Disclaimer: The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise does not belong to me and I am just borrowing the characters to tell a story I wrote. I am making no profit from this venture, nor mean disrespect to the real owners of these characters.

Note: This story is written to fit in after the first film, and ignores all continuity post the first movie (mostly because I saw the second movie and refused to pay to watch the others at the cinema after the cheeky buggers ended it on a ruddy cliff-hanger! I paid to see a whole film, not to be left hanging.

Legacy

The sun glistened off dappled wavelets, a fair wind blew them along and he had the wooden planks of a proper deck solid beneath his feet. It was a little glimpse of Heaven for the redoubtable Commodore James Norrington and Lieutenant Gillette was shocked to see the man close his eyes, inhale deeply of the sea air and smile. It was a rare sight to behold upon the face of his stern commanding officer and one he'd despaired of ever seeing again after the unfortunate business with Miss Swann. He should have known that being at sea would ease the Commodore's heartache.

The escort mission was going well ; the weather was clement, the merchantship was making good time, the horizon was miraculously pirate-free and the Commodore… Gillette didn't finish his thought as he turned to ask the Commodore about their bearing and instead had to dart forward to catch the man as he swooned dramatically. Groves and an Able Seaman carried the fainted officer below as a shaken Gillette took the helm.

The ship's surgeon was an able old salt called Hammond and he directed the two men, allowing them to deposit their burden on the bunk before sending them hurrying back above deck. He had no use for lollygaggers in his domain.

The smelling salts did the trick of bringing the Commodore back out of his faint, although the man swayed alarmingly as he took to his feet and Hamish had a bad feeling that this was more than just the heat getting to him. He pushed the Commodore firmly back to sit on the bunk and felt the horrible rasp of his laboured breathing rattling under the palm he'd lain on the man's chest. Hamish stopped just short of actual insubordination as he nagged his superior into stripping down to his smallclothes and performed a battery of tests to confirm his worst fear. As Commodore Norrington redressed himself Hammond poured them both a measure of brandy. 'Drink this, Sir. It'll put some colour back in yer cheeks.'

'It's the white plague, I assume?' He asked in the long-cultivated drawl of an officer's languid tones. They could have been discussing shipboard supplies of boot-blacking for all the emotion in the man's voice.

'Aye, it's consumption Sir.' Hamish paused and looked at the pale, thin face of the Commodore, realising with a start that now he was actually paying attention the man was visibly emaciated, even with a heavy uniform to disguise his loss of condition. 'Yer condition doesn't look too tidy, Sir. I cannae say how badly off ye really are, but I doubt ye'll live to see an Admiral's braid decorating yer sleeve.'

The Commodore didn't reply, merely continuing to drink his brandy in small sips. The sore throat and bloody cough had made him guess at what he'd caught, the later loss of appetite and subsequent wasting of the flesh from his bones had knocked the half-hearted denial out of his head. Whilst it was shocking to hear his surgeon's coarse Scottish tones laying out his prospects to bluntly he'd sensed his time shortening over the past year or so anyway. It had been the impetus to gain his promotion so quickly and to propose to the dear Miss Swann on the very same day, regardless of the vulgarity. 'I understand. I'd thank you not to mention this to anyone but myself, though.'

At the feverish gleam in his patient's eyes Hamish understood, the lad had always lived to serve and protect his country and fellow citizens and he would not let the fever change that. Norrington had been the one, several year back, who'd tactfully had certain of Hamish's documents tidied away to prevent him from being discharged on grounds of age. Hamish had never asked about the matter and had been shocked at the usually inflexible and stiff-necked man's tactful reinterpretation of the guidelines. He'd assumed it was because the young officer had seen that Hamish still had years of faithful service left within him and that the man was eager to continue his service. Under the circumstances Hamish had to acknowledge a kindred spirit. 'Fine Sir, but ye will follow my advice and take care o' yerself please?' His accent thickened in concern as he spoke.

Norrington stared at the old surgeon from where he stood by the door. Something softened in his determined military mien and he gave a curt nod.

The rest of their journey passed without any unusual events and on his return to Port Royal James made his way to the Governor's residence. As it turned out, Governor Swann was otherwise occupied, meeting with several of the local landowners, so the duty of entertaining the Commodore fell to the man's daughter, something Elizabeth was more than happy to do.

James frowned bemusedly at the embroidery in Elizabeth's lap, was she intent on putting together what his housekeeper, Mrs Dower, termed a 'hope chest'? Elizabeth threw up her hands in frustration at the needlework, then noticed her old friend's expression. 'If you think my sewing is poor then I should like to see you make a better job of it!' She huffed, her demeanour that of a petulant child sulking at a favoured older brother.

James shrugged and easily caught the Swiss frame his one-time fiancée threw at him in a fit of pique. He flipped the frame over and over, swiftly analysing the nature of the stitches and noticing that Elizabeth had marked the letters E and W intertwining as the motif. For one hopeless moment James wished it were his own initial there in place of Turner's, but dismissed the thought as unworthy. No honourable man could hold the woman he loved to himself when it was clear she loved and was loved by another. The satin stitch motif was simple enough and years of mending wounds and sails had left him with neat, even stitching. With a small flourish he removed the completed handkerchief from the frame and presented it to Miss Swann with a playful bow. She accepted it was a fond smile.

They chatted amiably over tea for a little longer before Elizabeth began to twist the newly-completed hankie in her fine-boned hands. Jams recognised the nervous gesture and sighed inwardly, outwardly stifling a painful cough. 'What is troubling you, Miss Swann?'

Elizabeth's normal frown at his formal mode of address flickered briefly across her face. 'Will and I intend to be wed in two months' time. We would both be honoured if you would attend to ceremony and festivities,'

James choked and snatched up his own handkerchief from his pocket to stifle his hacking cough and pained attempts to regain his breath. Elizabeth hurried over, patting his back and flittering around him. James balled the stained cloth while the pretty young gentlewoman turned to pour him a glass of water.

'I understand its irregular.' Elizabeth continued, once her friend had regained his breath and a few sips of water had helped him regain his composure. 'But we both owe you so much - you've been my companion ever since we came here, even though I was a boisterous child; you gained Will an apprenticeship with the finest craftsman in the Carribes and you….' She trailed off, seeing how pale James had become and realising that the last reason might not be one an entirely tactful lady might mention under the circumstances.

'I stepped aside and have enabled this wedding, I know, 'Lizabeth.' He said exhaustedly, lapsing into using an old, improper nickname from when she'd been but a child.

'It would be a great slight to fail to acknowledge such a noble deed, though it cost you dear.' Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on his arm, remembering the rumours that had flown about the town after James had returned empty-handed, having lost both his fiancée and a notorious pirate. Only the excellence of his overall reputation had kept him from a full court-martial, Elizabeth had heard tell from her father, 'Releasing me from our engagement was a true act of affection and sacrifice. Thank-you.'

James cleared his throat and stood hastily. 'I should be honoured to attend your nuptials. Please send the details of the event over to my residence. I'm afraid I have neglected my post long enough, so by your leave I shall return to my duties.' Elizabeth nodded understandingly, recognising his pain and he bowed politely and left. Odd that it had taken his breaking their engagement and making a professional ass of himself for her to see through his stiff manners and regain her old affection for James the man.

Lieutenant Gillette looked up at the brisk steps of his commander as he arrived and hurried into his office. The Commodore turned, his face tight with some suppressed emotion. 'Find me trace of a pirate to capture, Lieutenant!'

Gillette could only nod, dumbstruck and get on with finding a pirate ship to tackle.