Title: Broken Faith
Rating: PG
Pairings:W/E, E/N, J/E, E/OC?
Warnings: Character deaths (in the past)
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. points at disney They're their's.

Elizabeth Turner carefully put on her dress. For the first time in four years, she was going out in public in a colored dress. People had talked of her devotion to her husband, though no one remarked on the oddity of going two years in mourning, a few months in half mourning, then back to the old black weeds. Elizabeth had been mourning a second death, that of Jack Sparrow. He had not died in the truest sense of the word, it was true, but he had become dead to her since the horrid morning where he had walked out of her house and out of her life after declairing something like love for her. She had cried when he left, but she assumed he would be back the next week, as he always was. One week had passed, then two, then three, and there was no sign of her captain. She was finally forced to accept that he had been in ernest, and had left her like every other man she'd known, the exception at the time being her father. And while Governor Swann had not physically left his daughter, he saw less and less of her, and left her at the mercy of the servants and aristocratic hawks.
Elizabeth found herself with few friends, mainly several other Naval widows who got together every few weeks to embroder another pillow and bewail the deaths of their husbands. The fact that for some of these women that had been twenty years ago seemed trivial. It had been that group that had been her salvation. She had looked carefully at each of the women one day and thought 'They'd have done as well to throw themselves into their husbands' graves.' It suddenly dawned on her that this was exactly what she was becoming. That must stop. That brought her to today.

Today that all changed. Today she put away those hateful black dresses. Mourning had seemed such a romantic thing four years ago, even two years ago. It seemed to show a sort of solidarity with her dead husband and lost friend. Now, with the help of the 'wailing widows' as Elizabeth called them, she had come to realize that neither of them were coming back. Both Will and Jack had been sources of comfort to her, sources of strength. Now, she had to find that on her own. The four years had changed her. She did not smile or laugh as readily as she once had. Nor did she giver herself so quickly or so fully to any human being. She became aloof. Most credited it to her undying love of her dead husband. She realized that it was just her lack of trust in people. She couldn't afford to have another man break her heart.

Elizabeth stepped out the front gate of her seaside cottage, basket in hand, and breathed in the sea air. It seemed to have changed. 'Maybe I'm just freer now.' she thought. Freedom. She seemed to always be imprisoned by something: her place in society; her marriage in a way, though that had been a willing imprisonment; her years in mourning; whatever it was she felt for Jack. Jack. Two years since the pirate had graced her with his presense and he still was at the front of her mind. Though she knew he was a man of his word, she had prayed every morning that she might see his distinctive figure walking down the road, and she went to sleep every evening disappointed.

"Mrs. Turner!" a voice called to her. Turning, she saw that the voice belonged to a young officer. Once she might have known who he was, but she had not been near the fort since the day of James Norrington's funeral, and she would not return.

"Hello." she said.

"I'm Lt. Thomas, ma'am. Captain Groves asked me to deliver this package to you." and he held out a thick envelope.

"Thank you." she replied, shifting her basket to the other arm to accomidate the package.

"Have a good day ma'am." the officer bowed to her and turned back toward the fort. Elizabeth turned back toward her house, but decided to sit in the garden overlooking the sea rather then at the tea table as she usually did. Maybe she was afraid it would conjer up to many unbidden memories.

Elizabeth turned the package over in her hands gently, the opened it. Out slipped a collection of papers, badges, and tassels. On top lay a letter written the day before.

Mrs. Turner

You may not recall who I am. I served as 1st Lt. on the Dauntless at the time of your husband's death. After that, I replaced the Commodore as captain of the Dauntless. James was a very good friend of mine, almost a brother, and I could not go through his things at the time and preform my job. As such, I had his trunk and things moved into his office, which was left alone for nearly two years. Recently, I realized that I had not gone through his personal things.

The enclosed items were left for you. Right before he died, James mentioned he should have liked to see you again. He felt awful for breaking his promise to Will to look after you. He was asking me to deliver something to you when he had a worse attack. He drifted in and out of conciousness the rest of the night. He never did tell me what I was to deliver to you, but I believe I may have found the items. That is what I forward to you.

