A/N: A few notes on this particular sentinel/guide 'verse.
First is that sentinels can have any number of senses increased, some will only have one, others can have all five.
Next is that unlike in actual sentinel canon, guides are particular people. Most are the other half to a sentinel and so the pairing work best when with the other (as in one guide to one sentinel, which is a true guide) but if a sentinel has no bond with a guide, then they can work any. A sentinel can also work with any guide if they have a complete bond with another guide. However, if the pairing have an incomplete bond, then they aren't settled enough to work with any other.
Then all guides and sentinels have a spirit guide, and the ability to walk in the spirit world with some awareness.
Also, as sentinels have their abilities (ranging from one up to all five increased senses), so too do guides have their own abilities. In this 'verse, I've written it so that these are a range of abilities that centre around the ability to manipulate the minds and emotions of others, but these vary from one guide to another.
And, sentinels and guides (those who can form a true bonding) are soul bonded, where the theory is that upon the creation of the younger, the soul of the older person is split into two and the other half goes and resides in their partner. It doesn't diminish the other person in any way, but it links the two together in a way that they cannot imitate with another person.
Hiera Picra is made from canella bark and aloes, it's a drug that was used to remove ill humours. It was used for most illnesses.
Finally, from around the 16th century until better treatments were available, wounds that needed dressing, particularly gunshot wounds were dressed with a mixture of oil of roses, egg yolk and turpentine.
If you want the smuttier version of this story, it's on AO3, under the same username and title.
I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, nor do I make any money from this.
At six years old, James Norrington was easily the youngest person aboard the HMS Gauntlet. He was holding tightly to the railings at the aft of the ship, trying not to think about how deep the water was; he couldn't swim for very well. He wondered if the water was cold, like in the seas around England, or warm, as in the stories he had heard of distant lands. His father, Admiral Lawrence Norrington, was in the main cabin below, working on a course through the reefs with O'Donnell. James had been left to himself again, so he had come up to watch the men climbing their way up the rigging. The boy wished he could join them, he did love heights after all, but he was afraid of being blown overboard by the wind that was pushing the ship along.
Hands trembling as the ship cut through the waves, he looked out to sea; how far was it to land? Yesterday, James had been sure he had heard voices in the distance, but his father had informed him they were too far out to hear any towns, and the only ships about were the pirates they were hunting. James had commented at how exciting a pirate's life must be, to sail where you like and not have to follow rules, but he had been overheard by his father; the result was his inclusion on this trip to capture the Misty Lady.
He would never admit it out loud, but he was frightened. Every morning and every evening, he prayed desperately to God that he would come out safe from this encounter. His father had told him so many stories of how cruel and evil pirates were, so James rather hoped that these ones managed to keep hiding.
"Sail ho!" Came a cry from above, and James turned towards the sound of another ship, taking a moment to spot her. She was far off to their right… or starboard? Was it? He frowned, ducking down to hide the ship from view while he tried to think about what his father had told him. He was to join the navy, one day. He had to know all the terms.
He heard as the Admiral came up on deck, listening to the footsteps of men as they scurried about, but he remained crouched on the deck until the Admiral called for him.
"James? Come here, boy. You should see this."
Moving slowly, under the pretence that he couldn't quite get his feet under him on the moving ship, James went to stand beside his father. For once, he didn't laugh as his father picked him up and placed him on his shoulders; James didn't want to watch a fight. They had turned towards her and were catching the other ship up. The boy thought he could hear the shouting from the pirates as they spotted the Gauntlet gaining on them.
He peeked out from underneath the Admiral's hat that his father had reached up to put on his head, fingers laced into the man's thinning hair.
"Will they fight?" he whispered, even as he could see the other ship preparing to do battle, hear the captain shouting out orders.
"They can try, my boy. Loathsome creatures that they are." A warm hand pressed against his leg. "Come, shall we take the helm?"
They drew closer to the Misty Lady, and James tried to calm his shaking, terrified his father would notice.
"People are going to be hurt." He said, unable to hold his voice steady.
"Don't you worry, lad. All I need them to do is their job."
"Am I staying here for it?"
"Of course. I want you to see how bloodthirsty pirates are. No more fanciful notions of piracy being something other than a monstrous profession."
"Do we have a cat aboard?"
"Of course we do. My men don't have time to catch rodents… not the literal kind, anyway." The Admiral chortled at his own joke, but James wriggled about until he was on the deck.
The ship's cat (named Harold by James, as no one would tell him the cat's actual name) was black with white feet and a white belly. The cat he had seen was a reddish-brown, with a bushy white tail. Heading down into the belly of the ship, James ignored the sound of cannon fire. He focussed all his attention on the cat he had seen. Sometimes, he saw the tip of its tail, other times he followed his instinct, but James stayed below.
It was in the galley that he caught up with the animal, but it wasn't a cat; it was a fox. He had seen paintings of them before, but this one was lovely. James stepped forward, one hand stretched out.
"Why are you here?" he wondered, softly. "Were you running away from something? A ship is a good hiding place in port, but not once you've gone out to sea."
The fox lay down, its intelligent eyes watching the child as he crept closer.
"Rufus, I think. You look like a Rufus. Will you be my friend?" He reached out a hand to pet the animal, but cries of 'Huzzah!' distracted him, and when James turned back, Rufus had gone.
The next day, James had to stand by the helm for the first watch. He hoped that no one had heard how much trouble he had gotten into for disappearing, but seeing how much blood was still on the deck when his father led him up the next day made the boy glad he had followed Rufus.
"There's a ship behind us." He informed Thomason, as he turned to face the other direction. It was far away, and he couldn't see any flags yet, but it seemed to be heading for them.
"Admiral Norrington said you aren't to talk." Thomason informed him, before turning to glance behind them. "And nothing is there."
"Yes there is." He replied, defiantly. "It's over there."
"Where, laddie?" A young sailor with kind eyes asked, crouching down beside him.
"Over there. They are catching up."
"Those are good eyes you have." The man replied, squinting in the direction James had indicated.
"Leave him alone, Gibbs. He's being punished for abandoning his post during battle." Thomason snapped.
"Abandoning his… he's barely more than a babe." Grumbled Gibbs as he stood up, but he grasped James' shoulder gently before he headed off below deck.
James was right about the ship though; when cry of 'Sail ho!' could be heard, the pirates they had captured burst on deck, having escaped the brig. He gasped, and ducked down, clinging to the railings as he peeked through them. He whimpered in relief as the admiral came charging out, sword in hand and a fierce cry on his lips.
"Move, boy." Yelled Gibbs, as fighting men danced nearby. Thomason wore a frightening scowl as he sliced down those who approached him; but it was only when James felt the wet splatter of blood on his face that he ran down the steps, eyes tracking the movements of everyone around him. A glance to his right made him stop just before a cannonball tore past him; the other ship had caught up. James backed away, ducking down by the stairs as he stared with wide eyes at the fresh batch of pirates that were joining the fight.
"James?" his father's voice called out, and James grinned. He looked out to see his father fighting a tall man in a red frockcoat, their swords clashing in a painful symphony. "Go below deck! Out of the way!"
James frowned slightly, confused. His father had told him off for hiding last time, when he hadn't even been hiding; why was he now to go elsewhere? But the glimpse of a foxtail convinced him. He carefully shuffled out from his spot and began to tread carefully through the battling crowd, eyes scanning those around him so he could avoid injuries.
However, the pirate his father was battling let out a fierce roar in response to something his father had said and went on the attack. Petrified, James froze as he watched his father become more sluggish in his parries. He couldn't make himself move, even as the pirate forced their fight closer and closer to the boy. He stared in horror as blood soaked his father's coat from the slices that were made.
