table over, and by this time another crew member had entered (one of my former crewmemebers, might I add), with a daggar in each hand.

I took advantage of the short moment of which the pirate captain and crew member were distracted and grabbed a chair, holding it in their directions. "Stay back!" I yelled.

The two stared at me, wide-eyed, before George roared with that strangled-sounding laugh of his. "A chair, Admiral? You plan to fight two armed pirates with a chair?"

"I wouldn't put it past him, Sir." The crewmember said. "He's full of surprises. He could do anything with that chair!"

"Oh?" George asked. "Well then, why don't you go see what he can do instead of standing there like an idiot!" he growled, throwing the man by the collar at me.

The man stuck the daggars out in front of him, but they did him no good. I broke the chair over his head before he had a chance to do anything. With that crewman unconsious and out of the way, I looked back to Ghastly George, only to find him leaping at me, knife in hand. I didn't have any time to react before the man was on me, his knife at my throat after I'd fallen on the ground, my arms pinned beneath him.

"Oh, I love it when my victims make it so much harder on themselves!" he smirked. "If you had just sat down and shut up, we could have avoided all of this. Now then. I have something I want to tell you."

I nodded grudgingly for him to continue.

"Now as you know, you are a very important pawn for the Crown. A pawn that the Crown would be very willing to pay money for...A lot of money." he smiled. "Especially considering the fact that that brain of yours contains vital information about the Admiralty, and other such things. So..." he said, shifting his weight atop me, "I'm going to write a letter to the Crown, and you're going to write a letter to your lovely."

Grudgingly, I took the quill and parchment that he offered me, and began to write.

I was floating. I was drifting to who knew where in the Caribbean ocean, and I had no control over it.

"How is she?"

Well, it felt that way.

"I can't tell if she's coming or going."

My head was swimming, and I couldn't tell the difference between floating on the ocean, or floating on a sea of bed sheets.

"How long has she been like this?"

"What do you mean? Sick, or delirious?"

My pulse was randomly speeding up and slowing down, and I could tell that sweat had broken out on my forehead.

"Both, Oliver! How long has she been this way?!"

"She's been sick since James left on his voyage. She's been delirious for the past few days."

"Why hasn't a doctor been here?"

"There has been! Several times! They thought she was still weak from child birth. When they figured out it wasn't that, they tried to bleed her. She hasn't wanted them near her since then."

I could vaguely tell that footsteps were nearing me, and then I could feel a cool hand on my forehead. "James..." I whispered.

"No, darling. It's Philip, and Isabella is on the other side of the bed. We're going to help Oliver take care of you and the baby."

"Baby..." I whispered. "Where is my baby? My Melody...Little Melody..."

"She's in her nursery just down the hall, darling. She'll be fine." Philip answered.

"What is wrong with me?" I whimpered.

Philip sighed. "We don't know. All we know is that it isn't contagious, because we've all been in contact with you, and we're fine. We're going to find out what is wrong, don't worry."

My body jerked when another hand was touched my face. I realized that hand was smaller, and smoother. A woman's hand, perhaps?

"You're running fever, cherie. You need water."

Ah. Isabella. I relaxed upon finding out it was another person I actually knew. Doctors, however, were a different story. No doctors. They didn't need to be anywhere near me.

I tensed upon feeling myself being sat up. My body was so stiff, so sore. I couldn't really keep my eyes open either. My eyelids just felt so heavy that I couldn't open them to see the glass of water coming toward my lips. I had to feel the cool glass touch me first, and then feel the water once the glass had been tipped. I raised my hands slightly when I'd gotten my fill of water, and then winced once more when I was eased back down.

"James..." I whispered. "Where are you, James? Why did you have to leave?"

The last things I heard were my own slurred, twisted words before I fell into a deep, uneasy sleep.

Okay, I'm reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaalllllllyyyyyyyyyy sorry for taking so long to update. You all know my excuses. School gets really crazy at this time of the year, and life. Anyway. Poor Chrissy! Will she make through? Will James get back to her before she passes, if she does pass? If you review you'll find out! Please review! Thank you!