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AT THE TURN OF THE TIDE Author: Ellie Disclaimer: It all belongs to Disney. Don’t go looking at me for the handsome pirates and Navy men – they own them. A depressing thought, really, because I want my own Captain and Commodore. *mourns* Summary: You are the sister of the elusive Captain Jack Sparrow. But it seems that although you are blood-related, you never quite possessed the elusiveness he did. And thus, fate catches you by surprise in the midst of pilfering the Isle de Muerta, and lands you in the brig of the Dauntless… and into an interesting conversation with Commodore James Norrington. A one-shot that could possibly develop into a short story. Dedication: A great big Happy Birthday to my loffly big-sister, Ebs! How can I ever get through life without you, my dear? *cuddles* Author's Note: Yes, yes, I know what you all are thinking. A You/Norrie fic? A little insane, I admit, but I do have a soft spot for the Commodore. The poor man really just needs a hug: he doesn’t save the day, he doesn’t get the girl. So I thought that we should just look at him in the spotlight he’s rarely seen in. A lot of stories that I’ve read make James (yes, he and I are on first name terms, the darling. Oh no, Jack, I haven’t abandoned you!) the bad guy, so to speak. He deserves a happy ending, too. And besides, I’m officially fangirling him now (along with Jack and Will, of course) – I doubt I’ll be the only one after he becomes Swashbuckling!Norrie in Pirates 2. * * * * * CHAPTER 1 – An Encounter of a Different Sorts He had caught you unaware, stepping from the shadows like that. You had snuck into the Isle de Muerta, the secret trove of the infamous Captain Sparrow, in the process of deciding whether jewels or gold would serve your purposes better; but he had to sneak up on you, blade loose in its scabbard as a silent challenge hung in the air. With unspoken consent, you both drew your blades and dueled; you knew he had come for you, and he knew you wouldn’t come quietly. With each parry, thrust, block, and lunge, coins and crowns rang as they scattered across the rough ground, yet you had paid no heed to them. So intent you both were on besting the other. For a moment, the scales seemed to shift when he caught you across the shoulder with the edge of his keen, Turner-wrought blade. But then you had easily retaliated by flicking your sword tip across his hand, causing his grip to slacken on the hilt. But the damn man had caught it by the tassel (the fancy, golden tassel – oh, how it annoyed you… how it swung to and fro) and shifted his grip, striking back smoothly. Back and forth went your dance. A step here, a twirl there; if it wasn’t a matter of life, death, or freedom, then it would have been quite a sight to behold. Even now, the dance still wore on, and you found yourself tiring. A dull ringing had begun in your ears, a mixture of exhaustion and yes, that shoulder wound was taking its toll on you. Then a hiss pierced the tense silence of the cave, followed by the boom of thunder. At first you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you, until your adversary paused as well, his head cocked as a frown crossed his features. You stopped, your eyes widening. “Cannon,” you whispered to yourself in realization. A shaft of moonlight pierced the gloom, falling on your opponent’s face. He looked back to you as you both listened. He began to swear. “I told him! I told him only in self-defense!” You sighed patiently. “I think your little officer’s a tad too ambitious for his own good, Commodore.” Norrington seethed, torn with indecision. “Let’s finish what was started.” You gave a little apologetic shrug, ignoring the dull sting in your shoulder. “I’d rather you left me here than finish it. You understand, I hope?” But Norrington was angry, probably at being cheated out of whatever it was that he saw himself as possibly achieving in this absurd fight with you. Life, death… at this point, it was all the same, but you still wanted to live (and escape), regardless. He had already silently berated himself for letting Sparrow go, and now here he was, dueling with the sister of the Captain of the Pearl, simply trying to capture her and perhaps get some information on where the pirate was. But he knew it was a tricky objective – after all, pirates may be dishonest, but even they knew the significance of blood, family, and betrayal. You had no desire whatsoever of being thrown in a cell or possibly hanged for your crimes against the Crown. You had finally acquired (or stolen, to state