And then, the pirate struck his father's sword out of his hand, raising his own blade in preparation to take his father's life.
"No!" screamed James, backing away in fright; but there were no railings behind him, cannon fire having blown it away, and he fell.
The boy didn't notice the temperature of the water. Instead, he felt a crushing weight as his breath was knocked out of him, and he flailed, trying to reach the surface. Under the water, James could see far more than he could have expected: Scores of fish, dolphins, sharks… he looked down and spotted a ship beneath them. It had no sails, and there was something covering the surface, but it was definitely a ship. His limbs stilled as he watched it, staring through the murky water at the fish that were darting into the main cabin.
He was still staring, almost catatonic, as a man jumped into the water beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He was still staring as they were hauled up onto deck, though he was no longer seeing anything.
He didn't hear as pirate captain spluttered beside him, calling out in a hoarse voice; nor did he see his father, lying unconscious on the floor nearby.
"Why isn't he moving, Dad? Is he dead?" It was a young man's voice that cut through the fog in his mind, and James blinked as the dark haired captain looked up at his teenage son.
"Apparently not." The man straightened up, as James' vision blackened. The man spoke again, but the boy didn't hear.
The last thing he saw before passing out was the pirate captain winking at someone.
It was some time later before James' father had recovered enough to see him, and James obeyed the summons. He had been debating what to say to his father, when he got the chance to speak. He could see better than ever before, hear more than he had been able to; he was experiencing the world in a new way, and was trembling with excitement for the chance to tell his father.
But the conversation did not go as expected.
Admiral Lawrence Norrington was not impressed with his son's inability to control himself, and to hear the boy had been rescued by the pirate that had cut him down was added insult. The final words that he spoke on their journey back to port rang in his ears, echoing the shame that they invoked throughout James' body.
"Your death would have been preferable. I now owe Edward Teague a debt."
James spent the return journey in silence, hoping his father wouldn't notice him. He shut his eyes and pressed small hands over his ears, trying to block out his strengthened senses. By the time they reached port, he could convince himself that he could only see as far as the tree, and he couldn't hear the people chattering in the square, that he couldn't smell the bread from the bakery, and that the world was as it had always been.
Instead, he vowed to focus on working hard. He would join the Royal Navy and make his father proud of him.
James' next encounter with pirates was a decade later, as a midshipman, and though the Royal Navy captured the men, the young man wondered at the bloodlust he saw in both sides.
Five years later, and Lieutenant James Norrington encountered the aftermath of a pirate attack. They were travelling to Port Royal, ferrying the new Governor and his daughter across from England when the girl spotted a boy in the water.
Hurrying to peer out, he saw a ship sailing away, it's tattered black sails somehow managing to fill with enough wind to move the vessel.
"Captain!" he strode smartly across the deck. "Sir, the pirate vessel; we need to give chase."
"I see no ship." The man replied, eyes scanning their surroundings as he searched for it.
"It's there, disappearing into the fog."
"There only ship I see other than our own is the one burning over there. At any rate, we can't go chasing pirates with the governor aboard."
"No sir." He replied, but his eyes were not looking at his captain.
"Come on, lad. You'll get your chance to fight pirates." The man clapped him on the shoulder and headed up to the helm.
James Norrington headed over to where Elizabeth Swann was keeping watch over the boy she had found.
"Has he said anything?"
"His name's William Turner. That's all I've found out." She answered, but her eyes were glazed over and her hand was resting on the boy's arm.
"Are you well, Miss Swann?" he asked, frowning at her pale face.
"I can feel… everything…" she whispered faintly, before her eyes rolled back into her head. James caught her before she hit the deck, yelling out as she went.
"Elizabeth!" the panicked cry of the newly widowed governor permeated the air as he fell to his knees beside his daughter and the lieutenant. "Elizabeth. What happened?"
"I… have a suspicion." He murmured, thinking of Theodore Groves, and his guide abilities. Not that he would ever mention the man by name in the same sentence as what guides do; unbonded sentinels and unbonded guides were not allowed to serve in the Navy, and in the few cases when they had done so, the punishment had been death.
"Please." The governor grasped his arm, nervous eyes darting between James' face and Elizabeth's.
"Not here." He said softly, before picking the child up and carrying her back to the governor's cabin.
"Lieutenant? Please…"
"Sir… How much do you know of guides and sentinels?" James considered the governor an honourable man. Once they were out in the Caribbean, perhaps he would not feel a need to report anything James said; though he would keep silent on names.
It was just over two years later when James was promoted to Captain and given command of the HMS Equity. She wasn't a large ship, but her crew was valorous and they trusted in both their captain and his mission: to rid the world of pirates. Admiral Lawrence Norrington had been grievously injured in battle by Malcolm Archer, a pirate captain who was supposedly as sadistic and cruel as any demon. Not that the admiral had gone down without a fight, he had taken out not only a large number of the man's crew, but the captain's eye as well.
The admiral had chosen to pass on his personal goal to his youngest son, take as many pirates down as possible. While James lacked his father's bloodthirsty fervour, he obediently took his ship and, with the blessing of the Royal Navy, started his task as a pirate hunter.
It was less than a year later when he and his crew were captured in a sea battle by the very pirate responsible to his father's false leg: Malcolm Archer. However foolish it made him feel, James had failed to lie about who he was when asked to introduce himself to the man, and the remaining eye in Archer's heavily scarred face narrowed as he heard the naval captain's name.
"Well now, Captain Norrington, I'll give ye a choice. Which d'ye love more? Yer ship or yer crew?" The question was accompanied by a nasty smile that made James shiver, despite the warm Caribbean sun.
"What is it you're asking me?" He asked, wondering which answer would keep himself and his crew alive.
"As I said, boy, ye have a choice. Yer going to ma brig either way, but do I leave yer ship intact, or do I let that pretty crew bunk down in the brig also?"
"My crew." He replied without hesitation. "Don't kill them."
The variety of weapons pointed at his crew didn't falter with his words, but at Archer's nod, one crewman signalled to someone aboard the Equity. James stared wide-eyed as what felt like only moments later, the gunpowder aboard his beautiful ship was lit and, combined no doubt with the alcohol to cause a large explosion. He could quite suppress the whimper as he watched her beaten.
"Johnson, show these men the brig, if ye please." He smirked as they were marched off, James' legs weak as the rush of the battle left him and he acknowledged their status as prisoners.
"Is anyone badly injured?" He asked, as soon as they were alone (except one pirate). He was sat opposite his first lieutenant, who was settled in the corner, determined to watch everything. James was content that he could see the doorway.
"I think Harry's going to need his arm stitching up, sir." Groves answered. "And Gibbs is limping. Peters and Markel never made it of the Equity and Kipling went overboard not long after they caught up to us. Looks to be nothing major otherwise."
"You're forcing yourself calm." James whispered to him, barely speaking so the men didn't overhear.
"Sir?" Concern decorated Groves' face as he saw the lethargy sweeping each of the men.
"Wait until we have a plan before you make people sleep." He said, forcing a smirk in an attempt to lighten the mood. Groves managed a fleeting smile.
"I feel like I should be doing something." Groves replied, twisting his fingers together as he stared at the men, watching them bind Harry's arm.
"The lieutenant is fine. Gibbs is fine. There is nothing we can do about Peters, Markel or Kipling. We need to rest."
"We need a plan to get out." The man hissed, unwilling to be a prisoner any longer than he had to. James smiled.
"We need to wait. Wait and rest up. I imagine Archer will want to speak to me, and that's when I'll be able to get a better view of the ship. We need to work out how many men or on each watch, try to work out how many men aboard the ship, then figure out a way to escape. But as I said, first we sleep."
