A/N: I probably should mention that this takes place after AWE, as Barbossa is back in the picture, and Norry is back on the ladder of success at the Royal Navy. Savvy:D
Commodore Norrington sat at his desk, the morning sun freshly rising behind him over the ocean, sending sparkling light into his cabin. In front of him, a wizened prostitute stood, arranging and rearranging her dilapidated shawl. Beside her, his nephew, Jamsie Norringtion, stood guiltily, his golden head hung, his hands folded, his once-impeccable clothes ripped and soiled.
Norrington the uncle silently cursed his much older brother for bringing this scum into the world and naming the baby fondly after his "baby brother." In fact, James had been about three when "Jamsie" was born, and more like a cousin than an uncle to the baby, but the difference in years seemed to grow as James took the path of a navyman and Jamsie took the path of a… idler. Now, he pressed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, and said with annoyance, "What happened?"
The prostitute spoke up first. "Well, I run a business, same as you, guv'nor, same as you?"
James doubted that the business ran "the same," but he nodded anyway.
Encouraged, she went on, "So I've got the right to turn anyone away that I care to, doan I? So when this fella comes up, pretty ragged-lookin, I says to myself, I says, 'Tabby, you doan wanna deal with a fella tha's lookin' pretty punch drunk an' it ain' bu' three in the mornin'.'"
The elder Norrington lowered his head and looked out of the upper lids of his eyes. It was too early for this. What in hell did she just say?
Gilette sidestepped and whispered in his ear, "She said that she didn't want to deal with someone who was looking pretty beaten up at only three o'clock in the morning. Sir."
"Did she really? Good God." He raised his tone. "Yes, well. Go on… Tabby."
"Thank ye, guv'nor. But he wouldn' take no fer an answer. Well, I am pretty irresistible." Tabby grinned, showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. James recoiled slightly. "So I had to show 'im a thing or two. Physically pain wise."
James turned his gaze to his nephew, who had taken a few subtle steps away from the woman.
"So then 'e says that his uncle's the righ' 'onorable Commodore Norrington, and tha' I'm gonna ge' in a lot of trouble fer this, ye see? So I got te take 'im up on 'is word, and I doan think 'e was expectin' tha', guv'nor." She grinned again, closed the gap between herself and Jamsie rather quickly, and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Plucky lit'le bug'er."
"Uncle? Are you going to get her into trouble?" This last part Jamsie said with a rather large emphasis.
"Somebody's going to 'get into trouble,' for sure…" James pushed back his chair, and stood. "Miss… Tabby, you may go." He slipped his hand into a purse on his desk, and pulled out six gold coins, holding them out. "For your trouble."
She stepped forward eagerly, and took the coins, stuffing them down the front of her dress, than took the Commodore's hand in both of hers and shook it vigorously. "Oh, thank ye guv'nor, thank ye. And anytime yer lookin' fer a good time, ye jes come te me, and I'll give ye half price, there ain' no better deal than tha', guv'nor."
Commodore Norrington withdrew his hand stiffly, and motioned for her to go. "Thank you, but I doubt I'll be taking you up on the offer." He muttered as she swept out.
"Now, Jamsie. Give me the name."
"Name, Uncle?" He was suddenly very shy.
"I know you know exactly what I'm talking about. You rarely stoop so low…"
"Katherine Winston." Jamsie muttered.
"Elizabeth's old handmaid?" James was suddenly furious. "How could you? It was awful enough getting you… no, buying you out of the other 'situations,' but if she talks to Elizabeth, no amount of gold…" he went around the desk and punched the young man firmly in the gut. "You will not be apologizing this time. I will. Hopefully this can still be remedied. Gilette, take him to his room, and do not let him get out."
Katherine slowly woke up from an extremely uncomfortable position. She was lying on her back, in her clothes from yesterday. It was way past her time to help the cook with the preparations for the night ahead. Why had no one awoken her?
Wait. Elizabeth's wedding was tonight. Or rather, the reception that she was invited to. She had asked for the day off in case she decided to go… She sat up, ignoring the slight shooting pain in her neck that came of sleeping on her back, and went to her wardrobe, opening it slightly, and staring at the deep red dress that Elizabeth had sent along with the invitation. 'That may have been my taste back then…' she thought, and decisively slammed the wardrobe door shut with her right arm.
She shivered as she felt the soft cloth of her dress drape over her forearm, and she curiously reached back with her left arm to see why her dress wasn't covering the back of her… oh God. And it all came rushing back.
Katherine sank heavily onto her bed, and lifted her now shaky hand to her forehead. Jamsie… and the other man! Who the hell was the other man that she had LAIN ON TOP OF! She absentmindedly brought a strand of her brown hair over her shoulder and began to run through it with both hands, her fingers untangling knots as she went. She remembered… the man with the strange hair threatening Jamsie with a gun, and Jamsie passing out. She remembered falling to the floor, and (Katherine blushed) the strange haired man sliding underneath her, and taking her hand to his stomach. And then she fell asleep…. Then how in hell did she get here?
In sudden urgency, Katherine took off the remains of the dress and threw it in the corner of the room, then stared at it as if it were a wild animal for a couple of minutes, panting. She sat on the bed in her corset and bloomers and brought her hair over her shoulders to act as a shield.