bluntly) the perfect sea vessel and that was worth more than anything else now. You had not waited years for nothing, to be cheated out of your freedom by a repressed soldier who couldn’t bother to examine the real cause of his own distress and driven compulsions. You had no intention of saying anything of your brother, if the event should happen you were pressed for information on him; nor did you have any wishes to be captured on his behalf. You glowered; if you ever got out of this alive, you were seriously going to give Jack a strict telling-off. Your thoughts, however, were cut abruptly short as Norrington advanced again, blade flashing. But you were so unprepared that you stumbled back, bringing your sword up clumsily in an attempt to block. To no avail. You tripped backwards over an uneven section of cave floor and squeezed your eyes shut as you landed painfully, trying not to jar your shoulder any more than you had to. Despair filled you as your blade was kicked away from your slack grip, and you tried, uselessly, to take it back. But it had clattered away, most probably by the water’s edge. Silence reigned supreme. The dry, deciding click of Norrington’s pistol being cocked made you open your eyes again, and you grimaced as he took aim. “Get up. Slowly,” he ordered, backing up a step as his piercing sapphire eyes flashed dangerously. You sighed and closed your eyes again. “Not to the death, then. To the gallows.” You opened your eyes and met Norrington’s gaze evenly. “I already told you, mate: I’m not going.” The far off sound of the cannons still shuddered and echoed like hollow drums throughout the cave. “Well, I can wait until you faint from the loss of blood and then simply row you back unconscious,” Norrington pointed out coolly. “Even so, it would be easier if you just get in the bloody boat.” “Considering me just now, it really is going to be a bloody boat,” you quipped in a weak attempt of dry humour. But you realized you really did need to stop the flow of your wound, and soon. You heaved a sigh. “Alright, alright.” You sat up, feeling how much the fight had already cost you, and the fact that blood was running down your arm now. Removing the bandanna from your dark hair, letting it tumble, unbound, over your shoulders, you managed to wrap it around your arm and shoulder tightly. You gave Norrington a frustrated glare, as if to say, ‘Gee, thanks a lot.’ “I can’t row like this,” you muttered instead. Norrington said knowingly, “Judging by the sound of the continuing exchange, I’m willing to bet your right arm will work well enough to get us back to your ship, and mine, to assess the situation.” Already, you were beginning to feel lightheaded. You wondered in truth if you’d even make it back to the two ships. It just didn’t seem fair, somehow, for it all to end like this. But the Commodore had a point. You were desperate to see how your ship had fared. You tried to get to your feet and found that you were more unsteady than you thought. Norrington held out a hand, and with a few blinks of surprise at it, you took it, pulled to your feet. Norrington gestured with the pistol. “Let’s get out of here. Bring your sword.” But at the moment, you were finding it hard to stand. It was far worse than rum had ever been, and you abruptly wondered if maybe you really shouldn’t have been standing too close to that damned Aztec chest. Maybe it had… affected you somehow. Weakened you, perhaps. Or some such. Curses lingered; maybe if you hadn’t strayed near the cursed thing for so long and just accompanied the last boat back to your beloved ship, you wouldn’t be climbing into this tiny boat with the one man who seemed to have the most incentive to see you (or your brother) die on the gallows. Because the laws said he was supposed to. Strangely, Norrington didn’t make you take up an oar, but simply grabbed both and began to row you back out, the lamp flickering disturbingly along the way. The cannon fire had ceased, and you wondered if it meant… No. You shoved the thought away. You couldn’t think of anything yet, and you refused to allow yourself to imagine the worst. The sky was darkening, as the sun had already dipped down, but even so, as the boat neared the spot where your ship had been sitting, you could see that she was gone. You sat up, craning your neck hopefully. You thought you could make out a receding shape across the water, but with the drifts of accursed mist that lay everywhere, shrouding the Isle, you couldn’t really tell for certain. And then you were nearing the hulk of the Dauntless. You sighed, closing your