Disclaimer: Don't own them, the phallic castle does.

A/N: The last installment in the Amor del un Hermano universe. Enjoy!

Commodore James Norrington stood at the helm of his ship, watching as the bow of the other boat drew closer and closer. He knew what the other ship was, and he knew what it's purpose was. The other captain could never leave well enough alone, and both of them knew it. He called the orders to his ship, readying them for what would be the ensuing battle, drawing his own ssword, not the one he received at his promotion to commodore, even though that was a fine blade, but the one that he had for the past twenty years that had never let him down.

The other ship came within range of their cannons and he had his crew fire a warning shot dangerously close to the front of their ship. They fired back as they sailed ever closer. Before either captain knew it, the two great, legendary ships were engaged in an epic battle. The HMS Dauntless, pride of the royal navy against the only pirate ship that could offer any sort of a challenge, the legendary Black Pearl. The Pearl was perhaps the only ship that could offer any sort of a threat to Dauntless, and Norrington knew it.

He heard the order from the small, lithe man on the other boat that his pirate crew should board. Norrington steadied himself for the upcoming onslaught, along with the rest of his crew. It wasn't long until he was face to face with the legendary captain that moved with feline grace. They both drew their swords as the respective crews of each ship backed off from their duels to observe the most major one, the first mates of each ship backing their captains as seconds.

"well there mate, nice to see ya again."

"Mr. Sparrow." Norrington was edgy, and rightfully so.

"Ah, my dear Commodore. We meet again." Their swords met and the metallic clang echoed in the ominous grey sky.

"So we do." They met and parried each other's blows with skill, skill that both of them earned from years of skill.

"You use the same moves I taught you. Some things never change." Norrington drove in fiercely after that. The fighting reached a new, more dangerous level. Neither Norrington nor Sparrow would give in, both of them fought with extreme skill, and extreme force.

It wasn't until Sparrow had knocked Norrington to the ground that either one of the gave in. Norrington hit the deck fiercely, squarely on his back, sword still held above him, blocking any blows that the Pirate would try to inflict, but he was unable to get up without exposing himself. Sparrow wheeled around to avoid Norrington's feeble attempt to jab him from the deck, to find himself being sliced open by the Dauntless' first mate, and the Commodore's most trusted friend Gillette.

Norrington got up shakily, as the pirate stumbled to the rail of the ship. He was torn, between the knowledge that the man that had just almost killed him, that could have just killed him, now stood bleeding on his ship, because of him, because he chose to engage the man in a fight. But this man was also a pirate, a criminal, someone who he had already let slide twice previously, who he had almost seen killed, who had to turn away when the gallows dropped, and if it hadn't been for Turner, would have saved the legendary pirate himself.

"Send for the doctor, and bring this man down to the cabin." Norrington sheathed his sword, and walked towards the door to below decks rather shakily. The pirate crew watched as their fearless leader was led down before the Commodore, protesting quite feebly that he was fine. The Navy eyed the pirates warily, before the first mate, a woman no less, stepped forward.

"Commodore Norrington." She was loud, and bold, and drew his attention easily.

"Yes?"

"We will leave our captain in your hands, good luck, you're going to need it." The pirate crew laughed raucously at this, and the navy tittered slightly. With those parting words, the pirates retreated to their ship, but made no sign of moving their ship. They stayed next to the Dauntless, keeping a close eye on the royal ship, breathing down the officer's necks without doing a single thing.

Norrington paced through his cabin as the doctor set to work on the long gaping gash that split him from side to shoulder. He was the little boy from the little coastal town in the north of England again. He was the little boy who looked up to and revered his older brother. He removed the old torn and tattered hat and the trademark red bandana he had gotten from his brother, and found his chest curiously, painfully tight. The last time he felt this was the time he thought his brother to be dead.

He found the doctor emerging from the quarters next to him, and asked as nonchalantly as possible how the Pirate was, and the doctor only looked grim. Norrington walked into the cabin, lacking his powdered wig and bright red coat, wearing only his breeches and shirt. He was no longer Commodore James Andrew Norrington, great pirate hunter of the Caribbean, but rather James, the lost little boy who wanted nothing more than to be respected in his brother's eyes.

He didn't know what he'd find in the cabin, and he was afraid of what he'd find. He was afraid of finding the other man almost dead, he was afraid of loosing another person he was close to. He was afraid of loosing the man that he had looked up to the most, the man who taught him everything he knew. This was his protector, his guide, his mentor. This was the man that he had saved from death at his own expense so many times before, he didn't want to see him die at his hands. He didn't want to see his brother dead on his ship, because of him.