Forever to Seek Oblivion
The sun is an hour's time from rising. A man sits upon the battlements looking out to the horizon. His face filled with sorrow, eyes filled with remorse. Remorse for things he had left unsaid. Would she feel remorse? Remorse for not seeing the man under the uniform? He had never shown who he really was, that was his biggest regret in his last few minutes. He, Commodore James Norrington, had never shown her, the woman who he had been in love with since she was sixteen, who he truly was, always only showing the stone cold commander of the British navy in the Caribbean.
Or, perhaps, she would feel pity. Yes, he was sure it was that. She would feel pity, for a man who had loved her, because he had died. He did not need her pity. Suicide! He thought. Not a fitting end for a naval commander. But, perhaps a fitting end for a fool. A fool in love with a woman who would never love him back. His only comfort in his last hour, was the fact she could not stop him, because he knew, that if she found and asked him to not do what he was about to do, he knew that he could not deny her that. When she found out, he would be gone. The memories still haunt him. That, is why he must do this. He must stop the memories.
She was lovely. This he knew for sure. A true angel of heaven. An angel who was never meant to love him. She descended the stairs, a vision for his own eyes! He loves her every trait of personality, her wit, her charm, and her headstrong ideas! Ah, yes the headstrong ways would always be his favorite of her traits. Like the Turner boy, for example. She had pressured her father into letting her long time friend into coming to her sixteenth birthday. James move toward he, stunned by her simple beauty, subtle grace, her graceful poise. He moved to her without a thought. Then, suddenly as he had started to move a wonderful thought came to him. A dance! Of course! It would not be so odd for a navel captain to dance with the governor's daughter? He may not be suitor material ye, only being a captain, but a promotion to Commodore, and he would be able to court her. As he approached, more and more nervous by each second that passed, another man came between them. The dratted Turner boy! Turner had, once again, whisked her away, leaving a stony-faced and disappointed Captain Norrington behind.
His memory faded away to another, which was quite possibly the scariest moment of his life. He swore he could still feel his heart pounding, the blood rushing to his ears, the strong desire to yell! To scream! To call all of his men and order them to the ship. To cry, to weep like a child. They had taken her. Those bastards. Why the one he loved? He swore to himself he would save her. But of course, the brash Turner boy had gone off, just as James knew he would. But the Turner boy had done something unforgivable in James's eyes. He had stolen the fastest ship in the Caribbean. The ship that might have caught up with those bloody pirates, to save Elizabeth that much sooner.
He should have known. Twas the day of Sparrows hanging. Of course he had fallen for her faked swooning. He loved her, what else would he have done? Sparrow gets a day. Only that. The broken man had turned around to see the woman he loved kissing the whelp. Turner. Of course the first thing the boy did was compromise her honor. James Norrington, above all, was considered a gentleman. He wouldn't have even thought of kissing the girl until after they were married. But, alas, that was perhaps the problem. He would have not shown her that side of him until he was sure it was proper. But that didn't stop the jeolsey he felt when he saw them together. It should have been him up on the battlements, kissing his love breathless.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of footfalls. He opens his eyes to see the gun that will end his misery lying in his right hand. He looks up. Twas Elizabeth. He closes his eyes. She runs down the docks, to her love, William Turner. Turner, who was standing in the middle of the dock, turns around. The gun in James Norrington's hand is now pressed against his own temple. She, in excitement and love, throws her arms around the Turner boy.
A shot rings out. A body falls. A splash is heard.
A lone navel officer's hat floats, blown by the breeze, to the horizon, on the open sea, forever to seek oblivion.