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Chapter Text

James lowers himself gingerly into his seat, one hand pressed to the bandages wrapped around his stomach the other to the steadying weight of his desk. Every movement feels like the blow of Hendrick’s meaty fist slamming into his body but James grits his teeth and bares it until he seats himself in the stiff hardbacked chair.

He stares at the paper stacked in large piles and takes another breath, a week bedridden and it seems that that his work has quadruped.

He takes the first piece of paper ignoring the tremor in his fingers as he places it in front of him. It was likely to be a long night though James welcomes the distraction. His bed called to him like the mythical sirens who lured sailors to their doom. James is sure if he lays down he would not emerge from his bed for days, which was exactly what the doctors had ordered. James has other plans.

The scratch of the quill is soothing as darkness sweeps into the room, paper work is James’ least favourite activity but now it gives him purpose and focus.

It feels an age before he lifts his head from his work, his back creaking in protest as he shifts in his seat and his eyes widen as a figure steps out of the shadows with a grace that unnerves him even now.

“Jack!” He begins to rise, to greet his lover but pain lances through his body and tears threaten to prickle at the back of his eyes.

“Don get up on me accoun” Jack says, his hand heavy and warm on James’ shoulder but intractable, pushing the Commodore back into his chair.

James studies Jack’s face. The room was illuminated only by the candle on James’s desk and it threw shadows across Jack’s face. Jack’s eyes are onyx and unreadable.

“Heard you tangled wi Hendrick’s an’ his crew” Jack’s jaw is tight.

James frowns, “you’re angry?” He leans back, trying to see more of Jack’s face from a safer distance.

“I didn’t know there was any love lost between you two”

James ventures.

Hendricks was notorious throughout the Caribbean, tough and merciless he pillaged towns and left little in his wake but terror and broken lives, Jack has spoken ill of him often.

“No love lost ‘tween us,” Jack says. He settles on the edge of James’s desk. He motions between himself and James. “Us on the ‘tother hand…” he trails off meaningfully and James feels a flush begin at the nape of his neck.

“This is my job, Jack!” James finds himself retreating back onto safer ground. Jack’s moods were mercurial and on a hare trigger and James is in no mood to manoeuvre through them.

“Your job to almost die at the hands of that brute!”

“Yes!” James says, bitingly, his accent sharpening. “Of course it’s my job, you should know that by now! He had terrorised people and it’s my job to stop him!”

“All by yerself?” Jack scowls his temper burning through his earlier strangeness. Instead of the cool onyx his eyes now burn.

“I wasn’t by myself!” James protests.

Jack waves a finger in his face. “Didn’t ya mam tell ya it’s naughty ta lie, specially to ones who share yer bed”

The flush burns the back of James’s neck hotter but he can’t tell if it’s embrassment or anger.

“My men were busy dealing with Hawkin’s crew I made a decision in the moment to take the man down while I had the chance surely you can understand that!” James implores. He knows Jack understands, they are both men of action, of honour however much Jack protests. Jack would’ve done the same in his position, he is sure.

“I understand he beat ya within an inch of ya life!” Jack says he braces both hands on the arms of James’s chair trapping him in his seat.

“I understand ya almost died. I understand I had to hear it from Elizabeth”

Being this close to Jack always set James’ nerves on fire but unlike the fire that always burns between them this rage in Jack’s face was new. Jack always has many faces, too many for James to count but this is one he’s never seen. He’s not afraid though he supposes he should be but his heart beats uncomfortably beneath his shirt.

“Jack….”

“Didn’ think ta send word to ol’ Jack ey? Spose I shoul hear it from the grapevine eye?”

“No of course not!” James says, he feels as if he is aboard a ship in a storm despite being fixed to his chair. It hadn’t crossed his mind to send word to Jack about his injury, what could Jack have done? He was not a doctor and though they have shared each other’s bed these last few months Jack has made it plain that it was a diversion or as he put it “a better way to pass their time together” James has foolishly given his heart to Elizabeth and she had chosen Will Turner he was determined not to repeat his mistake with Jack. It was passion between them nothing more. It couldn’t be more.

