Pirates of the Caribbean: Bloody Water
Disclaimer: I have no rights to the Pirates of the Caribbean movies or theme park rides or anything else that Disney profits off of. I'm just a poor college student who's bored over her winter break.
Rating: M
Chapter 2: Old Friends
James Norrington stood on board his little sailboat, scrutinizing his pride and joy. Once, the sailboat had been decaying, its paint cracked and its sails full of holes. Now, she was painted a crisp blue, and the sails were clean, white and whole. The worn rotting deck had been replaced with rich, finished planks of wood.
He spent most of his off-duty hours down at the docks in Port Royal, even on days not so nice as this one. It was a warm, humid day, made bearable by the salty breeze whipping around the island. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he'd discarded his wig. For two hours now he'd been working on his sailboat, alone as usual, too busy to notice or care who passed by.
Until he heard the voice.
"Well, well, if it isn't James Norrington."
James knew that brogue. He spun around, hoping his eyes would prove his ears false. On the damp, salt-stained dock stood a short, pretty woman with dark blonde hair and a cheeky grin on her face. She leaned on her forearms, perched on the side of his boat. James found himself at a loss for words - but it was not because the woman was pretty.
For a moment, it was quiet between the two of them. The sun warmed James' shoulders, and the breeze picked up again, ruffling his loose white shirt. The wind blew the woman's hair into her face. Somewhere up above them, a seagull cried.
"Got to say, darling, I much preferred ye with the beard," she said, breaking the silence.
He glared. She was unfazed.
"Ah, well," she shrugged, hints of her cheeky grin still lingering on her lips. "At least ye're not wearing a wig."
And though he was still most unpleasantly surprised to see her, James now regained his composure. "Captain Cecily O'Connor," he murmured ruefully. "Why am I not really all that surprised?"
"Heard ye made Commodore. Again," Cecily smirked. "Kudos."
"Thank you," he returned. "Although I doubt your congratulations are sincere."
"Ah, ye say that like I don't want ye to be happy."
"Well, you are here."
"Most inconvenient, I'll bet. What with it bein' in public and all."
James sighed and returned to his boat. He stared hard at the wooden plank he'd been engaged in replacing mere minutes ago, his lips tight with irritation.
"What do you want, Cecily?"
Of all the people who could have come down to the docks that afternoon, Captain O'Connor was the most likely to ruin his day.
"I think ye know, seein' as ye're the reason I want it."
"Come again?"
Cecily pushed herself off the side of the sailboat and stood straight, her hand resting on her hip. She squinted against the sun, her lips twitching into a small unpleasant grin. "Sold yer soul fer a Navy position. Can't say I'm too surprised. Although, I had been givin' ye the benefit o' the doubt."
James was suddenly uncomfortably hot under the shining sun.
"I mean, really Norrington," Cecily continued. "I know ye loved yer job and all, but come on. All the shite ye'll be puttin' up with fer that man? Sea ain't the sea no more, ye know? Not even for ye. Maybe especially not for ye."
"I don't know what you mean," he returned coldly.
"I know what ye did," Cecily announced, looking him hard in the eye.
He swallowed, feeling his control over the situation slipping away. Briefly, he wondered if he'd had any to begin with. Still, James never wavered as he stared back at the pirate woman. "I haven't done anything."
"Ye stole the heart o' Davy Jones and handed it over to Lord Cutler Beckett to get yer old life back," Cecily returned, her green eyes boring into his.
"Don't be ridiculous," he replied, still holding his own in their little staring contest. "There's no such thing."
"Don't lie to me, James."
"Don't lie to you? Hmm. Forgive me, but I'm suddenly astounded by your hypocrisy."
"I don't know what ye mean by that."
"I'm sure you don't. Because you're such an honest woman, after all."
"Aye. And ye're a perfectly dishonest Navy officer. Why do ye lie to me, James? It breaks my heart."
"What heart?"
"The tiny black one beatin' under me ribs."
He smirked.
"I know ye're responsible for all this, James," she told him, cheeky grin leaving her face. "I know ye joined that pirate crew out o' Tortuga, and I know ye somehow got out o' that shipwreck alive. And then somehow, ye got yer job back with the Navy, and I'm inclined to believe that the price fer yer old life was a high one, aye? Ye handed something over to the head of the East India Company in exchange for yer job back – something valuable, that no one else could have given him. And I'm inclined to believe that li'l something was the heart of Davy Jones."
It was true. All of it was true. He had to wonder where she got her information, how she had learned so much about his recent adventures. It was unsettling, to be told so much about himself. But he wasn't going to let on.
