I watched as my father swung his sword towards Teague, who jumped sharply out of the way and sheathed his own sword as swiftly as he could. Before my father could take another swing, Teague had run to the side of the ship and in one quick move he had leaped over the side that James had fallen over. I heard him splash into the water and I ran to take a look. I could still see the ripple and the splash that Teague had made as he'd jumped in to save my brother. There was a moment of tense silence where nothing happened and neither of them could be seen. I watched the water settle and even though the fully-grown version of James was standing beside me, I still worried about the fate of my brother and I couldn't yet place why.

A few agonising moments passed. My father slowly moved closer to the railing and looked down. Nothing happened. Then I saw the dark shape of the top of Teague's head grow beneath the waves. He broke the surface and I let out a deep breath that I didn't know I'd been holding in. He was clutching James's small body in his arms. He looked limp. Teague lifted him over his shoulder as he swam back to my father's boat. As he struggled to lift him back on deck I saw my father finally leap into action and help drag his son's lifeless body up the side of the boat. As he was laid out on the deck I heard him start to cough and splutter. I saw the water that had been trapped in his lungs hit the deck and his eyes rolled back in his head. Teague moved to help support James's back and get him breathing normally again, but our father wouldn't let him. He held out his hand and with a face that had flushed red with anger shouted, "Do not touch my son!"

I watched Teague raise his hands in surrender to my father's orders and step back. He moved in that calm and quiet way that I was accustomed to. Choosing, largely, to be peaceful rather than violent and to express his anger or disagreement with something through his words, or in this case his facial expression, rather than his fists. While he respected a father's wish by taking that step back, he did not move from the immediate radius of the boy he'd just saved. He didn't turn and run from my father or even draw his sword again. I saw that his eyes were alert and fully trained on James in case he needed to step in again. I vowed then and there to hug Teague the next time I saw him, whether he wanted me to or not. I had always known him to be a man full of a quiet kind of gentle compassion, but I didn't know that it ran as deep as caring for the life of the child of a man that was trying to kill him. My father turned to face Teague once again. He still looked so angry, when he should have been grateful. More than that, he should have been looking after his son, who was still choking on the deck. It made me feel physically sick to watch as James's face reddened and his wide, terrified eyes looked at his father for help. His little body shook every time he coughed.

Teague drew his sword with only enough time to block my father's next blow. His eyes darted from James to my father and back again as the fight continued. James struggled for breath on the deck of his own father's ship, amidst a battle that continued to rage on. "Your son needs you, Admiral," Teague said, his voice was quiet but stern. "Tend to him and let us go to leave you in peace."

"I'll tend to him," my father snarled, "when you are dead."

I saw Teague's eyes roll slightly and then in a few swift moves he managed to knock my father to the ground again. This time, he pinned him there with his boot. James's breathing was becoming slightly more even, but it still sounded painful and I could tell he was panicking. Now he feared for our father's life as well as his own. Around them, the fight was starting to draw to a close as my father's men had become distracted by what was happening to their Admiral and his son, allowing many of Teague's crew to slip away back to their own ship. I saw young Jack appear at his father's side. "Dad," he said. "C'mon, what are you doing?"

"Get me his sword, son," Teague instructed, not taking his eyes off where he had my father pinned to the deck. Jack moved to pick up the sword that had been knocked from my father's hand. He gave it to his father, who raised it and drove it deep into my father's coat and the wooden deck, fixing him there.

"What are you doing, dad?" Jack frowned. "Why don't you kill 'im?"

"Not in front of his son," Teague said quietly. There was a moment of silence and then Jack could hold his tongue no longer.

"Why not?" he asked. "What's he ever done? Why'd you save him?"

"He's not done anything," Teague said. "Which is the point. Children should not suffer for the sins of their fathers." There was a silence as he made sure my father was firmly fixed in position and then he leant down to speak to him one last time. "Admiral. Your son needs you."

With that Teague and Jack made a swift exit from my father's ship as he tried furiously to free himself from his own sword before they could get away. One of his men, who was making his way back to the Navy ship from Teague's, ran to assist him. He pulled the sword out of my father's coat and gave it to him, saluting as he did so. My father scrambled to his feet and looked at the situation to see in which way it could be salvaged, but the fight had quickly turned sour for the Navy. With their Captain on board the Misty Lady, most of the crew had managed to overpower their opponents and flee to their own ship. James raised himself up on shaky hands. "Father," he called, his voice was also shaky. He sounded weak. "Father!"

I saw a vein in my father's neck pulsate with anger, he turned and shouted to his men, "Get him out of here! Get him out of my sight!"

