Stranded!

Of course James was angry that he'd he been beached on a desert island for three days with nothing but his wit, training, and some loose driftwood; but none of his anger with any of these things could match the infuriation with the bit of flotsam that had accompanied him on the journey. It had griped, complained, kicked, scratched, bitten and made a general fuss about the whole ordeal. This sort of behavior wasn't uncommon for a prisoner under his command—in fact, he was usually immune to such an attitude—but this thing was just completely out of control. She should understand her place, he reasoned, because in his mind, this was all her fault.

Where could the pesky slut have run off to now? She obviously couldn't have gone far. The island was, at his best estimate, five miles around. It almost didn't qualify as an island. It was more or less something of an enlarged sandbar, rearing its pathetic head out of the chilly blue Atlantic waters like a demon that hadn't grown its horns. The greenery was sparse, a few trees here and there, some ferns, a little moss. It was a clump of rock and seaweed threatening to be swallowed up by the surrounding ocean.

He sat on the beach, bare toes just over the tide line, the waves lapping up against his feet only to return again to the vast expanse of blue from which they had arrived. The pale white sand glittered and sparkled like a million microscopic diamonds. Too bad they were worthless, or he might have been able to bribe the wench into helping him find a way out of this secluded corner of hell. But now she was out of sight. Who knew, she could be sneaking up behind him with a knife, ready to kill him—or do worse things to him that he didn't even want to think about. Stupid whore.

Guess I'm going to have to find a way off this island by myself, James thought, picking up a handful of sand and letting it fall back down from between his fingers. Why, oh why did he have to be the one stuck on this island? Why couldn't it have been Sparrow, or Will? Even Gillette would have been better at dealing with the ruthless bitch. She'd be the death of his insanity. He just knew that if he survived this ordeal, he would never be the same again. In frustration, he rose to his feet, tore off his coat, and threw it to the ground angrily.

"Dear God," he roared, tossing his head back, "why have you forsaken me? I didn't do anything wrong! I've gone to church! I do right by my fellow man and serve justice to those who disobey the law. Please let this be a dream! Don't let me die here. Don't let me…"

By the time his thunderous rant was concluded, the Lieutenant was on the ground in dejection, sobbing miserably into the dirty, worn-out sleeve of his white blouse. James pounded a fist on the ground weakly. He was going under. This was it. He was done for, he would die without carrying on his family name, and worse, stranded on a deserted island with no one but a filthy street weasel to laugh at his corpse.

"Baw, get up, yeh pathetic excuse fer an Englishman," came a voice from above him. It contained a disgustingly thick, feminine drawl. James, amidst his sobbing, automatically recognized it.. The thief kicked him in the side of the abdomen— hard. By an act of reflex, he threw out his left hand and grabbed her ankle, giving it a sharp twist. She went toppling over backwards, hitting the sand with a thud, followed by a good string of profane words that a civilized woman would never dream of saying.

James, in his state of hysteria, quickly grabbed her shoulders and pressed them to the sand, crawling over her so that his body was above hers and his back parallel to the ground— it probably looked rather awkward from a third person's point of view and certainly would have felt that way to James if he were in a normal state of mental comprehension. The pirate squirmed under the much stronger man's weight but he maintained his grip on her. She spat in his face. He glared at her through an eye full of saliva.

"Pathetic? Pathetic?! You're the reason we're in this mess! If you hadn't escaped from jail, so that we wouldn't have had to deport you… I don't know why I just didn't hang you on the spot," he growled contemptibly.

"Yer too nice," she replied, surprisingly coquettish for the position she was in, lifting her hand and brushing her fingertips against his arm. He grabbed her face roughly, fingers pressing into her cheeks.

"You're a worthless scoundrel."

"And that means yer a worthless soldier," she muttered through fish-lips.

James was silent. He despised being insulted. She continued.

"Yer jus' a lieutenant. There's plenty o' others like you hopin' ta get promotions. They ain't gonna send out the whole Royal Navy just ta find yeh. Yer expendable." She laughed, touching a finger to his nose and pushing his face away. He released his grip on her and stomped off in a rage. He hadn't even bothered to pick up his coat. He wouldn't ever openly admit it, but it was true. He was going to be forgotten. No one would come for him. This would be the end of Lieutenant James Norrington!

No. He wouldn't let himself think that way. He was going to get off of this island somehow, even if it meant doing it alone. He walked about ten feet away, and then suddenly turned to face his island inmate. She was still sitting in the white sand, a smug expression plastered on her face, hand combing through her oily red hair. James stood there for a while in revolted contemplation of the situation at hand. He could walk away, or try to bribe the bilge rat to help him get off this abominable island forsaken by God. He considered the second option briefly.

No. Never would he let himself be in cahoots with a villain. That would be an act against the Law, the King, and all things Holy! Suddenly, there was a shot from behind him. James looked down to see a reddish-black splotch on his shirt, and the blood was spreading, soaking through the fabric, dripping onto the ground. He turned around and stared at the woman who was holding the aimed gun. None of this was making sense now. He slumped to the ground as an inky blackness surrounded him.