"Is that what I've done?" he returned dryly, his eyes never leaving hers. "You will forgive me if I don't throw up my hands and confess straight away, won't you?"
She smirked. "Ye never could lie well, could ye?"
He smirked back. "Your story is complete fantasy. You couldn't possibly have learned it from a reliable source. And to be frank, I hardly think you're in any position to be telling me all about myself, Cecily. In fact, I believe it was always you who so adamantly refused to learn anything about me, or to let me learn anything about you. When it comes right down to it, we're practically strangers. We know nothing about one another. And you certainly know nothing about where I've been or what I've done."
Cecily leaned closer to him, quirking her eyebrow. "Well, I know ye better than most, don't I, darling?" she returned, grinning coquettishly.
James lost their stare off. He rolled his eyes heavenward and looked away from her, crossing his arms in front of him. "I did a lot of things in Tortuga I'm not proud of," he replied, refusing to look at her.
"And yet the one thing ye've done that ye should be the most ashamed of was done right here, in Port Royal."
"You won't give it up, will you?"
"I told ye, I know what ye did."
"Has it occurred to you yet that you've completely split from reality in all its forms?"
He turned his back on her and returned to work on his sailboat.
She grabbed hold of the sailboat and jumped, hefting herself over the side and onboard his little boat. James started at the loud thump, spinning back around in surprise.
She marched directly up to him and poked a finger in his chest. "I know damn well what ye've done."
He swallowed again.
"Ye know it too," she pushed. "And ye hate yerself for it."
"Undoubtedly."
She ignored the sarcasm. "Is this really the life ye thought ye were getting back? Day after day, scraping and bowing be'ore a business man and a high class pouf, who uses dishonest means to worm his way into yer king's favor? Who takes over yer precious Navy and uses it to his own ends? This is the man that ye, a distinguished commodore of the royal Navy, are now going to play lapdog to? Ye hate playin' lapdog."
He dropped his eyes to the deck for only a moment, but it was a moment too long. "Ye hate yerself," she said again. "Ye wanted this job back, but not for all its money and power and distinction. Ye wanted to play hero. Ye wanted to be the noble Navy man again. Tell me, James, exactly what is so noble and honorable about the place ye've found yerself in?"
He stared at her. She stared back. The seconds ticked by as they stared silently, standing still under the clear blue sky.
James sighed. "What do you want from me?" he demanded.
"I want yer help," she replied simply. "I want ye to make right on what ye've done wrong. I want ye to help me get the heart back from Beckett so we can destroy it, and the ocean can be the place it used to be."
"No," James replied, and returned to his sailboat.
Her words were under his skin now, and try as he might he could not deny their accuracy. But he'd be damned if he'd help her. She was a pirate. A nasty one. And his days as a no account in Tortuga were over.
But Cecily did not take no for an answer. Ever. His back stiffened as he listened to the thud of her boots on the deck, coming up behind him. He turned to glower at her.
Then suddenly he tumbled to the floor of his skiff, courtesy of a well placed push to the chest. The damp of the deck soaked into his shirt as Cecily planted her knee in his ribs, her face two inches from his. "Yes," she replied calmly – far too calmly.
James snorted. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"
Her cheeky grin made a short reappearance. "Is that a yes?"
"Hardly."
She cocked an eyebrow, leaning closer to his face. He rolled his eyes.
"Ye ever want to be free again?" she asked him.
His jaw tightened. He looked away.
"Ye're not gonna find that freedom on this sailboat, James. Ye're gonna have to go and get it back. Ye're gonna have to fight fer it. Ye're gonna have to get out from under Beckett's thumb."
"Ah, yes, I see it now. And the only way to do that is to go under your thumb instead?"
The grin was back, once again. The cheeky, presumptuous, yet flirtatious grin that James wished he didn't know so well. "Hardly, James. This is yer choice, darling. This is yer life yer takin' back. Ye're gonna do this fer ye."
"Oh, really?" Norrington replied skeptically, gesturing to the knee planted in his chest. Cecily merely smiled wider.
"Ye just needed a li'l convincin' mate. That's what I'm givin' ye. A li'l push in the right direction. Otherwise, ye'd just go and hide behind this pretty little sailboat of yers, and never take any risks at all. Ye're lucky ye have me, darling."
"Yet I remain unconvinced," he returned sarcastically. "So you want me to help you, but you want me to help you for me."
"Not at all, darling. I want ye to help me fer me. Fer me ocean. Ye want to help me fer ye. Ye're not happy, James. And ye know this is the way out."