A few Redcoats ran over and picked my brother up. He was carried away as my father preoccupied himself with giving the orders to fire on Teague's ship, which was starting to make an escape. Knowing that Jack and his father survived this and feeling disgusted by my own father, I turned away and went to follow young James. I felt close to tears as I found him alone, crying, in our father's quarters. I sat on the end of the bed that he had tucked himself into and almost cried along with him. "You poor thing," I said quietly, not quite sure which version of my brother I was talking to. Both of them, probably, but obviously the elder was the only one that can hear me.

"It's okay," he said automatically, but I could see that it wasn't. I took his hand.

The door opened and our father entered. James sat up in his bed, trying his very best not to show that he had been crying and appear strong in front of his father. There was a moment of tense silence. "Father," James said, when it became clear that he was not going to speak to him. "Father, why did you try to kill him again?"

"Because," our father said tersely, "he is a pirate."

"But… but…" James said. "But he saved my life."

"He is a wicked man, James," our father said. "And wicked men deserve a wicked death."

"But… saving me wasn't wicked."

James looked confused. Our father sighed. It sounded angry. "One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness," he snapped. I'd heard that before. "Which is what that man is- he's wicked, James. He is a pirate. And to think, my own son had to be saved by the likes of him. Do you have any idea of the shame you have brought upon this family?"

I saw that James was close to crying again. "Father…" he said plaintively.

"A pirate!" our father repeated, sounding disgusted. "A bloody pirate! How are you supposed to succeed if you have to be recused by a pirate?! How are you supposed to follow in my footsteps if the only reason that you are still alive is due to scum like him?! It makes you as good as scum, yourself… my own son! How are you supposed to look after your sister if you can't look after yourself without the help of criminals?"

James's tears had started falling again. "It was an accident!" he protested. "I didn't mean it… I.." I saw our father flush red with anger again as he grabbed a hold of James's shoulders and shook him.

"You have humiliated me tonight, James!" he shouted. "You have brought us nothing but shame and disappointment. If things don't start changing, son, you will have no family to bring any more shame upon. I will not have such a weak son. It would have been better if you had died than been rescued by that man. Then at least you would have died a noble an admirable death, rather than brought this humiliation on us. Do you understand? Do you?!"

James nodded furiously, too scared to continue crying, "I'm sorry…" he stammered. "I'm sorry."

Our father let go of him and said nothing else as he left the room. James sat up and stared at the door, as if waiting for him to come back. When he didn't James sank back down into his pillow and started to cry again, closing his eyes this time in an effort to stop himself. He became frustrated. He screamed in anger at himself and struck out at the pillow underneath him several times before finally burying his face in it. "Stop it," I heard his muffled mutters to himself. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Be strong. Don't be weak. Don't be weak."

After a few moments James fell silent, having finally cried himself to sleep.

I looked up at the older version of my brother and found that I, too, had been crying. James's eyes were bright with unshed tears. He'd never allowed himself to cry in the time that I'd known him. And now I knew why. "My lesson to you is more of an apology, Izzy. I just wanted you to know why I did the things I did. It took me a long time to realise that duty lies not first with King and country, but primarily to your family and the people you love. It's a much better way to live. Much happier. He looked at me and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. "Then again, you've always known that. This wasn't really a lesson you needed. It was one I did."

"Oh, James," I said softly, rising to my feet.

His smile faded. "I'm sorry for everything I did, Isabelle," he sounded so sincere and heartfelt.

"You don't need to apologise," I told him. "I understand now," I said soothingly. "I understand."

"Everything I did," he said, "I did because I wanted to protect you, the family. I didn't want to bring any more shame to any of you. I wanted you to be safe. Especially after mother and father died. It was just me and I… I just didn't want to let you down. Again."

"James," I said, moving towards him. He said nothing and looked away from me. I took a hold of his shoulders in a much more gentle way than our father had done. "You've never let me down," I said fiercely, drawing him into a hug. "Not once."

He wrapped his arms around me and I felt myself well up again. "Thank you," he said quietly and I realised that he was crying a little.

"I'm sorry for when I was difficult, James," I said, feeling guilty for all the grief I had given him over the years. All the times we'd fought. "It can't have been easy on you without mother and father."

"You made it easier, actually, even when you were difficult. I had someone to work for." There was a slight pause. "And it turned out you were right… in the end."

I laughed through my tears. "Did you just admit that you were wrong about something, James?"

"No," he said and although I couldn't see him, I could tell he'd started to smile. "I'm just saying that you were right and I… I was less right." I laughed and there was a moment of silence. "I love you," he said quietly. I hugged him a little closer.

"I love you too," I told him and everything around me began to fade- twisting out of existence. Last to go was James. I felt him becoming less solid in my arms and I panicked. "James!" I called as he slipped away. "James!"

"It's alright, Izzy," I heard his voice, but it was faint. "I'll see you soon."

