"Help! Help! Someone please!" A young girl cried at the top of her lungs. She was clinging onto the body of a young boy, sitting as still as she could as not to upset the precarious balance of the board they were floating on. They had drifted slightly away from the wreckage, and the girl thought that they were doomed. She was hard-pressed to admit it, but for all the love she had of the sea, she hated it at that moment.

It had claimed the lives of the crew she had come to love and sucked away any chance she had of escaping her life. Through the haze of cannon fire and rushing crew members, the girl had only just been able to hear the Captain's shouts for her to grab the little boy and jump ship. The boy himself, William, had tread water as long as he could before debris had knocked him out. She had dragged him onto a floating piece of deck and clambered on as well.

After that it had been quiet for a very long time, the only sounds her ragged breathing. She was just about to fall asleep, intent on retaining any strength she had, when she saw the ship. She thought she had gone mad at first, for it was not the evil, but admittedly beautiful, ship that had attacked her own. It was less elegant and fierce looking, and the colors were bold, sporting the English flag. For a moment, she almost didn't call out. For a moment, she didn't want to be rescued, if it would be by that ship. But she pushed it aside and emptied her young lungs into her scream for salvation.

She heard a deep voice shouting "Men overboard!" She and William were hauled from the water by their piece of wood and lowered onto the pristine deck. A man of about twenty, wearing a brown wig, dropped to her eye level. He looked at her with concerned grey eyes that took into account the several wounds she had accumulated. Some older than the attack on the Seawolf,but he couldn't know that from only a glance.

"Are you alright miss?" he asked in what he hoped was a gentle tone. The young Elizabeth had already moved to the front of the crowd, staring openly at the two. The girl raised her head and for a moment looked almost regal.

"Yes, I am fine. William was knocked out. He has been unconscious for a while," she said in a strong voice. Norrington looked her over again and thought she looked to be fourteen at most, a mere two years older than Elizabeth.

"Good. And your name?" he asked on pretense. He had been raised properly enough to know you asked someone's name upon meeting them.

"Annabelle Wi-Wesson," she corrected, shivering for the effect of tripping over her own last name. Norrington nodded his confirmation and barked the orders for a blanket. "And the boy?" he asked.

"William. I do not know his last name," she said softly. If not for the situation, perhaps James would have thought it odd that her speech was so proper. But at the time it hadn't occurred to him.

They were coming up on the wreckage. Splinters of wood and tattered cargo were strewn about the remainders of the helm. Only one mast could be seen, and it was dipping precariously into the water, carrying its flames to other debris. Annabelle visibly paled and shifted until her body covered Will's, as though protecting him from the sights.

"Mary Mother of God!" Came the exclamation of an older sailor as he spotted the disastrous remains. Norrington left the survivors to survey the wreckage, his mind on autopilot. He knew what had done this, knew in the very center of his being. But he had learned at an early age to keep such suspicions to himself. He was aware that the future Governor of the port they were sailing to had arrived beside him. The older man cast a few sad glances at the girl, who was bleeding in several places, before turning to the young Lieutenant as he spoke.

"What happened here?" the question was so full of fear that for a moment, Swann was ashamed of himself. He regained his composure and awaited his answer.

"It's most likely the powder magazine. Merchant vessels run heavily armed," Norrington tried to say off-handedly.

"A lot of good it did them," the same sailor spoke up. "Everyone's thinkin' it. I'm just sayin' it. Pirates," he spat the word. As one the crew looked to the young girl. Her blue-grey eyes fixed on the older man and gave an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Suddenly unable to look at them, the girl turned her back on them completely, taking instead to holding the boys hand.

"I'm Elizabeth Swann," the little girl introduced herself, not aware that Annabelle wanted to be alone. Annabelle nodded her understanding, but didn't look up from the boy. "How do you know him?"

"I do not," came the honest answer. "He was just a cabin boy. But when the Captain saw the pirates, he ordered me to look after him. So that's what I'm doing." her voice was strong and defiant, almost daring the other girl to challenge her.

Elizabeth showed no indication of being offended, only nudged her way closer to the boy. She already felt a connection with him, drawn for some reason to the pale survivor. She leaned down, as if to brush the wet hair away from his face only to gasp sharply. Will had woken with a violent inhale and latched onto the offending hand.

"It's okay, my name's Elizabeth Swann," she said softly, once she regained her calm.

"W-W-Will Turner," he responded with difficultly. He turned to the slightly older girl and looked at her with shock. "Y-you were the one w-who s-saved me?" he asked incredulously. From what little he could remember, he recalled her to be a proper young girl with social issues. He had attempted to talk to her once on the voyage and was met with a blank stare and a small flinch. He'd left her alone after that.