eyes, wondering if it had truly come back around, full-circle, only to end up with you losing the only thing that had ever mattered to you again. It seemed that both you and your brother had the tendency to run into some unfortunate bad luck regarding the law and your ships. If so, you weren’t sure you wanted to go on at all. And you looked up, to meet Norrington’s eyes. They were watching you with too sharp a crystal clarity and recognition. You looked away, finding yourself uncharacteristically gloomy and at a loss for words, for once. Thankfully, the Commodore didn’t say anything. Not to gloat, nor to offer sarcasm, or to remind you that if you hadn’t been bent on seizing the treasure hoarded here, and had instead just sailed away… indeed, you might still be free. Getting aboard the Dauntless was actual agony, and you were hard-pressed to understand if it was really due to your wound, or the after-effects of being too close to the damn Aztec treasure. Probably a combination of both. “Someone should get rid of it,” you grumbled to yourself. “Bloody nuisance, it is.” And suddenly, you found yourself swaying dangerously on the deck of the Naval ship, before it rushed to meet you without warning. Then everything went black. * * * * The guard outside Sparrow’s cell stood up swiftly and saluted the Commodore. “Sir.” James regarded the unmoving form of the pirate. “How is she?” “Hasn’t moved, Sir. She’s been asleep all this time. We thought the lass’ injury would bother ‘er, but then, the physician said she’s going to sleep for a long while. And so she ‘as.” You were lying on your back, your head and upper torso resting on a folded blanket, particularly where your injury was. But the sound of voices snapped you from your drifting state with an unpleasant jerk to consciousness, and you opened an eye at their words, regarding James with an inscrutable expression. “I wish to speak to the prisoner alone. I’ll let you know when I’m through,” the Commodore stated to the soldier, who nodded. “Aye, sir.” As the guard left, you brought yourself upright into a sitting position, leaning back against the wood of the hull with a wince at your shoulder. You leaned your head back in an eerie likeness to your brother and gazed at James with an almost offensive smirk. “Well, well, well,” you drawled lazily. “So you’ve decided to grace me with a visit after all. I thought maybe you’d forgotten I was down here.” Studying your dark eyes (again, so uncannily like Jack’s) and knowing leer with a renewed sense of wariness, James realized that this was no caged Sparrow before him, but a trapped cat; a large one, with considerable stamina, strength, and speed; sharp claws, and entirely untrustworthy, at that. He felt, in fact, as though he were facing an exotic animal, one that had already proven itself to be more than a threat: a danger. James inwardly sighed. What had he bargained for when he had chased after you…? “It passes understanding,” he observed, “why you would risk returning to the treasure when you knew that it might cost you everything you had already gained.” You gave him a curious frown. “That doesn’t explain why you’d bother putting me in here, yourself.” “You and your brother left me little choice.” “Ah,” you said softly to yourself. So this was about Jack. They had tracked you down for leverage, perhaps? Since when did the Navy sink so low? “So far, you’ve proven yourselves to be pains in the neck,” James informed you, smiling coolly. His hand went to the bandage around his hand where you had nicked him. The cut he’d sustained didn’t need to be stitched, but he wondered briefly how many stitches your shoulder had required. “Glad I could oblige,” you said, with as much inflection as James had awarded. That was to say, not much. But your gaze now spoke far more eloquently. James found himself growing discomfited under it. You looked almost accusingly at him, as though it were quite obvious to you why you’d been incarcerated once again, for the first time in several months. James found himself pushed to answer to even himself if he was merely suffering from a guilty conscience and projecting it on the pirate. Or whether you had any real idea of why you were here now, and not simply dead back there on the Isle. Unable to grasp why it should make any difference to him what you thought of his actions, and in an attempt to save his dignity and not be seen as gloating at having caught the pirate, James commented, “A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss. You have your life, after all. It would be well within my rights to