I was left standing alone among a twisting blur of colour and movement. It made me feel quite sick. Then, slowly, all the shapes began to form new things. First the stone walls and floor of a room. And then all the furnishings came together- a rug, a desk, a chair, tapestries on the walls and curtains on the windows. It was dark, probably night-time. For a moment everything around me was silent. I assumed that I was in Atlantis again, but how could I be sure? How could I know? This could just as easily be someone else's memory. I didn't recognise the room I was in, but that didn't mean I was necessarily in Atlantis. It didn't mean I wasn't either. Then a loud snore rumbled from somewhere behind me and I smiled.

Jack.

I turned around to see him lying, fast asleep, in a bed behind me. It was nice to see him looking so peaceful for a change. I walked over and sat down beside him. After a moment I lay down and turned my head on the pillow to look at him. In his sleep, he rolled over to face me. I studied his face in silence. I didn't want to wake him. He deserved this rest; more than that he needed it. Despite him being deep in sleep, he still looked pale and I could see visible bags under his eyes. His mouth hung slightly open. I smiled and reached out a hand, almost touching his cheek, but I stopped myself. If I remembered correctly everything in this world was a few degrees hotter than I was. Trying to hold his hand before had made me feel as if my skin was almost on fire. So, surely for him it would be ice-cold. And that would wake him. I lowered my hand again and rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

With Jack sleeping, I had time to reflect on everything I had seen and learnt. Pulling out the various skeletons in my family closet had been difficult, surprisingly so. My mother's lost love, my parent's lost child and my brother's lost childhood were all various storms that had whipped themselves up into a hurricane inside me. I had never met my mother's James, but I felt their pain over an impossible love story. I had resented my brother for so long because of the choices he'd made, but I'd never stopped to think of the reasons behind them. I'd never even known of his pain. And my parent's lost child was a sibling that I would never know. In all of this mess I felt lost and out of place. There was nothing I could do to help my mother or the pain she had felt. I hadn't been there to help her, my father and James through losing their middle child. I hadn't even existed then and they'd hidden it from me. James had hidden his conflict with our father too. I knew that they had been doing it to protect and shield me, but I couldn't help but feel a bit left out of the family loop. I had always been the youngest, always felt overly protected and I was sick of it. I would have preferred it if they had told me how they were feeling and what they had been through when they were still alive, so that I could try and help them. Maybe I couldn't. Maybe that was why they never told me. I felt useless.

And then the guilt came crashing down on me.

Was it selfish of me to feel left out? How could I lie here and complain that they hadn't told me anything when they had all been through so much? How could I even compare to that?

I just wanted to help them.

The hurricane inside me sped up and I felt sick. More than that, I felt like I was falling and spinning out of control. I was lost. Everything I had thought I had known about my family had been pulled out from under my feet. I needed somewhere solid to land. I needed… I needed…

Another snore made me turn my head towards Jack and in that moment I was still again.

I just looked at him, tracing his face with my eyes instead of my fingers. I lay and listened to him breathing. In that moment, it didn't matter that he wasn't awake. It didn't matter that we couldn't speak, of that I couldn't see his eyes. I didn't even matter that he didn't know I was there. All that mattered was that we were together. In that moment, I was calm.

Just seeing him changed my mood. I felt myself relax after the intensity of my brother's story. I didn't care about what danger Blackbeard and George might have in store for me. I felt at peace with what had been and what was to come. Just looking at him I felt like I was home. I smiled, "I love you, Jack," I said quietly.

In his sleep, he smiled back. His eyes flickered open and he looked at me. "Mornin'," he yawned. "LoveyouBelle," he murmured so sleepily that all of his words ran together. I smiled as he closed his eyes again. Then I saw the look of grogginess freeze and he frowned. I'd seen that look before. It's the look he gets when he's just realised something. His eyes snapped open. "Belle?"

He smiled at me and the hurricane died down.

Hey! Sorry this took a while. I've simultaneously had my end of first year Uni exams and some difficult stuff to deal with in my home life, but thank you all so much for reading. It really means a lot. I love you guys :) Review if you can.

Review Replies:

GoTeamSkipper- Hahaha, I'm sorry! I might just start calling you Mrs Norrington, if that's how you're feeling about him ;) I wish we'd seen a Young Jack in the movie, although I'm not sure my emotions could have handled it. Imagine that mini-bandana!

EponineSparrow- Aww good! I'm sure James is grateful for those hugs :)

PirateNinjaCJS- Thank you! I've always loved James a wee bit. Also, I got your mail, I'll reply in the morning, love :)

Sookdeo- Haha, yes. Duty comes first. Poor, scrawny little James :P

GrimReaper'sDaughter- Yes, I am cruel. I won't appologise for that because it amuses me. Thank you for taking the time to read and review :)

kedatz17- Thank you :) I bet Jack really was cute when he was little. And James too!

Guest- My, my you are persistent! Your constant reviews made me laugh, so thank you. And thanks for being so invested in this story and the lovely things you said about the characters and plot. Please don't cry. I'm sorry I took so long.