With that, James wedged himself in beside Groves and leaned on the man's shoulder with his eyes shut.
"I don't want ye thinking I'm a cruel man, Captain Norrington." Archer was limping back and forth on the deck. James was held fast by two men as the captain spoke. "After all, life is about choices. So that's what I'm giving ye; another choice."
"What choice would this be?" James asked, trying to keep his tone disinterested.
"Ye good self, or yer crew."
"For what?"
"Why, entertainment of course. Me crew have been working hard for a long time now, being chased by one navy man, and then another." Archer grinned, a cruel twinkle lighting his eyes. "I think they've earned a reward."
"Me. Leave my men alone." James said, glaring at Archer. He was shaking slightly, fearful as he remembered his father's warning about the captain's harsh, sadistic nature, but a captain was to protect his crew, and he would endure this.
"A compassionate man, ey? How sweet. And ye are a pretty boy, far more pleasant to look at than the other Norrington we had. Did ye know him?"
James glared, but didn't answer. He didn't trust his voice to not wobble.
"Shall we see how pretty ye are in red?"
He was spun around, and they stripped him down to his breeches. He had half a moment to be thankful that he had left his coat with Groves, when the first lash fell. He gasped, twisting to try avoid the pain, even as he knew it would do no good. Another lash, and his back already felt as though it were ablaze. The blows continued to a chorus of cheers, and James heard bets being called out as the pain continued.
The sound of coins rang out as he let loose his first cry, and James turned his mind away from the ship.
He focussed on the sea.
He listened to the lapping of the waves against the edge of the boat, the noise as the wind pushed the water up. God was supposed to be where men were gathered together, but if He was here, He wasn't on deck. James listened for Him in the waves, in the comforting roar of the ocean. James found Him in the healthy breaths of his men, huddled together in the brig, in the ever present call of life below the surface of the water, in the world outside this cruelty.
He ignored the pain, he ignored the men around him. He fixed his eyes on the ocean, breathing in the salty air, feeling it burn his raw throat; the taste was a comfort though, and he focussed on that.
James barely noticed as he was shoved back down to the brig. Didn't feel it as Groves grasped his bare arms and sat him up. He stared blankly ahead of him, unaware of his men as the hovered nervously in place, unsure of how to help.
"Captain? Captain? Come on, James. Please?" Groves pleaded softly, desperately trying to get the green eyes to focus on him.
"Is… Is that blood on his…? It's just from his back, right?" Jones asked, his fear lapping against Groves' mind.
"Just his back." The lieutenant confirmed, though he didn't need to look to confirm. The amount of lust and sick enjoyment that had been on deck during the captain's torture had been almost impossible to bear, but he knew what that kind of completion felt like, and it seemed their captain had been spared.
"What do you suppose they wanted to know?" Jackson wondered quietly, tear tracks still on his face. They had all heard James screaming.
"I didn't hear any… I think it was just for fun. Remember that Admiral Norrington already got into a fight with Archer. This is probably revenge." Groves wrapped the thick coat around James, before returning to try and catch his eyes. There was a wave of emotion behind him: disgust and fury making up its body, and Groves could sympathise; he felt sick to his stomach.
"We can't stay here." Jones said, his voice becoming steadier as shock eased its hold on him.
"No." Groves noticed those green eyes finally watching him, and relief rocked him. "James."
The captain's dry lips moved, but no sound came out.
"Get some rest, sir."
"W-Was an-" James' words cut out as he began to cough. Having no water to offer him, Groves simply held the man as he struggled. "Anyone here?"
"You mean the crew? While you were up there? No, just us." Nearly all the crew had gone up to see the show.
"Ov- There." James gasped, pointing to an interior wall. "Out."
Groves looked, and spotted his spirit guide as she fluttered her wings elegantly. She swooped down to land on the floor, twisting her head around to look at the wall before hooting and disappearing. Leaving James curled in the corner, Groves went as close to the wall as he could while on the wrong side of the bars. It looked as though there was a small gap in the wood where rodents had chewed their way through, and the wood around it was old, rotten. He grinned.
"We just need to pick the lock." He murmured with a frown, aware that this was an area in which he had no skill. Keeping his voice soft so that the pirate didn't hear, he turned to the men. "Can anyone pick a lock?"
"Aye, sir." Gibbs nodded. "But it mayn't be quiet."
"From what I gather, the plan is to wait until they… take the captain again." Hating himself for even speaking the words, Groves took a steadying breath and looked at the man.
"Aye, sir." He replied, voice grave in understanding.
"Get some rest everyone." He instructed, settling back down beside James. He concentrated, taking the worst of the anxiety from the crew and letting their own exhaustion fill the space left.
It was when James awakened that Groves realised something was off; the man didn't seem to feel anything. He was able to sit against the wall without making a noise, but when Groves dipped the cup into the bucket of water they had been given to drink, it slipped through his fingers as though they were numb.
"Did you sleep on your arm?" Groves muttered as he refilled the cup and helped James to take a sip. The water made the man choke and retch for a moment, but Groves waited until he could try again.
"Can't really feel." James murmured in reply, his eyes sweeping the brig, taking in the condition of his crew.
"As in you are numb, or…"
"I… I don't know. I can feel… your hand is a bit warm." James' face was blank, but Groves could feel the fear of the unknown bubbling beneath, threatening to overwhelm.
"Focus on that warmth then. Can you feel it in your hands? What else can you feel? Your hands are warm too, and your arms. You are sweating. Can you feel it?" He began to whisper to James, trying to suppress his own confusion in favour of helping his friend and captain. It was years since he had helped someone change how much of a sense they noticed, but it wasn't too difficult if you were confident and the sentinel trusted you.
Bloody hell… James was a sentinel. He could be arrested for serving under false pretences, if Groves was foolish enough to tell anyone. He thought back to the screams they had heard yesterday. Towards the end, they had fluctuated in intensity; James' ability to feel must have been shifting from high to low and back again.
He continued to guide the man back to normality, knowing they had struck it as James paled and curled forwards slightly.
"You're a sentinel and you didn't tell me?" Groves hissed quietly as James straightened up.
"What?" Green eyes narrowed in confusion and Groves acknowledged that the expression was genuine.
"You didn't know?"
"Know what?" James sighed, sounding exhausted.
"You're a sentinel."
"I'm a…" the captain blinked at him, puzzlement lining his tired face. "Oh."
"Always have to be difficult, don't you?" Groves muttered, dry humour filling him with an inappropriate desire to giggle. He kept it in. Wouldn't do for an officer to become hysterical.
"Sentinels can decide how much they feel." James stated in an undertone. "Can you teach me how?"
"Not all sentinels... but you apparently can. Let's see what we can do before the captain comes back for you."
"If I don't have to feel everything, then I'd rather not." James decided with a nod, before sitting cross-legged. He looked every inch the attentive student, if not for the fact the he wore only his stained breeches and his coat.
Groves took a moment to calm himself, then he began.
Watching James get dragged out by his hair was difficult enough to endure, but it was even worse when he realised two things:
First was that the main emotion up on deck was lust, and a thrill of excitement was washing over the men as James was led out.
Second was that not every crewman had gone up for this show. There were two men sat watching the brig, their emotions generally settled around disgust and horror, and several more who disapproved elsewhere.
Groves couldn't help worrying about what James was going to go through. It was not the sort of thing that one could just ignore because you couldn't feel it. What if not having the pain to distract him meant that James couldn't ignore the fact the he was about to be violated in the worst way? What if not having the pain meant he had too much clarity during the event, and could remember exactly what happened in the future?