James glared at the pirate woman on top of him. He hated her. He hated her cheeky grin, he hated her presumption, he hated her entire lifestyle... and most importantly, he hated that she was right.
Lord Cutler Beckett was not an honorable man. He didn't care about right and wrong. He didn't care about the innocent people the Navy was meant to protect, and he didn't care about the king he'd sworn to serve.
And James Norrington did care about those things. He cared a lot.
Cecily grinned down at him, jostling him from his thoughts. "This remind ye of somethin'? Cause I'm getting' these feelings, darling."
James instantly pushed her off him and stood abruptly. Cecily didn't even bother to get off the deck. She just sat there and laughed, further incensing him.
"Fine," he snapped at her. "You got me, all right? I'm not happy."
"Of course ye aren't, darling. I told ye I knew what I was talkin' about."
"Stop calling me darling. You know I don't like it."
"I don't know about that, darling," Cecily whispered seductively, leaning forward and letting her arm hang over her bent knee. "Ye didn't seem to mind so much when we were riding that old mattress."
This was going to be a very difficult partnership if she continued rubbing that little mistake in his face. "And no mattress talk," Norrington said sternly.
Cecily laughed again. "All right, Norrington," she said, getting to her feet. "Ye got it. No sex references, and no sex. Strictly business."
"What business? I haven't even agreed to help you yet!"
"But ye're about to."
Silence.
James rolled his eyes. "Fine," he admitted grudgingly. "I'm agreeing to work with you."
"Knew it."
"But not to help you, understand. I don't trust Beckett."
"Of course ye don't."
"He doesn't care about anything but his company. He's interested in the bottom line: power and profit. And I am bloody tired of my Navy being used as his own personal enforcement squad. That is not what we were assembled to do."
She smirked. "Spoken like a true hero."
He ignored the mocking. "When this is over, given half the chance, I will not hesitate to hang you."
Her smirk broadened. "I shudder."
"I am doing this to remove Beckett from power, not to restore your perfect pirate's life. I am doing this for the better interest of the crown. For the people. And for the king."
She stepped closer to him. "Of course," she drawled, her cheeky grin as wide as it could go. "God save the King."
Nestled in a walled off cove on the opposite end of the city, where the shadows turned both the water and the air slightly colder and the light was considerably dim in comparison to the bright, blinding sunshine of the docks, the Bloody Sunrise had weighed anchor and rolled her red sails up tight. The ship's captain had returned from her business ashore, and her crew had just finished hauling her longboat back up on deck.
It was impossible to miss or mistake the captain's companion. He was a tall man with an elegant posture and a long straight nose. More importantly, he wore a stiff white wig and a finely pressed blue jacket, identifying him at once as an officer of the British Navy.
Cecily had begged the man not to adorn the wig and coat before he followed her to her vessel. Sadyl, he'd insisted - most likely because he knew she hadn't wanted him to. As it was, she knew at once her crew was not happy. The suspicious looks directed Norrington's way and the skeptical glares being darted in her direction spelled that out loud and clear.
"Sandra," she said gruffly. "I want ye, Keith, and Marjorie in me office, now."
Sandra nodded her acquiescence, but her shoulders were stiff and her face tight. Cecily watched her first mate walk away, feeling a pang of guilt. She knew what needed to be done, she knew none of her crew approved, and even though she intended to carry on in spite of that, it still bothered her.
No captain wanted a mutiny on their hands.
Cecily opened the heavy wooden door with its curly black metalwork and led Norrington inside her dimly lit office. "Have a seat," she said, gesturing to one of the many mismatched chairs scattered around her large desk.
James waited until she'd seated herself behind the desk. Then he surveyed the office disdainfully, and chose the chair farthest away from her. He very pointedly took his seat.
Cecily threw her head back and laughed.
"Now, now, James, darling," she half snorted. "Ye can sit as far away as ye want, but it don't change how close ye once got."
"Oh, do shut up," Norrington snapped.
The two sat in silence as they waited for Cecily's chosen crewmen. Cecily pretended to be preoccupied with the parchments burying her desktop. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Norrington glancing around her office, his long, dignified nose crumpled with disapproval. It was all she could do to bite back another laugh. Cecily settled for a wry smirk hidden behind a sheet of parchment.