There were very few things that I did not know about James, so it should not come as any great shock that I knew that he loved you very much. I am convinced that he loved you until the day he died. His last words were adressed to you, though he was in a sort of delirium at the time. He said "Elizabeth, please, I love you." Though he may have been in delirium, I have no doubt that he meant those words. I pray that these items bring you a little comfort and maybe a little understanding about the man who loved you enough to release you from an engagement so you could marry for love instead of doing that himself.

Cordially,
Captain Theodore Groves

Elizabeth whiped a tear from her cheek. Turning over Groves' letter, she began to look through the stack of items left to her. She had no idea why Norrington would leave her anything. It was true, he had not married and he had to sisters or a mother left. Perhaps he thought she would know best. As she gazed through the stack, she came across letters of commendation, orders, maps, notes, the sorts of things taht would be in a sea chest. The last item in the pile was a small book. Opening it, she discovered that it was his diary. It was a thick book, bound in leather, with the initials JN burned into the cover under the Navy seal.
Elizabeth carefully opened the book. The pages were starting to yellow, but the ink was as brilliant as if it were written yesterday. Flipping through the diary, she began to understand the man she thought she couldn't stand. She had thought him insufferable, unfeeling, out of touch with everything around him. He had started to prove her wrong on her 'grand adventure' when he rescued Will though he did not have to and released her from her engagement to him though he could just as easily married him. She found that within the pages of a small, leather-bound book, James Norrington had let himself go. He had recorded everything, good and bad. He mentioned their engagement, the many encounters with a certain pirate captain, the day she married Will.

'I believe that I finally know what it is to possess a heart' he wrote 'For surely mine was breaking as she walked down the aisle toward Will. They both smiled at each other as though they were the only people in the church. They are each other's worlds as she would have been mine, still is mine. For I love her still, though I should not. It is not my right. I forfited that right when I gave her to Will. She was the one thing in this life that was not orderly, not bound by Naval guidelines. Bound by honor, yes, but beneath that she was free. Had I been able to be free, she might have learned to love me as I love her. But perhaps it is for the best. I do not have to worry that she is sleepless at night worrying about my well being, whether I am alive or dead. I would never cause her pain. Yet to prevent her from feeling pain, I seem to have incurred it tenfold'

Elizabeth was crying now, suddenly aware that this man had loved her a great deal more then she had thought to give him credit for. After the wedding, the entries became more sparse, as though he did not like to dwell on anything. The last entry was from before the battle. After reading it, Elizabeth went to close the book. As she did, an envelope slipped out. Stooping to pick it up, she realized taht it was addressed to her. Her name was written shakily, as though this was a great effort. Yet even through that, the handwriting was unmistakably that of James Norrington.

Elizabeth carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of parchment that lay within. The handwriting was strained, but readable. Slowly, she realized that this was James's last letter. And it had been written to her. Not to Groves, who called him a brother, not to a family member or officer, to Elizabeth Turner. Carefully, she read it:

Mrs. Turner,

I must inform you of Will's death. I am truly sorry. He died in a duel with the captain of a privateer frigate. I fear I may have caused him slight distraction, which lead to his demise. For this, I hope you can someday forgive me. He thought of you to the last, Elizabeth. Before we engaged the privateer vessel, he approached me and said that he did not expect to survive, and that he had a sense of dread worse then when he was on the Isla de Muerta. He made me promise to care for you should he not return. I must admit that I fear I am in no condition to care for you. After Will fell, I engaged his attacker in a duel. He did not leave me unscarred. Groves will not tell me, but I know that I am dying. I hope to be able to see you one last time before I go, but if I do not, I leave you this letter. Never forget that you had the love and respect of both Will and myself. Although you did not marry me, Elizabeth, I never stopped loving you. It must seem strange to think that someone like myself could love you as deeply as someone like Mr. Turner, excuse me, Will, but it is in fact possible. When I am gone, I ask only that you remember me fondly, as you do not love me. I can ask for no more.

Regards,
James

As she read the letter, a figure slowly walked up the walkway towards the house. It paused just outside the fence, a hand resting on the post as the figure looked around, taking in the garden and it's occupent. Slowly, he walked until he stood behind her. Elizabeth herself was crying, tears threatening to fall on this precious page. The man read the letter quickly, then remarked: "Rather a lucky girl. Loved by not one, but three men. And loved the way that makes sound people insane."
Elizabeth turned slowly and gasped when she saw who the speaker was.