It was a struggle to quell his own emotions enough to suggest sheer exhaustion to the men watching them, but as the men on deck began to jeer and shout, their lust seeping through Groves own mental shields, he went for the unsubtle approach of mentally informing the men they needed to sleep. The two dropped like bricks, but thankfully the crew didn't question what had happened. Gibbs knelt down and set to work.
Once Gibbs had gotten them out the brig with a skill that honestly worried the lieutenant, Groves led the men over to the hole. It was more difficult than he had expected to expand the gap, the wood underneath not as rotten as he had hoped, but through determination, the men escaped.
As nauseous as it made Groves feel, when it came to sneaking across deck, he forced the pirates to focus every ounce of their attention on what was happening to James, and not one man looked around as they crept below deck once more and continued their task of knocking out those with at least some morals.
Back on deck and finally armed, Groves considered the task before them. He had warned the men earlier about what he suspected would happen to their captain so he was hoping that they would be able to fulfil their tasks without hesitation.
"Gibbs, you take your lot down the starboard side. I'll flank you with my men. Harry, you well enough to charge in once we are in position?"
"Aye." The man snarled softly, his face still pale but the expression fierce. "Just say when."
Groves rather wished he was at the back, where he could better concentrate on manipulating the pirates, as opposed to leading a group of men in an attack; but he was an officer and so informed the men on exactly what needed to happen before they struck. The only bit he omitted was his guide influence, as he wanted to continue his career after this.
"Now." He whispered, as they surrounded the pirates, and the men let out a rallying cry before engaging.
Soon enough, it was a matter of focussing on avoiding blows and parrying swords. Pistols weren't drawn as they were in such close proximity, but blades were slicing through the air in every direction as Groves fought his way to the centre.
James was completely naked as he lay face down on the deck, but Groves didn't have time to take it all in. Anger pulsed through him, darkening his vision as his attention turned to the pirate captain, Archer. His lack of coverings on his bottom half, down to his bare feet made him the centre of Groves' wrath and he yelled as he threw himself at the man, viciously attacking in a way that would have been foolish if he relied solely on his skills with a blade; instead, he poured his disgust into the man, weighing him down with the strength of his emotions until he was able to knock him out.
Stopping before he sliced open the unconscious man was difficult, but James believed that pirates ought to face trial and hang. So the monster would do just that.
A blade to the captain's throat and the rest of the fighting stopped. A large number of pirates had been vanquished, but Harry focussed on rounding up the rest to the brig as Groves dropped to his knees beside James, shrugging out of his coat to cover his friend's skin.
"James?" he turned the man's head so that he could see his face. It was bloody and those eyes were distant, as though James had retreated into his own mind. Groves allowed his friend to remain in the safety of nothingness, instead sitting him up and leading him off to the Captain's Cabin.
There was an overpowering smell of tobacco inside, which roused James.
"Theo." He whispered, eyes wide and voice achingly vulnerable.
Groves stepped forward in answer, grasping James' shoulders but aware of the nervousness the gesture brought on.
"They're going to hang!" he spat, barely able to contain his rage.
James nodded, before shutting his eyes and drawing the coat closer around himself.
"Can I leave you alone for a moment? I want to find out what supplies we have." Maybe he could find enough water for James to bathe.
"Thank you." The captain replied, his expression hidden by the tilt of his head and the loose hair that was no longer neatly in place.
Turning, Theodore Groves hurried out the cabin, swearing to himself that the fervour with which he focussed on the mission set to them by Admiral Norrington would greatly increase from this day on. The voice in the back of his mind that insisted not all pirates were so cruel was drowned out by the one that insisted he had to ensure that those who would rape, pillage and plunder would not walk free.
Elizabeth Swann liked to think she knew James Norrington very well, far better than propriety dictated that she ought to, but she had never given a damn about what other people thought she should do. At least, not most people; there were three men in Port Royal that Elizabeth cared for:
Her father was the first and she really would do anything if he needed her to. She could still remember being nine years old and confessing to her grief-stricken father that everywhere in London reminded her of the mother she would never see again. She could remember that her father had asked her to trust him, and then months later he had been given the position of governor in some distant land. They had left behind everyone they had known and settled somewhere that had no nostalgia attached to it.
The next was a boy she had met on the journey over there: William Turner. Her heart always fluttered whenever she thought of him, and the man he had become. He was her sentinel and she was his guide; two halves of the same soul. However, he was also a man held down by what was proper; he apparently had no difficulty denying his primal side, having never spoken to her out of turn, or show her any more acknowledgement than an awkward smile. James always grinned when she complained about this, and told her that perhaps William was just naturally shy… She didn't believe that for a moment.
The third and final man was, of course, James Norrington. He was a Navy man, an unbonded sentinel and eleven years her senior, but he was also one of the kindest men she knew and just as awkward as William, in his own way. He was also a pushover when it came to keeping those he loved happy. She knew something was coming, and she had her suspicions on what it was.
Her father kept hinting that she ought to be more appreciative of James' abilities, and how he was doing so well for himself. She could feel the hope inside him whenever James visited and they went to chat somewhere quiet; entirely improper of course, but her father never said no. James himself had an antithetical view of the situation, his anxiety and dread building whenever he had to speak with the governor these days; even so he always made time for her father whenever it was requested.
Therefore, when James took time after the ceremony to speak to her, she knew what was coming.
"I apologise for taking you away, but I must speak with you." James was wringing his hands together, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. Elizabeth would have helped to soothe him, but she couldn't think when she was unable to take a deep breath while wearing a heavy dress of a hot day.
"There are certain… obligations that ought to be achieved and…" James hesitated, turning to look at her. "Not that I would view marriage to you as an obligation. You are, after all, a dear friend and…"
James flushed, but her sight faded and her knees gave way. As Elizabeth fell, she felt a hand close around her wrist, but after a sudden jerk, she continued to fall.
"Singapore, mate." These were the first words Elizabeth heard as consciousness returned to her. The words spoken slowly and in a soft voice, as though the one talking was not really interested in the conversation.
Her attention felt like it was returning in stages, first she saw the two marines knelt either side of her, both blatantly hovering in concern, but neither touching her. Next she realised that she wore only her shift. Then that their attention kept wavering over to something behind her.
Pulling herself up, she reached out with her senses, trying to discover what was going on quicker than her sluggish body was willing to move. There was a sharp pain in her head as she did so, and she forced her muscles to obey her.
Frozen in position, a rugged man was kneeling over James, his hands pressed to James' cheeks. Neither the man, nor her friend seemed to notice the blood that was seeping into James' collar from his brown hair.
"James!" she startled, scrambling to her feet. She was stopped from touching him by the marines.
"You can't disturb him."
"He's bleeding."
"You both fell, but he hit a rock." The thin man replied, his eyes tracking over the Commodore and his companion.
"Are they zoned out?" The other marine wondered aloud, knocking gently into his friend. "That man can talk, so I'd say not but they've been there since he pulled Capt- I mean Commodore Norrington out."
"That would imply the Commodore is either a guide or a sentinel. He doesn't have a bondmate, he works in the Navy, which means he is not either."
"Not necessarily. He could have lied to get into the Navy. Maybe he thought he would have a better chance of finding his other half if he travelled."
"You think the Commodore is the sort of person who would lie to his superiors?"
As they make continued to discuss the possibilities, Elizabeth crept closer to the men.
"James?" she whispered. Now that she was closer, she could see that James' eyes were open slightly and they were moving, as though trying to take in the situation before he did anything at all.
"James? Is that your name? Come on then love. You need to get up." The other man coaxed, pulling his hands away and sitting back.
James let out a little noise that Elizabeth hated to label as a whimper, then he grasped the man's hand. As they both got to their feet, James with decidedly less grace than he usually possessed, the marines finally turned up.