"Yes. I'm Annabelle. Go back to sleep, Will. You're alright," she said soothingly. Against his will, he found himself complying with her request. Before he slipped into oblivion he heard her soft whisper. "I'll take care of you."

Norrington returned to the ship looking considerably disheartened. There had been no other survivors. "Ms. Wesson," he called with a somewhat desperate edge to his voice. She stood shakily and walked over to him, leaving Elizabeth to find the medallion.

"Yes sir?" she asked, looking up at him carefully.

"You need medical attention. You will be seen to in my cabin while the boy is taken below," he informed her, struggling somewhat to remove the callus nature of his position. Surprisingly she turned abruptly to him.

"I am not going to be separated from him," she informed him, her tone firm. He blinked and looked her over more carefully. Blue-grey eyes spoke of intelligence and (at the moment) sorrow, dark brown hair falling out of the bun it had been in and spilling over her shoulders in slightly curling strands, and a lightly tanned heart-shape face. Her posture was insistent, even if she only came up to his mid-chest.

"Only long enough to get you the care you need, then," he amended. She stared at him a long moment before breaking out into a small smile. James couldn't help but notice how much she lit up when she smiled.

"What's your name, Lieutenant?" she asked, looking him over. Norrington was surprised to say the least, but managed to bury it quickly. She looked a bit embarrassed by her knowledge of his rank, so he decided not to touch on it.

"James Norrington," he said with something akin to a smile. She held out her hand and he took it in his own, noting how small hers was. He lead her to his cabin where the ships' doctor would tend to her.

The girl winced sharply as the doctor peeled away the outer layers of her blue cotton dress. Norrington had left her so she could retain modesty and went to find her some spare clothes. Being older, she would not fit in Elizabeth's dresses, so she would have to deal with the Navy uniforms he had.

The doctor's touch was not as soothing as she thought it was meant to be, and the many pokes and prods only succeeded in worsening her pain. Though the elderly man did make a few comments on the number of older bruises, he did nothing about them. Only bandaged the cuts appropriately and tended to the rather severe burns across her arms and leg.

When Norrington reappeared, he averted his eyes as he handed her the uniform. "It's all we have, I'm sorry," he said tersely. She took them gratefully and waited for him to leave. He coughed awkwardly and left her alone in his cabin. She changed quickly, feeling strange in the pants. She had to tie it up with a sash she found lying against a chair and slipped on the shirt.

She walked stiffly out of the cabin and looked around the deck. The unnatural fog that had accompanied the pirate ship had blown off almost completely, and now she needed to rest. She turned to look for someone to lead her to Will and found herself in front of an elderly sailor.

"Sir?" she asked softly. The man jerked suddenly and stuffed a flask into his inside jacket pocket.

"Aye?" he asked gruffly.

"Could you take me to the boy?" she asked. He nodded and began walking below. She followed him and gave him a side-long glance. "I'm Annabelle. You can call me Annie, though," she told him, feigning brightness. She rarely allowed anyone to call her anything but her birth name, but she liked the man.

"Joshabee Gibbs. People call me Gibbs," he said nonchalantly. She nodded and continued following him. "Missy?" he asked. She looked at him, gesturing for him to continue. "What did the ship look like?" he asked.

Annabelle shuddered for a moment before answering. "It was huge… and beautiful. Stained black, so dark… it had ripped black sails. I don't know how it moved," she whispered.

"The Black Pearl," Gibbs confirmed with a certain reverence. She looked at him carefully.

"A pretty name for a damned ship," she commented. He nodded his agreement and stopped in front of a small cabin.

"Here ya are Miss Annie," he said opening it. Inside was the small Elizabeth, crouched over a still-sleeping Will. The girl looked up sharply and her cheeks reddened.

"I'll just leave you to get some rest," she whispered, rushing past her. Annabelle sent her a curious glance, but shrugged it off. She smiled at Gibbs and walked into the room.

"Thank you very much Mister Gibbs. I'll see you in the morning," she bid him goodnight. He smiled to himself and left her. There was only one bed, but thankfully, Will had dried off. She kicked off the slipper-like shoes and slid into the bed next to him. Unconsciously, her arms cradled the younger boy. He blinked awake, seeming more aware now. "Shh, Will. Go back to sleep."

"Will you stay?" he asked softly. She smiled and a gentle expression crossed her face. She pulled aside a few strands of his hair and nodded.

"I'll protect you," she promised, laying her head onto the pillow next to him. He held onto her tightly as he fell back into a slightly easier sleep.