simply have you executed here, aboard this ship. You are, after all, a convicted criminal and fugitive.” You stared back at him without much reaction. You brought up your knee and rested your hand upon it, saying with a casual flick of your fingers, “So why haven’t you? What are you waiting for?” Well, you knew very well why you hadn’t been killed. Although it was a far better fate than death, you didn’t quite fancy revealing the location of Captain Jack Sparrow to the Royal Navy. You may be a pirate, but you weren’t a traitor. Slowly, carefully, James replied, “Because I’m not of the opinion that you deserve to die, regardless of what the law states – which is quite clear where piracy is concerned.” You flashed him a feral grin. “To be sure, but that doesn’t quite explain your taking such an interest in my welfare, now does it?” James sighed. “How quickly you forget, Ms. Sparrow.” You twitched at the lack of Captain. “Ever since Mr. Sparrow – ” Again, you twitched in annoyance. “ – escaped, I made it my intent to find him again. Obviously, you being the only blood-relation my sources have discovered, you are the Navy’s best bet on recapturing the pirate. It was your decision to travel to that treasure of his; we intended on catching Sparrow, but then we caught you, instead. Interesting how fate makes us dance to her tune, isn’t it?” You remained silent. James continued, unnoticing. “If I were you, I’d stay away from that Isle in the future. It doesn’t seem to bring anyone much luck.” But a slight frown had begun to cross your features, as if in confusion. “It’s not your intention then, to see me to the gallows after this?” James looked down. He’d already decided that it was the last thing he intended, but he could hardly explain it to himself to any degree of satisfaction, let alone to you, the pirate. Placing his hands behind his back, he straightened, and met your gaze squarely. “No,” he answered. “Although what I will do with you remains to be seen. I can’t merely let you go.” “Ah, I see,” you said, nodding. After a thoughtful silence, you raised your brows at him. “Commuted to a life sentence, then?” Your hopeful tone almost caught you by surprise. Since when were you willing to lose your freedom like this? The Commodore began to feel even more uncomfortable. He wondered what about this whole scene was becoming more obvious, when he couldn’t ascertain what his own motives were anymore. “For now,” he replied curtly. “You had your ship, and your freedom. You could have traveled anywhere, yet you chose to go to the treasure.” His eyebrows drew together in a curious frown. “Why?” You looked at him, blinking in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding, mate! Did you not see it, lying there? All the gold? It’s a bloody fortune, a hundred times over!” “I doubt you had plans for retirement,” James replied sharply. Your grin possessed too much amusement under the circumstances. “There is that,” you agreed. “What would you have done, in my shoes?” You glanced down at your feet. “Boots, rather?” you corrected. “Or are you suggesting that the reason you went there yourself directly was to catch my brother and his ship? In which case, why’d you bother letting him go in the first place, hmm?” Your sly look accompanying the statement was almost a wink, and very distracting. James found he was flushing, in spite of himself. Not at what you had said, but how you had said it… with that expression… Why, indeed? He looked down again and replied awkwardly, “He didn’t deserve to die. I believe that.” You were watching him closely now. “I see. And being pirates, we can’t be allowed to go wandering around, helping ourselves to gold that’s doing no one any good sitting on an island no one else can find. So you’ve picked me out a nice, cozy cell back in your little fort, where you’ll keep me locked up until I am joined by my dear brother. And together, we shall waste away from boredom.” You quirked an eyebrow, shooting a look at the Commodore. “Is that it?” Your sarcasm helped the truth bite deeply. You knew it was harsh, maybe even a little cruel, but it was you trapped in the brig, not the Commodore. How would he feel if his precious title, wig, and tights were snatched away and he was tossed out to the streets? Because you were sure as hell going through the same torturous feeling now; hope seemed lost to you, now that you were behind bars. This time, with no discernable way out. Angrily, James retorted, “It is your decision to remain a pirate. You can hardly blame anyone but yourself for the consequences.” You laughed quietly. “It