She supposed she couldn't blame the commodore for his disapproval. Her office was a far cry from his, she was sure. The walls were hung with odd little bits of art she'd picked up on her voyages – disfigured masks, twisted wood carvings, strange collages of feathers and bones and who knew what else. Her desk was not only littered with papers, but had also provided shelter for an odd assortment of trinkets, each one more bizarre and non-functional as the next. In one corner imposed a large Japanese screen, white and framed in black, with little flowers calligraphied on the delicate material. There was a rich red rug on the floor, obviously expensive – Cecily had stolen it from some Frenchman's quarters after raiding his ship – and her grin grew wider to see Norrington eye the discolored spots on the rug with concern. Red only hid blood until it browned, she thought ruefully. Then it was as obvious on red as any other color.
Her office door creaked open and Sandra entered, Keith and Marjorie tow. Marjorie, the ship's boatswain, greatly acknowledged to be Sandra's successor, was a tall woman with a large frame, curly dark hair and green-blue eyes. As she entered, her turquoise eyes fell on the commodore with disapproval, and Cecily felt the other woman's sense of betrayal. She could stand disapproval from any crewmember, she decided, other than Marjorie and Sandra.
"Sit down, sit down," Cecily said, gesturing at the chairs. They all took their seats. Cecily returned the parchment she'd been pretending to read back to the pile and propped her feet up on the desktop. "So, I guess ye all know the good commodore here. Say hello to James Norrington."
No one made a move to greet him. Keith, however, turned to his captain and said bitterly, "So this is why we came to Port Royal."
"Yep, darling," Cecily returned, determined to hold her temper as long as she could. "As ye can see, the map don't lie."
"So it works then?" he asked, still more bitterly.
"Aye, that it do, darling, that it do."
Norrington looked confused. Cecily intended to keep him that way.
"That still don't explain why ye were lookin' fer this in the first place," Marjorie spat, inclining her head toward Norrington.
The atmosphere in the room was tense. That annoyed her. She was sure Norrington could see her crew was displeased with her. It was something he didn't need to see. And so, Cecily's patience cracked.
"This," Cecily growled. "Happens to be the only inside link we've got to Lord Beckett. He's very kindly agreed to help us with our mission, and I think ye better be referrin' to him as something other than 'this,' do I make meself clear?"
"As mud," Sandra snapped. "Nothing ye've done has made any sense at all for the past… I don't even know how long! First ye start rambling on about old wives' tales, than ye go out and buy that blasted map, and next thing we know, the bloody Commodore's on our pirate ship! What the bloody hell are ye doin', Cecily?"
"I told ye," Cecily snarled. "We're goin' after Lord Beckett. We're takin' back our ocean."
"Ah yes, right," Keith said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I remember now. Takin' back the ocean. By stealin' the heart of Davy Jones from Lord Beckett, because that's how he managed to capture all those famous pirates."
"Ye don't want to listen to me? Fine! Maybe ye'll listen to him!" Cecily shouted, gesturing at James.
He started and said nothing. Cecily rolled her eyes. "Well, go on, Norrington, fess up! What did ye do to get yer job back?"
Norrington stared at the planks of Cecily's office floor. "I met up with Jack Sparrow in Tortuga," he mumbled. "And joined the ranks of the Pearl."
Everyone hushed up.
"And ye all thought the man at the Faithful Bride was a liar," Cecily smirked. "I'm ashamed o' ye."
Her comment did nothing to shame Keith. "What then?" he demanded.
"Well… we went to an island where Sparrow claimed the heart of Davy Jones was buried… and then we dug up this chest…."
Norrington didn't seem to want to say anything else, but much to Cecily's amusement, Marjorie barked, "Well? What was in the chest?"
Norrington looked at the six pirates in front of him with grave sincerity. "A human heart. Still beating."
Keith snorted. "And a dose of fairy dust to go with it, I'd imagine."
Norrington glared at him.
Despite the quartermaster's sarcasm, Cecily saw Sandra and Marjorie's stern expressions fading, and quickly reclaimed her patience. She nodded at Norrington encouragingly. "Well, go on. What'd ye do with that heart?"
"Well, there wasn't much time to do anything with it at first," Norrington replied snottily. "Davy Jones' crew showed up on the island and started to attack."
"His crew?" Keith asked skeptically.
"Yes, that's right, that's what I said," Norrington snapped, finally losing his patience - which Cecily found quite funny, now that her own patience had returned. "Davy Jones' crew attacked. And Jack Sparrow attempted to hide the heart from them in a bloody jar of dirt. Imbecile."
"Surely ye've heard the legend, Norrington," Cecily interrupted. "Davy Jones can't step on land more than once every ten years. Perhaps the dirt wasn't quite as imbecilic as ye thought."