“There was nothing you could have done,” James says, “unless surgery is among your list of talents there would’ve been nothing you could do, I would have sent word to you if I had a place to send it!”

That was one of the unspoken tenants between them. Jack didn’t tell him where he was going so that it wouldn’t put James in an untenable position.

Jack’s hand moves from one of the armrests to James’s face, ghosting over the sharp cheekbones mottled with bruises. The hard lines of Jack’s face soften as he takes in the damage afflicting his lovers face.

“Coulda died” Jack murmurs, “coulda died wi’out me”

Something hot lodges in James’s throat. Tenderness like this was reserved for their bed never out of it and somehow that was worse then the sharp words.

“I didn’t die, Jack” James matches Jack’s soft tone. “I’m right here”

Jack seems lost in his own world, fingers tenderly caressing James’s features as if reassuring himself of James’s health or something else, who ever knew with Jack.

“Right here,” Jack repeats. His hand slides under the commodore’s shirt to press against James’s heart, he can feel the ridge of the stitches across the man’s chest.

The air is heavy and James feels as if he were drowning. He was losing his grip, Jack’s tenderness always awoke something in James that he tried to strangle. He’s been vulnerable before and Jack was much more dangerous then Elizabeth has ever been, Elizabeth had had the good grace to give his heart back after she had rejected him, he doubted Jack would be so kind. The pirate would take his heart and head for the horizon without a second glance.

Jack’s tenderness was much more dangerous then the knife Hendrick’s had pressed to his throat, more dangerous and more capricious then the waters of the Caribbean. He would drown if he wasn’t careful and James Norrington was always careful.

“If you have come for a roll in the sheets I’m afraid I am in no condition to oblige you,” James says, trying to shake Jack out of his compulsion, trying to save himself before he said something he couldn’t take back, before he let Jack rob him of his one treasure.

It works, Jack reels back, a coldness settling over his face and James lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.

“Take care commodore,” Jack says his voice taking on a lilting, dangerous edge. His eyes shark like and devoid of emotion.

“There be pirates about,” in one sudden movement Jack lunges forward presses a kiss to James’ forehead and the next moment James is alone with only the fluttering of curtains the only sign the pirate has been in the room.

Chapter Text

Jack knows better then to slam a door but the desire is almost overwhelming. Never in his life has a lover needled him in in such a way, he has always walked away before a lover could get their talons into him, it seems that James has done so in record time and without Jack noticing.
The rage fuels him, his throat parched and he’s never needed rum more desperately in his life.

Damn Norrington to the blackest depths of the locker! Damn him for not leaving well enough alone damn his damn duty that saw him almost die at a monster’s hand and call it honour.

He tilts the bottle of rum up to his mouth and drinks and drinks. It burns all the way down but it’s nothing compared to the burn of James laissez-faire attitude towards his own life.

He has told James over and over not to tangle with Hendricks, the man was a monster with no thought to killing indiscriminately whether for treasure or for his own pleasure. Why hadn’t he listened to him? What has possessed James to brawl with a man like that and alone?

Bitterness quirks Jack’s mouth. Honour and duty of course. James would never shirk his duty even if it killed him. Rule fucking Britannia.

And it had never crossed his mind to pick up a quill to tell his erstwhile lover that he had been injured.

At the edge of Norrington’s property cloaked in shadow Jack stares up into James’s window. He can see a shadow move as James moves about he waits for the candle to snuff out to signal James had gone to bed but to his surprise the light remains constant. No sleep for James then.

A bitter part of Jack rejoices. Good. Let James fester like Jack has these last days, tossing and turning with worry. It soothes some of Jack’s pride to see James as troubled as he. Too often James seems unattainable even when they were abed. The cool British reserve that never quite melts away no matter how much pleasure they gave each other.

Jack took another pull of his bottle, it no longer burns on the way down his throat. He braces his hands against the rough bark of the tree denoting the edge of Norrington’s garden. A step or three and he would no longer be in Norrington’s territory. Jack found it impossible to move.