A vague plan in her mind to call the cook, Katherine stood up and walked toward the door of her room, reached out for the doorknob, and turned. The doorknob wouldn't turn with her hand. Focused now, and with a firmer grip on the knob, Katherine tried to turn it again. For the second time, it wouldn't turn with her. She knelt down to look through the keyhole. No one was on the tavern floor, and there was her flowerpot, right where it should be. No! Her flowerpot should be in the room with her, with the key nestled safely underneath it. If the flowerpot was outside, than the key was outside too, and she was… locked in?!?!
Katherine sat with her back against the door and circled her arms around her knees, feeling as if she were about to cry. How did so much go so wrong in so little time?
About to bang her head against the door, Katherine heard footsteps nearing. She put her eye against the keyhole once more, to see a strange man swaying and nearing her room, kneeling down and preparing to put his own eye against the keyhole. She quickly pulled back, and put her hand against the keyhole.
"Bloody hell?" She heard a scruffy voice say. Something hard encountered her hand, and she moved it away, as the key came through the keyhole.
"Damn." She whispered, and got up at lightning speed, looking about her room for a place to hide – anywhere to hide. She spotted her wardrobe, and slid open the door as quietly as she could, then placed herself between dresses on the closed side, not having time to reshut it before the door of her room opened.
Katherine stood as still as she could, listening as the syncopated footsteps entered her room and the stranger proclaimed "Bugger!", watching as light suddenly filled the shadows of her wardrobe through the open door.
Something thumped lightly on her bed, and then the footsteps started to go toward her door again. Katherine held her breath as they passed her wardrobe, she was so close…
Then the door slid open and a beringed hand covered her mouth.
Katherine followed her instinctive reaction, and bit.
"YEARGH!!"
"Oh dear God. How disgusting!" Katherine ran out of her wardrobe, ignoring the man who was cradling his hand to his chest and looking at her with murderous eyes, and tried hard not to gag. She poured herself some fresh water out of her drinking pitcher, gargled, and spit. "Haven't you ever heard of washing your hands?" She took another sip, gargled again, spit again.
"You little wench! You drew blood! Look at that!" The man held out his hand, which was red, but admittedly, not bleeding. Between sips of water, Katherine informed him of this fact.
"No, it's bleedin'!" He slapped his hand a few times. "What d'you call tha', eh?"
She looked closely at his hand. "Self-pity?"
He brought it close to his eyes, then scowled. "D'you have to be righ' abou' everythin'?" Then walked over to her bowl of fresh water and dipped his filthy hands in it, fluttering them about. "Got a towel?"
"You idiot! I use that for washing my hair!" Katherine looked down into the previously crystal clear water, now brown and muddy, probably with a few choice creatures floating around in it.
"Tha' can still be arranged…" He picked up the bowl of water, and tilted it at her face.
"STOP IT!!" Katherine screamed, and sent him "the look."
Like a boy chastised, the man set down the bowl of water, and hung his head.
"What. Do you. Want!" She said in the same exasperated tones that she had used last night.
A look of utter horror came into the man's face. "You're the demon woman!"
Katherine rolled her eyes, then noticed the beads and the pieces of bone hanging from the man's hair. "You're… you're the man I laid on last night!" She blushed immediately at this particular choice of identification.
The look of horror was replaced by a saucy grin, and the man removed his hat, bowing slightly. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, Miss…"
"Katherine. Winston. And don't you require a ship and crew to be a captain, Mr. Sparrow?" She laid heavily into the "Mr."
Jack gritted his teeth. "In the harbor."
"Right." Katherine replied sarcastically.
"Look. I'm jus' here because I need a 'suitable' escort to this damn wedding, and I won' be allowed in unless I have one."
"You. At a wedding."
"Friends o' mine. Very respec'oble people."
"You. At a wedding."
"Do I have to perform a little song and dance, love?"
"You. At a wedding."
"Why is'at so 'ard for you te believe?"
Katherine looked pointedly at the pieces of bone hanging from his hair.
"It's always the bones, ain' it…" Jack mumbled, fingering them lovingly. "'Lizbeth said she'd scrub me up a bit."
"Does 'Lizbeth' translate into 'Elizabeth?'"
"Translate? You insult my scent, my hair, my speech, I dunno why I'm askin' ye to this reception thingy in the firs' place…"
"Reception? For Elizabeth and Will Turner? Elizabeth being the one to 'scrub you up,' I presume…"
"Yeah."
"And just give me one reason as to why I should ever consider going with you, Mr. Jack Sparrow."
"Sure I will. I saved your arse las' nigh', so you can save mine tonigh'. Although yours is considerably…"
Katherine walked up to him and slapped his face, very aware of her predicament in just corset and bloomers, but she supposed it was just force of habit. "MR. Sparrow. Gentlemen NEVER speak to a lady like that. NEVER. I see I have more to clean that your outward appearance before tonight."
"Bu' 'Lizbeth…"
"Miss Elizabeth has more than enough on her mind that cleaning up a Godforsaken, filthy tongued and otherwise human being before tonight. I'll go with you only because of what you did last night, but then, we're quits Mr. Sparrow. Do you understand me?"
Katherine strode toward the door and called for a messenger to go off to the Swann's estate to let Miss Swann know that Miss Winston would be taking care of Mr. Sparrow for the afternoon.
"I knew I would regret the whole 'rescuing' thing…"