would seem that I am at your disposal, Commodore.” The knowing tone in which you delivered this did not help James’ fraying composure. Leaning forward to grasp the bars, he replied tightly, “Can you honestly suggest an alternative?” You suddenly noticed, in the dim light of the brig, the finely chiseled features that were the Commodore’s face. You had to admit, he was rather handsome, for a Naval officer. And the first thought that had popped into your head at his last question was: …I can suggest a lot of alternatives. Though I don’t think they’d hardly be considered proper… And, against all odds, you felt the warm glow of a blush gracing your cheeks. You hastily pushed the thought away, and fought to make your reply as cool as possible. “Do you honestly want me to?” you threw back at him, with an unexplainable little smile. “I would have thought,” James stated dryly, “that your sense of self-preservation would encourage you to at least try to offer a reasonable alternative to imprisonment or death, yes. Such as anything regarding Captain Sparrow…?” You blatantly ignored the last bit of his statement and studied your nails in an absentminded fashion. “You could always let me go.” James stood back and shook his head. “It’s no use, Ms. Sparrow – “ Once more, your eye twitched. “ – Unless you and your ship are gone from the Caribbean, along with the Black Pearl, it is still my responsibility to see you both brought in. There is only so far I can stretch the limitations of the law on a pirate’s behalf.” He added in an undertone, “Although why I should bother at this point is quite beyond me.” “An ultimatum then,” you sighed. “A deal. You let me go, and I take my ship and her current takings, and take myself away altogether, thus assuring there won’t be any more of these… unpleasant encounters with yourself and your Dauntless. I, of course, cannot speak for Jack. Who - at the moment, I might add - is not present at this little meeting of ours.” James resisted the urge to roll his eyes at you and said, “You’re a pirate.” “As you do so enjoy reminding me,” you muttered darkly. “Even if I agreed upon this with you, how could I take you at your word? Particularly considering your inability to resist the temptation of all that gold?” You frowned again. “And just what is that gold to you?” “I would have thought that would be patently obvious. It belongs to whomever it was stolen from in the first place. It’s my duty to see it returned to them.” You looked down briefly, your face carefully devoid of emotion. Then you lifted your eyes to meet James’ again. Unnerving, as always, your eyes. Why did you have to accent them so darkly with kohl, same as your brother? James resisted the urge to ask. Your darkly-smudged eyes had a different effect on the Commodore than Jack did (obviously). To see Jack, it was simply a feeling of disturbed confusion as to why a man would wear something like that. But a female… now that was a different story altogether. James shook away the thoughts in horror. How could he be thinking such things of a pirate?! “Is it now?” Your voice cut through his thoughts. “So why’d you let go of my ship? You could have made chase.” James gave you a humourless smile. “You know as well as I that there would be no contest.” You shot him a filthy look. “You have me aboard, mate. They would have stopped for parley.” “Parley…?” “Talk,” you groaned in exasperation. “You know; truce, negotiation. Honestly, do they teach you anything in that Soldier School of yours, aside from marching and twirling bayonets?” Shaking your head, you added, “Although, your idiotic little officer seemed to think that blasting my ship with your cannons was the most effective form of communication.” “Your ship fired first,” James retorted. “Hardly the point,” you shrugged, instantly regretting the action with a wince. With a fleeting glance to your shoulder, James murmured, “I think it is.” You looked away, not deigning to reply. “Our ships and our crews may not have been able to resist clashing, but then, you were the one who suggested our duel in the first place,” the Commodore continued calmly. “Rather a violent confrontation for someone claiming that there are better ways of negotiating.” You pursed your lips and glanced at him, lifting a finger in an almost lazy manner as you spoke slowly, as if thinking aloud. “Why’s it so important to you, anyway, whether my brother and I sail our ships in these parts or not? So long as we leave the English settlements alone, perhaps…?” “I do not, and cannot, condone piracy,” James stated dryly. “I will