The Promise of Redemption

Summary: Mid DMC, on the way to Isle las Cruces. Feeling rather guilty for her role in Norrington's ruin, Elizabeth makes a peace offering to the former Commodore. Norribeth.

A/N: I. So, Norribeth, like real Norribeth (ok I know I fudged James' character a little for my own designs in With This Ring) is a bit of a departure for me. I haven't written for this ship in a LONG time, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

II. This is set at what seems to be my absolute favorite setting for POTC fics, the trip from Tortuga to the Isle las Cruces. For my purposes, let us pretend Elizabeth did not reveal the Letters to Jack.

I.

Elizabeth Swann looked out at the glittering blue sea, drumming long fingers upon the blackened gunwale of the Pearl. A small smile curled her lips. A shy smile. Jack Sparrow was like no other man she'd ever encountered, and she couldn't help but feel a little smug that he found her desirable. Anything more than flirting, of course, was out of the question. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his attention a little.

James Norrington could not tear his eyes from Elizabeth for even a moment, it seemed. Not while he swabbed the deck, or while up in the rigging adjusting the sails. He'd spied her from all angles that day, it seemed, as he went about his duties aboard the Pearl.

And from all angles, she was still stunning as ever.

He'd been across the ship when he heard their little exchange, and Sparrow's barely veiled innuendo had turned his stomach. Lizzy this and Love that. The gall of that man! James clenched his fist, wishing he could slam it into Jack Sparrow's wide array of gold teeth.

When Elizabeth finally stood at the rail alone, James found he could not resist approaching her. Once he'd been a bastion of restraint and self-control, but discipline on his ship ran rather lax as of late. He leaned back on the gunwale beside her, deadpanning, "Once upon a time I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me." There was a distinct edge to his voice that he did not mean to let slip, but he had not had a drink in hours and everything was simply too raw not to let some resentment out.

Elizabeth frowned, straightening as she gave James a sidelong glance. He appeared quite the rogue now, with his beard and shaggy dark hair. Inexplicably his unkempt appearance rather appealed to her, though she would have died before she admitted she found him handsome. But something hard glinted in his green eyes that she'd never noticed before. His uniform was in tatters, thrashed by the hurricane that sank his ship and his crew, and then further sullied by a vagrant life on Tortuga. Guilt stabbed at her, sharp as a rapier to the heart. James Norrington would never have come to such ruin if she had not broken his heart so thoroughly, so publicly, that day on the Fort Charles battlements.

Elizabeth Swann did not like to feel guilt. Perhaps she had broken his heart, but it was not as though she'd known there was much of a heart to break before it was nearly done. She'd done what she'd felt was necessary. Was Will's life worth so little? Didn't she have the right to choose who she would have as her mate, regardless of her station or her father's position? So what if she had her doubts about Will now, and was so very relieved that their nuptials had been interrupted. At the time…at the time it had all seemed quite necessary.

Yes, Elizabeth did not like guilt at all. It in turn made her defensive, sharpening her tongue to a deadly point.

"That's funny, you certainly could have fooled me."

James did not expect that retort, she could tell by the indignant flash of his eyes. They were so very green. How had she never noticed before?

"I beg your pardon?"

Elizabeth canted her head, turning to face James with a rather coquettish air. "I said that I don't think I even knew that you loved me, James, until the moment you let me go. You certainly never told me. You never even courted me. You plotted with my father behind my back about my future with nary a word to me about it. I thought I would be just another fine thing for your collection of achievements."

James couldn't have appeared more stricken had she physically assaulted him. Still, after so long, she held his heart in her little palm. How thoughtlessly she crushed it in her fist. James would have given a great deal for a bottle of rum right then. Anything, even alcohol induced stupor, was better than this wretched pain that would not cease in his chest.

He rose to his full height, and somehow appeared much taller in the foreboding storm that gathered about his countenance. "How can you say that? I loved you. I treated you with kindness and respect and sought to bestow you with the highest honor—"

Elizabeth interjected, poking a finger into his broad chest. "Yes, you were the perfect gentleman. Polite and perfectly cold. But sometimes a lady likes a little passion, you know."

"Indeed?"

Before she could react James grabbed her up with an arm about her waist, and pressed his lips to hers in a torrid and punishing kiss. At first Elizabeth struggled, pounding small fists upon his shoulders. But James bent her over his arm with his ardor, his lips and tongue laying siege to her mouth and her sense of reason. Soon rather than trying to push him away, her hands snaked about his neck, pulling him closer. The most damning little moan escaped her, and James relented a little, his tongue stroking hers invitingly. When at last he pulled away with a shuddering gasp he did not taunt her for the victory, all his venom dried up. He gazed upon her with the most haunting look in his green eyes, and Elizabeth felt her heart twist in her chest.

She saw it all.

His love, of which he'd never dared speak to her. His pain, his loss, and his absolute ruin. All at her hands. And still, somehow, he loved her.

"Oh James," was the only thing she could bring herself to say, cupping his cheek in her small hand for the barest moment, before she turned on her heel and fled.