It had been a shock to see the abuse Hendrick’s had doled out upon James’s face. Unfrocked and without his wig James always looked younger more vulnerable. Less commodore Norrington more Jamie, the man who shared his bed. To see the bruises and scarring on that face had unmoored Jack more than he was willing to admit. Feeling the thick bulge of bandages wrapped around his torso where he had been stabbed had almost sent Jack into a rage he wasn’t sure he could have come back from. And then to hear James speak so cavalierly about the ordeal. To speak of duty as if that meant anything when Jack could feel the price had been unconscionable.

Jack slammed his hand against the trunk of the tree. A few leaves fluttered to the ground but the rum blunted the pain in his hand. He’d kissed James underneath the moonlight by this tree, everywhere he looked there were memories, memories of their passion but apparently not their love.

Damn

Damn

Damn

Damn James Norrington

Damn James

Damn Jamie

He spun on his heel striding away without a backward glance. He passed Elizabeth and Will’s home with only a twinge of regret but he didn’t want to face them with this rage choking him. He’d go, there were many prosperous prospects still in the Caribbean despite James’s best efforts. He’d come to see James alive. He had done so, now he would go and leave commodore Norrington to his dull little port. Jack had his full share of others, he would forget James in a week. Let Norrington have his duty and his pride, let it keep him warm in the night, Jack was certainly not going to do so anymore.

Chapter Text

James is drowning and only she notices. The fort runs like clockwork, smoothly and efficiently, James works and works and works and no one sees that he is struggling to keep his head above water. He is marooned whilst standing on dry land. Lost and alone with nothing but his own steel will to keep him standing. And each day Jack stays away is a day that hope of rescue from James’s lonely island fades.

Her father thinks he is pining away for her; Elizabeth lets him, it is far easier to explain then James being in love with a pirate. Everyday she plans to talk to James and every day she loses her nerve she has no idea what to say. Will has slightly better luck, James has become something of a mentor to Will and the two men spend quite a lot of time together but Will has had no luck drawing James out, the Commodore deftly side steps personal questions with aplomb.

It’s after a month of silence from Jack and a handful of carefully respectful refusals of dinner from James that Elizabeth strengthens her spine and decides to intercede.

It is that decision that brings her to James’ office, he looks surprised to see her but ushers her into a chair. When the pleasantries are dealt with Elizabeth pushes an envelope across the desk.

“I’d like to invite you to dinner,” Elizabeth says as James picks up the envelope.

“That’s very kind of you,” James says “I am sure I’ll be able to make some time this week.”

He’s been saying that every week for a month and Elizabeth has reached her limit.

“Tonight James.” Elizabeth says her tone authoritative. “I’m not leaving until you are ready to
come with me”

James passes a hand over his forehead, and for a moment Elizabeth sees just how exhausted he really is and it breaks her heart. James is truly a wonderful man, deserving of happiness, the fact that that happiness lay in the hands of a pirate had once made Elizabeth smile, now it made her sad.

“I cannot tonight….” James runs his hand over his chin, avoiding her eyes until the last possible moment and Elizabeth realises he’s about to ask her about Jack and that she has no idea what to say if he does.

He shakes himself, draws all of his military strength and the moment of vulnerability vanishes as if it were never there.

“Of course,” he says at last. “I would love to dine with you and Will,”

Elizabeth smiles but it’s tinged with a little sadness. She wants to tell James to follow his heart like she had but that’s not James. James is sturdy and steadfast, duty and honour and Jack is….well Jack and each were as stubborn as an ox. Jack will drown his heartache in rum until he can no longer feel the pain and James will outrun his pain with duty before either concedes even an inch.

Elizabeth wants to knock their heads together. For all his power and status for all that he has achieved, right this second James looks very alone.

“I’m afraid I won’t be good company,” James offers, “I fear my mind is….elsewhere” he gazes out the window, out to the vast stretch of water he loves, out to Jack wherever he’s holed up.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth says at last. “We just want your company.”

James laughs but it has a hollow tone to it that hurts Elizabeth’s heart.