not.” “Seems to me,” you drawled, “that you're experiencing a little bit of a quandary, what with having to admit that I'm not as terrible as you might think, while claiming I deserve to rot in jail for the rest of me life for bein' a pirate. Can you not make up your mind?” This brought James back to himself with a jolt, realizing he was standing and discussing your future and the very real consequences of keeping you prisoner. And with you gazing at him piercingly, waiting for his response, James abruptly wondered at the wisdom of discussing anything with you. So far all he'd gained was an understanding that he still lacked any momentum on what to do with you, and that he had no idea how to proceed, seeing as he couldn't even trust you (or your brother, for that matter) to leave the Caribbean at all, should he let you loose. Meeting your eye, James knew in this moment that it was partly a fascination with you (but as to what fascination with, he knew not), not just the satisfaction and triumph in having caught you, but in keeping you there. In this very cell. A prize. The thought sickened him. He could nearly feel the accusation in your gaze and he finally had to look away. Your eyes narrowed and you gingerly climbed to your feet, favoring your shoulder. Moving closer to the front of the cell, you leant against the bars, ignoring the step backwards that James took. “Tell me something, Commodore,” you began. You tilted his head, regarding him askance. “If I gave you my word that I'd quit these waters and never return; take my ship and never again trespass in the New World, would you accept it? I may not get my brother to be as reasonable as I am right now, but would you accept my offer, at the least?” Helplessly, and feeling more than a little placed on the spot, James replied with a shake of his head, “I can't. Even a gentleman's agreement…you're a pirate. I cannot trust your word.” With a raise of your brows, you commented, “Hardly a gentleman’s agreement, seeing as I am not a man in any shape or form. At least, I should hope so.” You looked down for a moment, as if checking yourself to make certain you were, indeed, female. Nodding in apparent satisfaction, you looked back up. James pointedly tried to ignore your actions altogether. You noticed, however, and found the pink tinge on his cheeks mildly amusing before continuing, “But I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.” You sighed and added, “Even if we put it in writing? You'd still refuse an accord with me?” James pressed his lips together. “I cannot, Ms. Sparrow –” Enough was enough. “Captain, if you please, Commodore.” James sighed. “So very much like your brother…” “I can’t see the hell why not.” “You know very well why not.” You blinked. “Why I can’t be like Jack?” The Commodore held back the urge to smack his forehead in frustration. “Why I can’t accept an accord with you.” You nodded, a slight “ah” expression lighting up your features. “I see. So you don't believe me to be a good person, then?” James straightened. “Only so far as you don't deserve to die. But you are still a pirate.” You grinned at him. “Let me see if I understand you correctly, mate; you're confusing me with all this. You won't take me at my word, because I'm a pirate and cannot therefore be trusted, yet you also say I’m someone who doesn't deserve to die for being a pirate. Pirate though I am… And all the while, if I were to say I'd give up bein' a pirate, you wouldn't be able to believe me, because my word is not to be trusted?” James smiled for the first time during the conversation with you and gave a silent chuff of laughter, looking down. “Yes, I see your point.” You tilted your head slightly. So the man was capable of lightening up… that was good to know. For a moment there, you had thought he was the type of serious, cynical man who took his job and powdered wig all too seriously. He really should smile more, you thought absently. You were both silent for a few moments, and then you suggested cheerfully, “It's quite simple then, really. They don't have to be mutually exclusive of each other. All you have to do is admit that you believe me, a pirate, to also be a good lass and therefore to be trusted as far as holding to a “gentleman's” agreement. Doesn't have to extend any further than that, really. Just enough to allow your guilty conscience enough respite until I can sail my ship out of your jurisdiction. Maybe convince the Pearl to do the same, though I doubt it very much. What do you say to that?” “I would say yes, except that there's one problem,” James replied, looking