"Elizabeth!" Her father's voice made the young woman turn. She kept her eyes on the marines as they surrounded the man and the officer, not even acknowledging her father as he wrapped his coat around her. "James?"
"Commodore?" One of the marines asked, as James looked decidedly dazed with one hand still wrapped around the other's wrist. "Who's this?"
"Smith!" exclaimed the man instantly, a wide smile showing glints of gold. "But I'll answer to Smithy, mate."
"No." James murmured, pulling the wrist closer to him and showing the cuff higher up his arm. "A pirate… A sparrow? Jack Sparrow."
"Captain Jack Sparrow." The man insisted, pulling his arm free from the Commodore's grasp. Elizabeth held back a smile; she had heard so much about this pirate from sailors who docked in Port Royal's harbour. He was practically a legend amongst pirates.
"Hang him!" her father commanded, and the marines lowered their guns at him. James stared at Sparrow's face, blinking hard as though trying to focus.
"Father? Are you really going to kill my rescuer?" She looked pleadingly up at him. "Not only mine, but James' as well?"
"He's a pirate." One of the lieutenants snapped, before turning to speak to one of the marines.
"Gillette." James murmured, turning his lost gaze upon the man.
"Sir? You're bleeding." Gillette gave an apologetic look to James, before commanding some marines to bring him along. "Ah, there are the irons."
Wrists bound, Captain Jack Sparrow watched the Commodore for a long moment, but then his dark eyes settled on her.
"Wait. What's that?"
It was her medallion, and she turned away, pulling her father's coat tighter around herself.
"Groves?" James was pushing his way through the marines, moving dizzily but with determination. "I think I need to speak to him."
"When he's behind bars, sir." A tanned young man stepped closer and drew the Commodore away. "And your eyes are… odd. Maybe we should take you to get that stitched up."
James was pulled away, and Sparrow was lead through the streets, escorted by a dozen marines. Elizabeth sighed as she watched him go. Maybe she could give James a list of questions to ask him for her… assuming he was well enough before the pirate hung.
The first thing James knew about a pirate attack was when he eating a small breakfast the next day. He had slept soundly through the night, having succumbed to the mixed sedatives of chamomile and Groves' enforced sleepiness, before they had stitched his wound and dressed it with something that now smelt like roses, eggs and something else that he was still too tired to try and identify. However, he was thankful that the Doctor had declared him able to sleep, the decision had involved a lot of uncomfortable staring into his eyes, but at least he hadn't had to fill the night with something to do.
"Commodore? The governor is here to see you."
"Already?" James frowned, sleepily rubbing at his face. "Show him in, will you?"
"James! They took Elizabeth!" The governor was distressed, his eyes wide and his breathing panicked.
"Governor? Who took Elizabeth?"
"Didn't you hear the attack?" Weatherby Swann dropped into the seat beside James, tears in his eyes as he looked at the young man before him. "You look dreadful. And there's blood on your bandage there. I didn't realise you'd been injured so."
"I… couldn't say, governor. The doctor insisted on knocking me out yesterday afternoon so that I didn't unbalance any humours. I tried to insist that it didn't hurt, but I could not explain why I feel no pain without getting myself arrested. I… What attack?"
His head was pounding and the smell of the opiates left for him, even though they were on the sideboard on the other side of the room, was strong and it was difficult to keep control of his senses while he was floundering.
"A pirate attack! James, they took Elizabeth. I don't know what to do." The governor looked small, sat haphazardly in a chair, his wig shabby and his clothing disordered.
"We'll head to the fort and see what information has been gathered so far. Perhaps the pirates were talking about plans as they attacked, or perhaps something was left behind. Do you know if they took Sparrow?"
"The pirate from yesterday? I… have no idea." The man looked less frightened, and with a determined look that reminded James strongly of Elizabeth, he stood up. "Let's head off then. I'll wait in my carriage, give you time to get ready."
"I shan't be long."
"Although… James?" The governor stopped and turned to look at him, concern written clearly on his face. "Should you be heading out? I don't want you falling ill. That on top of Elizabeth disappearing would be too much."
"I'll take the pain away. It's not a bother, governor. I'd only get worked up if I had to stay behind."
"I suppose so." The older man managed a weak smile, before he hurried out.
James took a deep breath, trying to quell the bilious feeling spreading through him. He had better sight than sailor in Port Royal, with the possible exception of Mr Mullroy, a bonded sentinel in the marines; however, he had never bothered to test the difference in their eyesight.
"So, did anyone find anything?" James interrupted the marines' arguing. "Were any of the pirates overheard?"
"Not as such, sir." Murtogg replied, straightening up.
"Meaning?" Growled James, his need to find Elizabeth worming into his patience. Beside him, Gillette frowned slightly, his eyes flickering into his face; Groves sighed discretely pressed against his side, trying to calm his friend. For once, it didn't work; the feel of Groves beside him was distinctly wrong and it made his skin itch. He stepped forward in an unintentionally threatening manner.
"We… I heard say the pirates were looking for gold, sir." Mullroy answered, moving slightly to half stand in front of his friend. "From what we have heard from people, the gold calls to them."
"Gold doesn't do any such thing."
"Cursed gold, sir." Murtogg cut in, apparently interested in anything supernatural as his expression brightened. "It calls out to those it has cursed."
"I can't say I've heard any treasure calling." The Commodore said softly. Then he turned away and to ascend the nearby steps on the way to the gaol cells. "Was Sparrow taken by the pirates?"
"No sir." Lieutenant Gillette hurried after him, leaving the other behind to discuss possible routes out of Port Royal. "Those thieves got away and there's a hole in the wall, but Sparrow is still there."
"Then I shall speak with him." James had had a suspicion that Sparrow was still in the town, but he had been unwilling to contemplate what it was that made him think so.
"Yes sir."
"Wait here." James headed down the narrow staircase, eyes focussed on the man at the bottom.
Captain Jack Sparrow was sat cross legged on the floor, his dark eyes staring up at James as the officer approached him.
"Captain Sparrow." He began, deciding he ought to treat the man respectfully if he wanted any assistance.
"Commodore James." The man grinned up at him.
"Norrington." James corrected calmly.
"What's that?"
"My surname. I am to be addressed as Commodore Norrington."
"To the masses, maybe. But you and me, mate, we're closer than that." The man slid to his feet, as smooth as a snake charmed by men on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.
"I'm here to discuss the pirates, Sparrow."
"Must we, luv?" Sparrow wrapped long fingers around the bars, his eyes intense as they bored into James. This close, the commodore couldn't ignore the smell; under the scent of unwashed pirate, there was something heady that was undoubtedly the man's natural scent. It filled his nostrils, and combined with the pirate's attractive stance, James felt the first stirrings of arousal. He stepped back, trying to control the primal urge to claim the man.
"We must."
"'Ow about this then? Why does the Navy allow an unbonded sentinel to walk about, and in a position of command?"
"I wish to discuss the pirates, Sparrow."
"Alright then. Ask away, luv." Sparrow held his face up to the bars, and James took an unconscious step forwards, close enough to feel the man's rum-soaked breath.
"Do you know where they are heading?"
"I know where they're heading." He smirked. "If you let me out, I'll take you there, savvy?"
"I can't let you out, but perhaps if you're information proves useful then I can grant you some leniency." James forced the words out, trying to appear calm and he spoke. His desire for Sparrow to agree was burning in him.
"Desperate, James luv?" Calloused fingers caressed his cheek, trailing around to press at his lips.
"The pirates kidnapped Elizabeth. Something to do with pirate gold. I would save her." His breath was coming in pants, words spaced out and soft as he allowed Sparrow to touch.
