Author's Note: If you have not read The Memoirs of James Norrington Part 1 then I would encourage you to do so, because I can assure you that there will be plot points alluded to and characters revisited.

Also, remember that there is a Character Index in the last chapter of Part 1 that might be helpful to you as you read this installment.

Chapter One

James Norrington opened his eyes. As his eyes blinked into the light, he gradually came to remember where he was, that he had traveled to the land of the afterlife and back, rejecting death to join William Turner's crew as one of the many souls aboard The Flying Dutchman. He lay back on his thin pillow, releasing a sigh of deep satisfaction. By God! But it was good to sleep. He had forgotten the soothing rhythm of fatigue and rest that had been absent during his month as a disembodied soul. Now, restored, it seemed, to life, he felt all the needs and sensations of living--and now he had rested, his stomach growled to let him know that he was ravenously hungry.

He rolled out of his bunk and sat up, relishing the feeling of blood not just pumping through his veins, but for the first time in a month actually providing nourishment and vitality. He almost sprang to his feet, filled with the giddiness and freshness of a child. He dressed quickly but correctly, quietly exalting how much brighter everything looked, how much richer everything felt, the thrill of breath puffing to inflate his lungs, the vibration of his heart in his chest, and the warmth that burned in every sinew and bone and tissue of his body. For a month his body had been merely functioning. Now he truly lived.

Stepping out of his cabin his nostrils were blissfully filled with the appetizing smell of what he felt certain was cornmeal, and he followed the urgent commands of his stomach to its source. After three bowls of a thick brown and heavily spiced stew taken with a good deal of corncake, James Norrington climbed the companionway and stepped into the sunshine of the Dutchman's deck.

He was hailed immediately by Captain Turner, who was standing on the bridge keeping a watchful eye on the deck, where a longboat had just emptied half a dozen passengers. Skirting around a laced and veiled senorita and her duenna, Norrington heeded the call of his new captain.

"Look at that. All Spaniards, and I don't speak a word of the language." Captain William Turner waved a hand at the new arrivals.

"I do, sir." Norrington offered, and neither man could help feeling the awkwardness of the address.

"Good. Then in a moment you shall go down and help to get them oriented, Mr. Norrington." Will replied, trying to conquer the discomfiture with authority.

"Aye, Captain." Norrington replied simply. It was terribly odd and somehow strangely comforting to be under the command of an officer again. During the few days he had served as part of Captain Sparrow's crew he had felt more like a slave than a seaman, but he knew Turner would be a good superior, if somewhat inexperienced. He even looked forward to his new occupation.

"How did you sleep?" Will questioned, once again speaking to him as a gentleman and an equal.

"Well. How long was I asleep?"

"Three days. Not surprising, considering you've been dead for a month."

Both men were unable to suppress a small chuckle.

"By the way," Norrington spoke seriously, "I might not have said so before, but I'm grateful to you, for what you did."

"What I did?" Will frowned, puzzled.

Norrington shrugged. "Taking me on as crew," He said simply.

Will wasn't sure just how to respond, so he straightened up and resumed his authoritarian tone. "Well, just see that you don't make me regret it, Mr. Norrington. Now, see to the passengers."

Norrington hid a somewhat wry grin as he brought his hand up in a crisp salute. "Aye, Captain."

Then he was off, down the steps and onto the deck where the duenna was sharp and defensive and the senorita shy yet full of smiles for the attractive young senor.

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It was decided that James would be in charge of greeting and 'orienting' new arrivals onto the ship, which left him with plenty of time to work on his memoirs. And so, an hour later, he returned to his small cabin, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from his stores, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote.

I will not waste too much detail on the night of drinking that followed the loss of all my hopes for Elizabeth and I. Suffice to say that with the aid of Port Royal's native rum I passed from morose depression to heartbroken anger and wild jealousy, ending the evening slumped on the floor of my sitting room in abject self-pity.

In the morning I was awakened by Mozart's gentle pleading, and after he forced me to drink a concoction that looked like liquefied excrement and tasted like vinegar mixed with cocoa, my head stopped buzzing so loudly and my stomach was finally able to reject its contents of the night before. I let him shave, dress, and feed me before Lt. Gillete burst in, determined and brisk, and so god-damned annoying that I wanted to punch him in his smug little face. I resisted the urge, however, and soon we were slipping out of Port Royal harbor on the wings of an excellent breeze.

Looking back now, it seems that I have lived three lifetimes. The first ended when I arrived in Port Royal. The third was begun in the sea of rum that drowned out all of my past hopes and dreams. I can still recall the emptiness, standing on the bridge of the Dauntless, staring out at the waves opening before me, unable to feel the thrill of the ocean's swell that had lifted my crushed spirits so many times before.

I felt utterly and completely lost. I no longer knew what to hope for. Not even my naval career held any joy for me now. All the plans I had made had been for myself and Elizabeth. When I had imagined myself making admiral, it had always been with Elizabeth by my side. Whatever triumphs I had in life I'd planned to share with her. And now she was not there to share them with.

As the days passed, I slowly regained affection for my profession, dedicating my thoughts and energies to His Majesty. I began to envision a new future without Elizabeth, one solitary, save for my old companion the Sea. I vowed that I would never let another mistress enter my heart except for Her.

And then came the vengeance. Before I turned my back completely on my old life, I knew there was one thing I had to do. I must destroy the man who had taken it all from me. The man who still haunted me, still made me doubt my own ability, who mocked my proposed future, who seemed to place himself before me in the Sea's fickle affections.

I redoubled my efforts to find him, but it seemed that he had won the Sea's favor, and kept always a step ahead of us. Had I known what plans my grinning mistress had in store, I would have spurned her love, but seduced by her promises of revenge, I trusted her, and sailed my crew deeper and deeper into disaster.

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A/N: YAY! Part 2 is finally begun! I know it's a bit later than May, but here it is. I've really been looking forward to writing Norrington's tragic fall, but as I wrote this I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He really is so lost and he has no idea what miseries lay ahead for him.