The Commodore's Redemption

By Sleepy Lotus

My freedom, James Norrington, is not a commodity. I resent that you chose to treat it as such. You will not be forgiven... In a battle of wills, James finds he may have bitten off far more than he can chew. James/Eliz/slight Jack

A/N: You may recognize bits of this, particularly in the first chapter, from my other fic All's Fair in Love and Piracy. I'm going off the same idea, but taking this fic in a direction that's not a dead end. Hope you enjoy. :)

Part I: Breaking Point

My freedom, James Norrington, is not a commodity.

I resent that you chose to treat it as such.

You will not be forgiven.

I suspect you already know this. You glance at me from across the dinner table, green eyes guarded. But I can tell you're nervous. I've always had that effect on you.

We eat alone, my father trusting you enough to not even require a chaperone. You are Port Royal's finest, after all. Commodore. A trusted friend and upstanding citizen. You would never take advantage of me...but you already have. What would my father think, could he know the way you behaved earlier this week?

After being at sea, taking meals with pirates, I feel strangely out of place in the finely furnished dining room. To be quite honest, my dear Norrington, I feel strangely out of place on land. My feet feel a certain resentment towards the soil; it failed to sway freely with the waves, as the deck of a ship.

At your behest, a lush feast lay out before us, a celebration for two. Though what exactly we celebrated perhaps lay in the eye of the beholder. You, my dear James, certainly thought we dined to commemorate our impending nuptials. And I?

I toasted to your impending undoing.

You seemed miles away, heading our feast at the far end of the table. Even from so far away, I could see you suffered from a bout of uneasy nerves. Perhaps it meant very little on the grand scale of things, but I could not suppress a surge of triumph, curling contentedly warm in my gut. Miss Elizabeth Swann, causing the great Commodore's insides to twitch with her mere presence.

Perhaps I suffered from delusions of grandeur, but one must pass the time with something at these awful things.

We ate in silence, exchanging polite smiles across the void. My thoughts traveled to a man unable to eat so freely, a man who had saved my life. A man destined for the gallows tomorrow at noon. A pair of dark kohl-lined eyes that seemed as though they could bore through me, straight to my soul, danced in my mind. Peas in a pod, love. Was it so? Could a lady of Port Royal's high society rub elbows so easily with a pirate?

I could.

I did.

I reveled in the experience, as I craved for the freedom once again.

My adventure on the sea left me scarred, not quite the same, a changed woman. Now I find myself craving many unladylike things. The sea breeze whipping through my hair, the handles of the helm worn smooth from years of loving use under my palms, a boy's costume allowing the free movement of my legs and the weight of a sabre at my hip.

I dream of a deserted island all my own, a bonfire, a bottle of rum, and a pirate captain to share it with. Thinking of that little island lost amidst the clear blue waters unleashed a sensory memory upon me, so strong that my fork fell to my plate with an unrefined clatter. I hated it, that the thought of his calloused hands on my body could evoke such a reaction. Could leave behind such an ache in my bones, such a demanding desire.

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" you asked me, tone curious, but eyes hooded with a darkness that smacked of suspicion.

"Quite alright," I assured you, society smile plastered in place. "My hand just slipped, is all."

Something lingered in your expression, James, and I knew you did not quite believe my lie. Though always the military man, before you also always acted something of the fool, mastering the mask of good natured oblivion. Only in the past few days did I glimpse a different side of you, punctuated by a certain predatory alertness. Perhaps it was a quality you never displayed when ashore, in times of peace and quiet, the only times I'd ever shared your company before.

Of course it would take a certain viciousness to survive at sea, to command a fleet of ships, leading a flock of men who would pounce at the first sign of weakness. Jack flaunted this attribute unabashedly; but you, dear James, took me a bit more by surprise. It would not be the first time this week.

We must go after Will, I'd insisted, not but days ago. He'll die if we don't. I'd fought the urge to scream at you, for I could see the thoughts of leaving an innocent boy behind to die at the hands of Barbossa's pirates circling behind your eyes. What did a blacksmith matter? An orphan. Your rival, or so you thought.

We'd retreated to the side of the ship for a quiet exchange, not wanting to engage in a loud row in front of the crew. I was finally beginning to understand just how important it was for a ship captain to keep face.

You turned those green eyes to me, calculating, sizing me up in a way. I will go back for the boy, if I may make it a wedding present to you, Miss Swann. I'd pressed my lips together, considering your offer amidst the urgency to return for Will running wild in my mind. How dare you, I'd thought to myself. It was trading one life for another, in a way. Marrying you wouldn't kill me immediately, James, but I feared it would be a stifling match. Amidst the fear coursing through my veins, I gripped the rail. Very well.

Two words sealed my fate. You turned your proposal into a bargain, perhaps the most ungentlemanly act I'd ever witnessed you commit. Under the wig and all that military pomp and glory, you proved that day that you too are only a man.

Now I study you across the table, the way you sit with perfect posture, neatly consuming your meal. For as long as I'd known you, you always lived life exactly by the book. You embodied the perfect straight laced military man, nearly a machine in your actions and deportment. I began to wonder if there was anything left of a man who didn't live for rules, who still remembered answering only to himself. Had such a man ever existed, beneath that snow white wig? I found myself wanting to find out.

As this curiosity set in, a knavish plan began to weave into my thoughts. What would you do, Commodore, were your fiancee to unsettle your center of gravity? Push your limits, remind you of freedom?

It could very well be the ticket to my own, I realized, and maybe even Jack's.

Oh James, I thought to myself. I hope I don't break you.