down at you, realizing it for the final time. And beyond any doubt now, as well. “I cannot afford to let you go.” You frowned. What was that odd tone in his voice? Taking your frown for a look of non-understanding, James continued, “You see, Ms. Sparrow (you resisted the urge to growl at him), I've decided that you're my responsibility, and if I let you go and you do not hold to our agreement, I will be the one held accountable. I've already taken a dire chance on you, when I suspected you would sail to this Isle and issued the command to lie here in wait.” Sharply, you said, “And whoever decided you had no choice but to follow me here, hmm?” “Granted,” James nodded, “although you were also well-aware I'd have no choice but to follow my reasoning, seeing as I'm duty-bound to see to it that the law is upheld. We both knew your brother would return there, to seize treasure that does not belong to him. Of course, being his sister, I’m not really surprised that you did the same. But I would be twice the fool if I let you go, leaving you free to seek another shipload and make off with it, leaving me to be the laughing-stock of my peers. I already have enough to answer for, not to mention the personal losses I've suffered of late,” James added, bitterly. You stared at him with an expression of growing understanding. Slowly, and with a note of near incredulity, you asked, “You… you want to keep me prisoner?!” To hear it so baldly uttered from you yourself, and aloud, caused a swift jolt of guilt to stab at James. He wondered if he'd compromised himself somehow. It had been a very bad idea in the end, coming down here to talk to you. And as he swallowed, for once not really having any able answer to that one, you gave him a considering look, your eyes roving down James's form, and then back up to meet his gaze again. “So you can let me go, but you won't. Sounds like you're making it personal, Commodore.” Your eyes were now as unrelenting as his words. This had been such a very unwise decision, James decided. He never should have come down here in the first place. Firmly, he ignored the heat that rose to his face and replied, “Neither can I let you die.” “Actually, you could,” you snapped. “But you won't. You don't want to. Why?” As James stared back at you, completely unable to answer, because he really didn't know, you waved a hand in irritation. “I mean, why not? Why keep me alive: to soothe some part of your guilt at secretly wanting to see the Sparrows dead? Is that it?” James let out a breath. “For God's sake, woman, I don't want to see you dead! Why do you keep insisting that I do? I've said repeatedly that I do not!” “And why is that; because I'm 'a good person'?” You smiled at him, a little more blithely than your situation would appear to warrant, particularly given James's temper was close to breaking at this point. James was angry, but whether he was angrier at you than at himself, he didn't know. Stiffly, James answered, “Yes, damn it. Because you both are, as regrettable as it may seem, reasonably good people. I told you, you don't deserve to die for that.” You looked him up and down again, the very nerve of it forcing James to clench his teeth in annoyance. “Apparently I don't deserve to be free either.” “Indeed,” James nodded tightly. “And yet,” you said, lifting a finger, “you won't tell me why you care one way or the other.” “I do have a sense of what is right; perhaps more than you do, Ms. Sparrow,” James retorted. “Ah yes,” you agreed. “Your fine and high morals. Which appear to include the belief that you have every right to want to keep me imprisoned? Well,” you said as your tone dropped to a cooler attitude, looking down, holding the bars, “I do hope you'll come down to visit occasionally. It's likely to be a very tedious and lonely time of it for me, I expect.” James didn't bother to attempt to respond to that. It was too obvious a ploy to act as though he was being unnecessarily cruel, when you were both well aware that you were lucky enough just to be alive even now. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, heading for the stairway and back to his cabin. “Commodore,” you called out softly. “It seems to me that this conversation abandoned the subject of my brother long ago… didn’t it?” You leant forward, resting your forehead against the cool bars, favoring your injured shoulder with a grimace. “What is it you want, truly?” “That,” James shot over his shoulder, “is a discussion best left at a later date. Good night, Captain Sparrow.” And with that, he disappeared up the steps. THE END * * * * * |