"The other guide." Sparrow's voice went cold, and the pirate stepped back.
"How did you know she is a guide?"
"Sorry, mate. I can't help." The pirate tried to smirk, but the expression looked forced, and he sat again on the floor; this time he faced the wall. "I'm sure we'll speak later, Commodore James."
Perplexed at the change in attitude, but aware that he had wasted more time down here than he had intended, James decided to head back to his officers to discuss their plans for retrieving Elizabeth. On his way out, he stopped to look at the collection of items removed from the pirate; the compass didn't point North and the pistol only had one shot, but the sword was a nice one. He wondered who it had belonged to previously.
William Turner reeked of desperation as he approached the men. James understood why; after all, Elizabeth was convinced that she and Turner were of one soul. It was Turner who had never acted like it. The pain the blacksmith had caused his friend over the years caused James to treat him harshly, especially as Turner had never been bothered about her before, so James didn't entirely trust his determination now; he couldn't, not with someone so dear to him in danger.
"Groves, please see him away."
"Yes sir."
Groves' sent out a wave of calming influence, and while it stirred the exhaustion James had been fighting, all it allowed Turner to do was take a deep breath and speak without growling.
"We have to save her."
"And here I was planning to have a cup of tea." James' voice was mordant as he traced a finger across the map before him, sarcasm rising with his frustration. He pushed back his pain, burying feeling so that he could focus on the patterns of the wind that the pirates may follow.
"You must know something about the pirates." Turner's own frustration was audible.
"That ship was the Black Pearl, wasn't it? Didn't Sparrow mention the Black Pearl?" Mullroy spoke up, apparently noticing his partner's discomfort at the negative emotions.
"Mentioned it, is more what he did." Murtogg replied, apparently incapable of simply agreeing with the other marine. James supposed they enjoyed bickering, trying to scowl at them as he thought of Sparrow, pressed against the bars of the gaol. Turner provided the necessary distraction.
"Then ask him where it is!"
"There pirates that attacked left him behind, ergo they are not his allies." James stated, but his mind started working. Perhaps Turner could get information out of Sparrow. The commodore still didn't know what he had done to offend the pirate, but surely the earnest desperation that Turner displayed would work.
If he helped retrieve the governor's daughter, then perhaps Jack Sparrow wouldn't hang.
As Turner hurried away, no doubt to sneak into the gaol, James turned to the governor to show him the planned route.
"What do you think, sir?"
"Yes, yes. James, I trust you. Do what you must." The governor tried to smile, but his terror for Elizabeth was overpowering
"Gillette, Groves? Prepare the Interceptor."
"Yes sir."
While James had known what was coming when Sparrow and Turner stole the Interceptor, he couldn't deny that he was torn with indecision over what to do next. He must have been more suspicious of Sparrow than he realised, because his senses seemed to have adapted to follow the pirate.
It was this that allowed him to overhear the conversation between Turner and Sparrow, and he acknowledged that perhaps Turner could be of use in the retrieval of Elizabeth… even if he was a little overdramatic about it: 'I'd die for her' indeed.
However, James had to admit surprise when he had seen the overturned boat pushing its way through the murky waters towards the anchor of the Dauntless. He had stood from his vantage point and watched them, the view impeded only by the sailors preparing the Interceptor.
Should he shout for help? Demand that someone stop them? That was his ship they were stealing, and in a way he would prefer them to take the Interceptor, but then the Dauntless was a far more powerful ship and surely she would keep them safe. But then, how would two men crew her? They would have to pick a crew up somewhere…
He watched the two men haul themselves up and into the ship, still torn.
It was only when Lieutenant Gillette was heading towards them and Groves pointed him out that James finally acted as he ought to. Sailing out to his ship, James continued to consider letting them escape. He didn't want to hang either of them, and Elizabeth would not be pleased if they saved her only to reveal that they had killed her sentinel…
"What do we do, sir?" whispered Groves, watching as the Interceptor pulled away from them.
"Make the Dauntless ready for sail."
"Are we chasing Sparrow or Miss Swann?"
"One will lead to the other, and I should be able to track Sparrow."
The salty tang of the ocean air was as refreshing and invigorating as ever. James spent most of his time beside the helm, breathing deeply as he listened to the distant murmurs of Jack Sparrow. It was only the open water and the good weather that allowed him to pick the man's lilting voice out, but even so, James was thankful for it.
Groves was not. The commodore spent all his time on deck, and everything else, eat, sleep, bodily functions, none of them happened until Groves literally pulled the man away and reminded him. He could only imagine the struggle his commanding officer was going through though. Groves had never held a true bond with anyone, and though he was loyal (to a fault, according to some) to James Norrington, it was not the primal urging of a guide and sentinel connection that promoted it; he was loyal because they were friends, they had been through much together and he trusted James more than any other officer he had served.
The lieutenant had realised that he was not alone in his loyalty though; nearly all the men of the Navy in Port Royal would follow the commodore anywhere, as he had never steered them wrong before. Groves wondered if this would last though, if it could last once they realised the commodore was bonded to a pirate. For, that was definitely occurring. James had started to bond, and his need to find his guide would become all-consuming until them managed to complete the bond. He supposed that some of the men must have begun to suspect something already, as the officer was not acting as he ought to.
The commodore forgot to do the most basic things, and Groves had had to bring him back to his senses too often as the man tried to focus his entire being on Jack Sparrow. The bloody pirate had better watch what he did when they caught up with him, for the past fortnight had been beyond difficult.
"We have to do something." Gillette came up beside him as Groves stared up at from the fore of the ship. "His head is surely only just healing, but the knocks seems to have addled his mind."
"He won't rest until everything is the way it should be."
"The Doctor gave you opiates for him, right? Can't we use them to get him to sleep?" Gillette's voice was soft, but he didn't know how good James' hearing was. "He'll be of no use if he doesn't rest."
"He doesn't react well to opiates." Groves said vaguely, unwilling to explain both how strong they were to a sentinel, and how addictive. "Still, we'd best make more of an effort to get him to sleep. He's starting to look like a ghost, even with his skin starting to burn."
Thankfully, it was later that morning that Groves felt James' body reach its limit; exhaustion filled him, and Groves jumped to take advantage. Gillette was by his side in an instant as he started to push James into the cabin, and together they stripped him down to his breeches, gave him a chemise to wear instead of his uniform shirt and forced him to bed. For the rest of the day, every time the man stirred, Groves used his abilities to send him back to Morpheus.
When James stirred the next day, it is the smell of smoke that wakes him. It's not enough to have him leaping out of his bunk, but the scent permeated his sleep and roused him. As green eyes glanced blearily around the cabin, he wondered where the smell originated.
On deck, he spotted the start of a small fire on an island in the distance and so pointed it out to Groves.
"Which way, sir?" The man asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked.
"Over there. I could smell the smoke, but I can see it now."
"I'll tell helm to adjust course, sir."
He could see Gillette peering curiously down at him from the helm as he followed James' directions. The lieutenant was an intelligent man, and sometimes the commodore thought he could see understanding hovering just out of his grasp. He mused over this as he watched the smoke creep closer, if Gillette worked out he was a sentinel, what would the man do?
James rather hoped the man would continue to serve him loyally, accepting him as capable of working as an unbonded individual. However, fear held him back; perhaps he himself did not hold Gillette's loyalty. As much as the thought hurt, James had to consider the possibility that it was the Navy that received Gillette's devotion, and that the man would turn him in if he realised that James was breaking the strict laws that had been laid down, generations ago.
Turning away from the men, he deliberately listened to the noises beyond the ship, straining his ears to pick up the bickering voices of Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann as she had apparently decided to burn what it was that kept the pirate grounded: rum.