“Surely you and Will have better things to do then to hear my tale of woe” James says, attempting levity yet falling several feet short. If James talks, she and Will would stay up all night but she doubts that will happen. James Norrington’s heart is a lock box and only Jack Sparrow has the key.

He looks directly at her then, deep green eyes burning into her own and they are as bleak as she has ever seen them. There’s is a hopelessness in his gaze that she could never have dreamed she would see.

“Things would be a great deal easier…..that is to say…” he stands as if he cannot bear to sit still a moment longer and moves to the window, gazing out. He cuts a lovely yet lonely figure against the coming darkness outside. He looks like a figure from the pirate novels she read as child. How strange it was now, as an adult, to see a commodore and a pirate fall in love. It would make a great story, Elizabeth thinks. The dashing rogue pirate and the handsome commodore, enemies yet lovers. But, Elizabeth wondered, was there a place for that kind of love outside of al story? James’s next words tell her he had the same thoughts. “I am glad that you found Will, and I don't begrudge you loving him…but that day you almost drowned I fear it has led me down a path that I cannot come back from.”

The day he met Jack Sparrow

“Do you truly wish you hadn’t met him” She doesn’t need to say his name it’s patently obvious who she is speaking of and Jack has the uncanny ability to be present even he is a thousand miles away, dominating all thought and feeling.

James’s jaw locks tight.“Right now? Yes”

Elizabeth doesn’t let the shock show on her face but she feels it down to her bones. The situation was much worse than she first thought. A simple lovers tiff was much easier to navigate then whatever had befallen James and Jack.

First steps she thinks, at least tonight James will be surrounded by friendship, if he can open up a little with her and Will the door will be open for Jack to wiggle in. He was very good at that after all, that was, of course, if Jack wanted to. Elizabeth knew from personal experience how quickly Jack shed that which no longer serves his purpose.

Elizabeth firms her conviction. She wouldn’t let Jack discard James, not without a fight.

Chapter Text

Authors note: set the night Jack goes to see James and they have the argument

Gibbs has never had cause to fear his captain despite beingJack’s moods bring as mercurial as the oceans but by and large Jack was a good man and a good captain.

But tonight.

Tonight there was a darkness in the pirate’s eyes that set Gibb’s stomach to roiling. Something deadly and black and full of anger leashed but pulling on that leash that was becoming threadbare.

Had Norrington died? Surely that was the only reason for Jack to be so moved. Gibbs had little love for the navy but he respected Norrington, the boy was simply doing his job, it was bad for them that he was so good at it but Gibbs was willing to overlook that fact for Jack. It also helped that Norrington was at least the enemy they knew. The next one the navy picked could be crueller and more vindictive, not at all the man of honour that Norrington was.

“The lad is he….” Gibbs began, dreading the answer as Jack stormed past, the dark wave of his anger almost visible behind him.

“He lives.” Jack snarls, “shame Hendricks didn’t beat some sense into our good commodore”

The relief that Gibbs feels surprises him. But it doesn’t explain Jack’s mood. Surely if Norrington lived Jack wouldn’t be fleeing like this.

“What-“

Before he can gather himself or the question Jack spins and pins Gibbs with eyes so dark they burn straight through him.

“We are leavin’” the captain barks, “take whatever it is you want from this place by daylight ‘cause we ain’t coming’ back!”

Jack has left on bad terms with Norrington before, he’s left with a warrant for his death and a date with the noose and all those times Jack has laughed and japed and made light. Tonight there is a heaviness in Jack, a sense of a door being shut and a finality that feels dangerous. If Gibbs were a different man he may have argued but he isn’t. He has known that this whole thing between the commodore and Jack would end up in heartbreak or death but this death by anger feels even worse.

Jack says not another word, slamming the door to his cabin closed with a finality that feels like a gunshot. Gibbs looks out at the sleepy, peaceful town of Port Royal, wonders if the Commodore is just as moved as his pirate lover, wonders if he too is up this night angry and wrathful.

Gibbs shakes his head. He’s not here to diagnose or to wonder. He’s here to be Jack’s right hand.

He lazily sketches a salute to the town and then goes to see to his duties.