Odessea
(The Odyssey)

Chapter 1: Charon

It's a small world, Norrington mused. Such a small world.

For all the ambition that he sacrificed and betrayed others for, it simply whistled away upon his death.

Cutler Beckett was seated in a longboat, floating alongside him. His gaze was in a perpetual state of shock, staring straight ahead, heedless of his surroundings. Mercer was also visible in the gloom, and he noticed a good number of men that served under him before he defected to the other side.

The irony was painfully evident. Everyone was equal when they died.

A single oil lamp was his only light source, and he did not know where he was headed. Beyond just lay an endless shroud of mist and a constant dark sky. He floated in the longboat for what seemed like an eternity, his mind blank and unthinking, and only until Beckett and the other men in bluecoats floated along did he manage to regain some of his consciousness.

It was not to say that Norrington had completely gathered his thoughts together. He was struggling to remember what had happened in the final thresholds of his life – did it happen, or did it not? – and all that occurred even before that... his double crossing, his defection, his promotion, his ruin...

He was so engulfed in his thoughts that he did not hear his name being called.

William Turner had attempted to anchor the Flying Dutchman as close to Norrington's boat as possible. After a good amount of shouting aided by his crewmen, Will, deciding that the former Commodore must have been struck deaf by sheer stupidity, sighed in exasperation, and proceeded to drop into the longboat.

Thump.

The longboat rocked, and Norrington looked up in alarm.

"Mr. Turner!"

Will tilted his head briefly in response. "Commodore."

"... This is the underworld, is it not?"

Will nodded and said nothing. It was much better for the dead to come to their own conclusions rather than have one forced upon them, with the little experience he had gained with talking to them so far.

"Then I must be dead," Norrington muttered to himself. As his mind began to piece itself together, he suddenly realized-

"Are you dead, Mr. Turner?" Almost immediately, his thoughts turned towards Elizabeth, and he began to panic. She would be devastated if Turner is dead, oh God, she won't live with herself if she-

"No."

There was a pause. Norrington was clearly confused.

"I'm cursed, Norrington. Cursed to sail these seas for ten years, cursed to ferry souls to the other side."

Norrington felt a sudden wave of incredible sympathy for his rival. He could see how much pain that would have wrought Elizabeth, the anguish beneath Will's solemn face... What was worse than unrequited love, Norrington sadly reflected, was the separation of lovers. Nevertheless, Norrington still could not shake off the disdain he had for those without order. It was built into him, and he could never quite understand... which was perhaps his downfall, he argued with himself. Pirates, he thought – a little too contemptuously, perhaps – but he said nothing.

"I-" Will interrupted the silence. "My father – I just... My father killed you. He didn't know what he was doing. The Dutchman – and there was this bet and he - I'm sorry." Will flatly stated, knowing that Norrington would not accept his apology.

"Your bandanna looks just as ghastly as that feathered hat you wore at Port Royal."

It was now Will's turn to look confused. "What?"

"For goodness' sake, Mr. Turner, my death was delivered to me long before your father had anything to do with it." Norrington's annoyance moved into one of quiet contemplation. "My death was by my own hand."

The number of longboats and souls were gradually increasing. There was an air of tension between the two men, and Norrington had thought he felt it; neither quite forgiving the sins they laid upon each other.

"... Work for me."

Norrington looked up in surprise. Will had extended a hand towards him. It was an offer of opportunity, an offer of a second chance at life.

"Sail under my command," Will said. "Be my first mate. In ten years we can go back to where we were... the land of the living. You can start anew."

Norrington looked amused. "Are you that afraid of death, Mr. Turner? I have accepted my death, completely and utterly. There is no longer any purpose for me."

"There is Elizabeth."

Trust Will to dangle the carrot in front of the unsuspecting hare. What do you mean to accomplish with this, Mr. Turner? he thought. However, all Norrington did was smile. "Elizabeth is extraordinarily content to be with you," he said politely. "I play no part in her life."

Will promptly leaned forward and hit Norrington's head. The blow tipped off his hat and fell into the water.

"Are you always this self absorbed, Norrington?" Will snapped. "This isn't about what she means to you."

Norrington was silent. He turned away, focusing on his hat that had begun to sink.

"She cares for you. Any fool can see that." Will took off his bandanna and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "She's lost everyone in this battle..." This time, Will made no attempt to conceal his dejection. He shifted his gaze, choosing to look at the longboats behind the Dutchman. Norrington stayed respectfully silent, with both men refusing to look at each other.

"Work for me," Will repeated.

It was only then Norrington noticed the scar on Will's chest.

Entwined, but never joined...

"Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Turner?"

"... Very much so."

"After all that we've been through, we've never been on the same side. Our destinies seem to have been constantly in conflict, fighting over one thing or another."

"And do you want it to end this way?" Will asked. "The two of us, forever at odds?"

He was pushing Will away, Norrington realized, just as he did to Elizabeth, when she offered him a chance to escape. Would one never learn from his mistakes? Norrington thought. An accumulation of irony, oversights and blindness paved the way to his destiny, and he was determined to remedy it on his own. Death was only the first step to absolution, and if he did find a way to reach up to the land above, then so be it. He could not face the world until he had redeemed himself from the sins he had wrought.

"I will chart my own path, Mr. Turner. Besides," Norrington smiled ruefully upon reflection of his own faults, "I was never one to serve under another."

Will wanted to argue with him, but he remained silent. There was no disagreement of words with Norrington; he would never sway, not unless he was under the influence of someone he loved. Will chose not to express his thoughts directly, and for a fleeting moment he knew Norrington must have had done the same. He realized how estranged they were from each other, their persons bound only by a single strand: Elizabeth.

"Have you ever thought why Elizabeth never chose you?"

"I would imagine it to be a certain personality that I lacked... seeing as she much prefers the life of a pirate."

Will sighed. Norrington's single-minded attitude often got the worse of his character. He never could understand the consequences that were given to him, but once he realized that it was beyond his control, he would accept it mindlessly. "No, Norrington. You were always thinking about yourself. You ambition drove everyone away, thinking it was a noble sacrifice on your part."

"My ambition may have gotten the worst of me, but I never used it to directly harm Elizabeth." Norrington's words grew biting; a weak attempt in hiding his anger on such quick judgment of his character.

"Do you remember the first time you proposed to her?" Will shot back.

"Certainly."

"What did you say?"

Norrington racked his head. The memories were still broken, sifting in a long river... "This promotion throws into sharp relief-"

He promptly stopped himself. Norrington realized his error, and found he knew less of himself than before.

"Well," Will continued, turning away from Norrington, and prepared to board the Dutchman. "If you choose your own path, the lord of the dead can help you on your journey."

"The lord of the dead," Norrington was greatly bemused by the title. "I would think being the lord of the dead would be to govern the dead, not bring them back to life."

"He can be... persuaded."

"How so?"

Will briefly turned back, a forlorn smile upon his lips. "You'll see."

Norrington had not noticed the shimmer of movement beneath Will's chest. "How will I find this... lord of the dead?"

Will had already materialized aboard the Dutchman, and was climbing on the rope ladder. He swung around and faced Norrington for the last time.

"I will lead you to him."

End notes: It was extremely difficult writing action sequences in an environment where nothing was essentially happening, and I've never really had a gauge for Will's character... So my apologies if he's saying things that he shouldn't be saying. I'm also looking for a beta reader, and I'm soliciting opinions more than anything else. I do ask for very detailed opinions, so do email me if you're interested.

Also, still promoting The Cove, a POTC fanfic archive. Link's in my profile!