"I must say, mate, I am thrilled to see ye. Now, say you have rum somewhere aboard?" Jack Sparrow approached James as soon as his feet touched the deck.
"Rum?" the officer's thoughts scattered as his pirate approached him. He could hear the familiar sounds of Elizabeth arguing with her father, this time over the fate of William Turner, but he was unable to tear his eyes away from Sparrow. In a way, James had already acknowledged that they would need to go and fetch the boy as well, when he had realised that only Sparrow and Elizabeth were on the small island; he was her sentinel after all, and so James had a responsibility to see him back safely.
"Please, do this. For me." Begged Elizabeth as James turned away. "As a wedding present."
"Elizabeth, are you accepting the commodore's proposal?" James had frozen, but Governor Swann sounded joyous.
"I am." She tried to smile as James turned to look at her, but neither of them could manage that simply gesture.
"No." snarled a low voice from behind her, and Jack Sparrow tore his way from the grip of Mullroy and Murtogg. "You're a liar." He breathed at her, voice inaudible all but Elizabeth, who was in front of him, and James, who was as aware of Sparrow as ever.
"Captain Sparrow." James addressed him. "If you would accompany these fine men to the helm then we can-"
"No." the pirate interrupted again, his face livid. "She ought to be able to find him herself, or she ain't a guide."
"Elizabeth?" James glanced at her, unsure of how to react. He stepped towards them though, concerned with Sparrow's behaviour.
Sparrow stalked over to him, his body as enchantingly fluid as ever. James didn't move, unexplainable eager to remain in his path.
"You're mine." Sparrow whispered darkly, his hands clasping James' arms. "Yer good self belongs to me."
Arousal spiked through James at the words, and the smouldering look Sparrow sent him made him turn and drag the pirate into his cabin.
"If you would step up to the helm then, Miss Swann?" he heard Gillette say, as Groves was clearly trying to keep everyone disinterested in what was happening between the commodore and the pirate.
But then Sparrow's lips were on his, and he could of nothing at all. The hot slide of wet flesh sent a thrill through him that caused him to pull the other closer, pressing the firm body to his own with a burning desire that he had never before experienced so sharply. He allowed himself to be pushed against the wall of the cabin, his attention focussed on removing the pirate's clothing rather than the way his own seemed to be sliding off.
"Fuck." Muttered Sparrow. "Fuck, Jamie."
"J-James." James stuttered, his body heating up as though they were still out in the mid-day sun.
"Only, if ye call me Jack, luv." The pirate smirked, his dark eyes raking up and down James' pale body. But he pressed their lips together again before James could reply, running his tongue along James' lips and dipping it inside.
James moaned low as he tasted Jack, underneath the taste of rum that lingered. He sucked on the muscle that probed his mouth, shuddering at the rough feel of it. Every time he left like falling into his senses, focussing just on the feel, or the taste, then Jack would move up to murmur in his ear, or he would demand James looked at him.
The experience was off-balancing and James felt unable to catch his breath. Instead, he pressed his naked body to Jack's, whimpering loudly as the pirate pushed him down into the rough blankets, calloused fingers roaming the skin. He wanted to follow it, the motion of those fingers, but Jack's body was an insistent weight against his cock and he wanted more pressure there too. Spreading his long legs, he pressed his feet into the blankets and used the leverage to rock up against Jack; the muffled cry he got in return told him that his effort was appreciated.
"More." He moaned, legs quivering as he kept them wide, desire flowing through him with such force that it was all he could do to keep his breath.
The experience didn't stir memories of the other pirate who had had him. Archer's gaze had never send an invigorating rush through him the way Jack's lusty stare did. James' body was more than capable of feeling the slight tremble in the man's body and the men began to move together.
James pulled Jack down to duel him in a far more wanton battle of bodies than the Navy would ever consider proper; he held the other face to his own, half trying to merge their bodies together before Jack was even ready to enter him.
He had heard sex described before as two ships passing in the night, but this was in no way similar. Surely this was two ships being shattered apart and rebuilt into one vessel, for James could not tell where his body ended and Jack's began. It was during this time that Jack's mind fully connected with James'; while the pirate's eyes went wide and he stopped in surprise, the officer simply wrapped his long limbs around his partner and urged the man to continue.
Their culmination was more wonderful than James had ever expected. Exhausted, he dozed off in little time.
As content as James was when he awoke several hours later, he had to concede the fact that matters were not solved. However, as he made his way up onto deck, his body thrummed with an energy it had never had before.
"You look well." Groves didn't quite manage to keep his smirk hidden as he approached the commodore.
"I can't begin to tell you the difference." He admitted, his eyes seeking out the other sentinel-guide pair; they were bickering again, this time over whether sentinels and guides were supposed to have sex or not. With a blush, James looked away; he hadn't thought about other people hearing them.
"Perhaps I should go hunting for my sentinel, if it's so good." Groves had given up on the pretence of having a serious conversation, but James simply grinned at him, his mood light enough to bear the mocking.
"Heaven forbid you find a pirate as well."
Groves laughed, and wandered off to do some actual work as Jack approached James. The expectant gaze of the fox made James frown, wondering what it was his spirit guide wanted him to do.
"What's William Turner like?" he asked, curious about the boy and unwilling to discuss their own personal situation yet.
"Will? He's… young. He's more gentle than I expected of Bill's son. Sensitive. Innocent. Bit of a bore." Jack waved a hand through the air to indicate more words to that effect. "He's an intuitive lad though, when 'e lets go of acting how he should and goes fer acting like 'imself."
"What does that mean?" James wrinkled his nose, trying to make sense of the explanation. He'd never really bothered about Turner before, considering him a shy person despite the fact that Elizabeth insisted he really wasn't.
"He acts how 'e thinks it's proper to act. But when he's not trying to remember what 'e's supposed to be doing, 'e can act like himself, aye? Then he doesn't need to ask 'does this whatsit go there?' or what have ye. Then he knows when to talk and sometimes, what to say."
"Not as bad as he acts then." He murmured, thinking back to Elizabeth. He knew that she wasn't on deck, but had gone below to talk to her father, as the low murmur of their voices informed him.
"Like you can talk, luv." Snorted Sparrow quietly.
As the sun dipped in the sky, James turned his attention to what was coming.
"We need a plan." He said, his eyes on the Isle that was still a fair way off.
"Beyond 'Go in and blast them bejeezus out of them?' then?"
"Something slightly more tactful, yes."
"Want your little mateys up here to discuss it then?"
"Yes."
Once everyone was gathered, they discussed different plans. Gillette was content to go with Jack's idea; to let him go in and send everyone out. Groves claimed that he didn't trust Jack, and they settled for glaring at each other as ideas continued to move between them. Elizabeth wanted to be given a sword and the chance to go rescue her sentinel. James knew Jack was holding something back, but still didn't want the man to go alone.
Even once they had reached the Isle du Muerta and were settled in the longboats by the entrance to the cave, no strategy had been settled on.
"I told you, luv. There's no need to worry about an ambush. You do the ambushing."
"You are not telling me everything." James sighed as he pushed Jack's hands off his person.
"Come on luv." Jack leaned in, close enough for James to feel his breath on his ear. "We've got no other plan."
"If you go in there, we are not going to just sit aboard the Dauntless and wait to see what happens."
"Course not. Ye can wait here, and then when they come out, you can start shooting. Still, the governor and the future Mrs Turner will need to be kept safe, just in case."
"Fine." James snapped, with no intention of doing what Jack insisted on.
They dropped Jack off at the cave entrance, then headed back out into view of the Dauntless, where James gave the order to signal those aboard the ship.
