James Norrington stood in his brand new living quarters of Port Royal, admiring the view of the ocean; waves rose and crashed onto the sandy beaches. Soon a storm would arrive, as the sky revealed, with its dark menacing clouds. Norrington walked away from the window and sat at his new desk. The smell of oak and new furniture filled his head. It had only been two days earlier that he had brought the heart to Lord Beckett and received full pardon for his crimes. Not only that, but James had gotten his title back as Commodore; there was even a ship in the deal. He should have been happy, but he wasn't. All he could think about was Elizabeth. James had recalled telling her that he didn't feel for her anymore, but that was an all out lie. He yearned for her. Every thought or dream he had was for her, but his pride got in the way of his feelings. There was no way he could go back to her now, even if on the slightest chances that she would take him back. James sighed deeply and looked over the paperwork on his desk. His green eyes trailing over utter nonsense and eccentric proposals. Maybe this would get his mind off of such savory things, but he knew in the back of his head that it wouldn't. Nothing could.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rapping on his door. The newly appointed Commodore frowned and stood once again. He placed his hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward.

"Enter."

The word was sharp and unenthused. A younger man wearing a navy outfit entered the room and saluted the Commodore. His dark tresses fell over his face.

"What is it?"

Norrington wasn't in much of a mood to entertain, better cut to the point. James straightened his posture and placed his hands behind his back.

"Sir, Lord Cutler Beckett requests your immediate presence in the drawing room."

They stared at each other for a moment. Had Cutler found out? The secret that Norrington held from the Lord might just send him to the gallows. James's face showed a fleeting glimpse of fear before he purged it from his facial features. Norrington wanted his reputation to be looked upon as being valiant and keen, even if he wasn't so at most times. The image of running scared through the woods with Davy Jones's crew after him came to mind. He would have fought them, if he thought it would do any good at all. In the end he managed to get away… with the heart.

"Right. On your leave."

James's voice never wavered, he hid his fear well. The young lieutenant clicked his heels and left. How funny that seemed to James. He closed his eyes in expiration and rubbed his temples. The new crew and inferior officers were some things he had to get used to. The others he grew to know and even love as family had passed on in the hurricane. The hunt for Jack Sparrow was drawing to a close and everyone thought it was over. There was cheering, he remembered, and call to arms. He himself was even giddy at the thought of finally capturing the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow. They were so caught up in the antics that almost no one realized that the winds had violently changed.

"Commodore! We have to stop pursuit and raise sails!"

The too proud Commodore ignored this man. There was no way a storm could get in the way of him and detaining Sparrow.

"Steady on!"

The look in James's eye was one of pure madness, although the rest of his face came over as calm and collected. The Black Pearl who was just meters ahead, had raised sail and weren't about to maneuver this storm. He had him. James Norrington would finally have his prize, and return to Port Royal a hero, stripped of all gross accusations.

"We have her now!"

He referred to the Black Pearl. What happened next could have been prevented by simply dropping the chase for a few hours while the storm ran its course. The winds caught the three massive sails of the ship and started to overturn it. The main mast broke in two and smashed into the main deck, killing dozens of sailors in its wake. Just like that it was over. While the ship's hull faced the sky, Norrington had his own troubles being caught under the slowly sinking ship. He opened his eyes under water and saw the bodies.

Norrington's eyes snapped open. All of them, but himself, perished, how dismal. The incident landed him in Tortuga and made him go a bit mad. He hated thinking about it; there were better things to think about, like Elizabeth, worn and weathered at sea. He had to stop thinking about her! James cleared the last of those invigorating thoughts with a shake of his head.

It is my fault. I accept that, but there are ways to make it right…

His mind wandered to the whereabouts of Davy Jones's heart. It was safe in a chest buried among others in the main bedroom of his grand new home. Norrington sighed nervously as he walked towards the drawing room his boots clicked methodically on the marble floor. The heart he turned over to Beckett? Nothing more than that of a rotting horse.

Does he know?

James Norrington turned on a heel and stood before the doors to the Drawing Room. Fate was about to be decided with a hesitant knock.