"Tell them to watch the anchor lines." He said, remembering Jack's trick of reaching the anchor with an overturned boat. In the cave, he could hear chanting and shouting, and he was keen to get a move on.
Watching the men signal to the ship as others discussed what they were doing made James impatient.
"Pratt, I'm going over there. You keep an eye on things here. Use your judgment." He said, listening to Jack barter with Barbossa.
"Aye, sir."
Those in his longboat insisted on dropping him off in the cave entrance, as they had for Jack, but James left behind his bulky coat, his hat and his wig. He didn't want to immediately stand out, nor did he want to be encumbered by anything. He was sloshing through thigh deep water when it happened; a coldness spreading through him, so deep that it couldn't be a chill from the icy water. He leant against the rock, eyes wide and limbs trembling. There was a pain, except that it was nothing physical.
It was soul deep.
Hurrying, James pushed on. He swam through the water when the bottom dropped away once more, despite the heavy clothing he still wore. He could think of nothing but Jack, and yet he could barely sense the man. He could hear him, but it was distant.
He could no longer hear the man's heartbeat. The realisation froze him further, and tears suddenly blurred his eyes. He could hear Jack's voice though. He was still talking, and James focussed on that.
"All hands to the boats!" Jack shouted, startling James as he pulled himself out.
"Gents? Take a walk." Drawled the other pirate, and James quickly looked for a decent cranny to hide in, slipping out of view just as the pirate went past.
He frowned in confusion as they stepped straight into the water, sinking as those they had no breath to keep them afloat. Wildly, he considered hurrying back to warn the others, but he couldn't make himself leave Jack behind. The guide hadn't come out, and James still had no idea what had happened to him.
As the last two pirates hurried past, these two wearing some kind of long material that brushed against the rocks and heading for the water, James tried to quell his panic enough to move.
"Wait?" one of them stopped, sniffing the air as he turned. "Do I smell something?"
"You might." The skinny man replied, rubbing at an eye. "Your ability to smell was like no other, leastways it was before we was cursed."
James stopped moving altogether, holding as still as possible. Another sentinel? That meant there were four in and around this cave. It would have been fascinating to consider the idea of so many in one place, if James hadn't overheard the fact that they were cursed.
Cursed gold? The marines had said the pirates could hear the cursed gold when they had entered Port Royal; it felt like months had passed since then, but it hadn't even been weeks. Was there really cursed gold? Had Jack been cursed?
Holding a snarl in, James listened as they got into a boat and sailed out. He was surprised to see the men wearing dresses, but he could do nothing to stop them. His gunpowder would be wet for the moment, and he wasn't going to throw his sword to stop them.
Moving quietly, he crept further in. The caves actually went quite deep, but it didn't take James too long to follow the sound of fighting. Jack and Turner were battling against pirates. His stomach dropped away as he saw that the pirates truly were cursed, their skin rotting one moment, then whole the next.
Not daring to look at Jack too long, James sprinted over to Turner. He snarled at the young man, unable to make words form as his emotions danced frantically about. Thankfully, Turner seemed to understand what he was trying to say.
"Keep them off me." He replied, and James did just that. He slashed and attacked anyone who got too close to the other sentinel as he ran up to the large chest sat on a mound of treasure.
As Turner cut his hand and dropped the bloody medallion into the chest, James saw Jack behind him, staggering back with a sword through his chest. Letting out a roar, James hurtled towards them, anger honing his senses as he moved. He leapt lightly over a pirate that Elizabeth had knocked down, sparing no time to consider where she had come from. Instead, he threw himself at Barbossa.
Knocking Jack out the way, he manged to snarl the word "Go!" at him, before turning his attention to the other. He thrust and parried with his beautiful sword, determined to keep the pirate occupied. He had to give Jack time to break the curse, and so restore himself; hopefully, that would take the biting cold away.
The aggression in their duel was nothing new to James, having spent many years hunting pirates down, but it was annoying that every hit he landed made the other man laugh… the monster. He glowered, eyes flitting over to where Jack was sparring his way past other pirates. The distraction cost him, and James yelped as the blade cut into his shoulder.
And then warmth flooded back into him as the pirate before him returned to the appearance of a man. He looked over to see that Jack had broken the curse, but Barbossa didn't stop. Blocking another attack and swiping at the man's now vulnerable legs, James got back to his feet and continued in a far fairer duel. At every turn, James could see Jack's warm, solid flesh, could hear his heartbeat; he could smell the man, would get to touch him, taste him.
The very idea allowed him to fight with fortitude, and a determination. Barbossa was at a distinct disadvantage now though, flinching with every cut of James' blade, unused to pain. However, the man fought well, and he fought to the death; not stopping until the hilt of James' sword was pressed against his chest, the blood on the blade that protruded from his back glistening in the moonlight.
He hadn't even had time to wipe his sword clean before Jack was on him, pressing their lips together as though trying to fully merge with the officer. He heard Turner's cry of surprise, but did not care to explain anything. Let Elizabeth fulfil that duty; he was more interested in the press of Jack's body against his own, the left-over energy from the battle turning into lust.
They didn't copulate again though, as Jack insisted on looking at James' shoulder. His waistcoat was stripped off, then his shirt unfastened enough for Jack to poke at the wound.
"It's not so bad." James said, trying to sound aloof as he resisted the urge to hiss in pain. "We should head back to the Dauntless."
"Drop me at the Pearl?"
"I… shouldn't…" James hesitated, eyes going wide as he remembered his position in relation to Jack's.
"Then ye'll have to hang me. Can you do that, luv?" Jack pressed a warm hand to his cheek, eyes seeking out his intently.
"I… I don't know."
"Then what do you propose we do, Commodore Jamie?"
"I don't know." James stared at him. He could hear Elizabeth and Turner as they waited for them, but he was torn.
"Jamie?" For all that he was smiling warmly at him, Jack didn't outright insist one way or the other. It was frustrating, but his mind drifted back to his father. The man had told him that he owed his life to a pirate, and that was a debt he should try and get rid of. While his father had never told him who the pirate was, or why he owed his life to the man, James had known that it was not a debt he would repay to any pirate. However, this one, he could.
"We'll take you to the Black Pearl." He smiled at the man, his guide. "You aren't going free, you are simply allowed to have a head start."
"You're the one who'll have to explain that to yer officers, luv." But Jack was grinning at him, those quick fingers sliding over his face. With a jolt, James realised he had no idea what had happened to his men. Grasping Jack's hands in his own, he shut his eyes and listened carefully:
Gillette had survived and was ordering repairs to be started. Groves… he seemed to be giving instructions on what to do with the prisoners. The governor wasn't talking, and it took James a little longer to recognise the heartbeat of his friend, and the soft panting that was definitely Weatherby Swann.
"My officers will have to understand." He whispered, leaning in to kiss the man again. It was a soft, gentle exchange, a brief gesture before they had to stand and head for a longboat.
"Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked, her whole body showing signs of exhaustion as she leant against Turner.
"We shall drop this pirate off at his ship. Give him a chance to captain it before I catch him again." James smirked at Jack's expression. "Then, we shall head back to the Dauntless, and Port Royal."
"You're just going to let Jack go?" Turner's voice was drenched in suspicion. Apparently watching James kiss Jack wasn't enough of a hint for the lad.
"For now. I'm sure the governor will grant me clemency though." He replied, mostly resisting the need to roll his eyes as he settled in the boat beside Jack.
"If not, you can always turn pirate and come live with me, Jamie my love."
"What a tempting offer." James replied flatly.
Elizabeth giggled as Turner began to row. James focussed on the press of Jack against him, knowing he was going to have to explain to more than just the governor why he had let the pirate go, but not wanting to think about it just yet.
He was happy to put reality to one side for a little while longer.