"No, it was," Norrington replied, his dislike of Captain Sparrow showing. "I stole the heart from the jar and ran off with it and the chest. While Jones' crew chased after me, the rest of Sparrow's crew ran away, Sparrow included. I tossed the chest at the crew members so they'd stop chasing me. It worked, and they allowed me to escape. What they didn't know is that I had hidden the heart inside my jacket. Once the pirates left the island, I rowed out to sea in a dinghy, waited for the Navy to pick me up and demanded to be taken to Lord Beckett. I knew he'd been looking for the heart."
He paused in his narrative. "And?" Cecily prompted impatiently. "Did they take ye to him?"
"Yes, but not willingly. I met with the man and offered him the heart in exchange for my old job and my old life back."
"And he agreed," Cecily finished for him. "And here ye are."
Norrington stared evenly at her. "Here I am."
Silence fell as the other five pirates in the room absorbed the commodore's tale. Cecily watched her crewmen with a confident smirk she didn't quite feel. Finally, her tense shoulders relaxed as the quiet crew members began to look regretful.
"Cecily, I'm sorry…." Keith started, but she interrupted him.
"Don't apologize. Ye were just lookin' out fer yer crew and yer ship. I understand that - it's yer job. But I've told ye before, there's such a thing as oversteppin' yer bounds just one too many times. Get me?"
"Aye, Cap'n."
She meant it. As infuriated as his second-guessing made her, Cecily valued Keith's input. He kept her honest – well, as honest as she could hope to be. He made sure her decisions affected everyone positively, not just herself. Without Keith… well, she'd become her own worst nightmare. She'd become the very man she was planning to destroy.
"Well," Norrington commented dryly from the corner. "Now that that's all cleared up…"
Cecily smirked at Norrington. "I'm afraid I need just a tad more information from ye."
Norrington sighed. "I expected so."
"Do ye have any idea where Lord Beckett is?"
"But Cap'n," Marjorie interrupted. "I thought…."
A look from the captain silenced her. "Well, Norrington?"
Norrington sighed and shook his head. "Believe me, if I did, I'd tell you, but I just don't know."
Cecily scrutinized him, checking for tell-tale signs of lies. It was rather frightening that she knew his tell-tale signs - she hadn't realized how much she knew about James Norrington before now, nor how much of that knowledge she'd retained. It was unsettling and she didn't care for it. But she pushed that displeasure aside and used the knowledge to her advantage... quickly concluding that he was actually telling the truth.
Knock her over with a bloody feather.
"How does he travel?" she asked.
Norrington frowned at her. "On a ship," he returned smartly, as though he thought Cecily was asking a stupid question.
"I know that, ye stupid git," she snapped. Nothing got under her skin like a smartass answer to a serious question. "I meant, does he travel with a convoy, alone, or what? How many troops does he bring with him? Ye know what I'm sayin', Norrington?"
Norrington glared at her. Apparently he didn't take so well to smart replies himself. "He travels in a convoy of about seven ships. Each ship has the standard number of soldiers and sailors on board."
Cecily frowned. "I see, seven ships." The number distressed her, but she tried not let it show. "Well, Norrington, I hate to ask, since questions seem to make ye so prickly and all, but how many men do ye know that aren't too happy with Lord Beckett either?"
He started at the question. A suspicious look crossed his face. "Oh, no," Norrington shook his head. "No. I am not going to commandeer any ships of the fleet, and I'm not going to sail off alongside a pirate ship to fight a battle I won't win. You can just forget about that right now."
"That's where ye're wrong, Norrington," Cecily half growled. "Ye agreed to this! Ye said ye wanted…!"
"That was before I realized exactly what you had planned!" the commodore exploded. "You actually expect to sail headlong into battle, against Beckett and his seven ships? You must be insane!"
"Ye got any better ideas?"
"Any idea would be better than this! The man doesn't just outnumber us. He's also in possession of the bloody sea! He can turn the entire ocean against us!"
"Aye, well, that part is a bit of a conundrum," she agreed. "But as far as outnumbering us goes… well, there are ways to fix that."
"Like what? Build a pirate fleet?"
She grinned.
His jaw dropped. He shook his head incredulously. "We are not building a pirate fleet!"
"Speak for yerself."
"Do you even know six other captains crazy and stupid enough to go along with this?"
Cecily shrugged, smirking again. "Well… there's ye."
"I am not…!"
"And as far as pirates go, I've got a few connections."
"Oh, how bloody comforting!"
"And I suspect ye aren't the only Navy man pissed about becoming the East India Company's security task force."
"Tell me you do not expect…!"
"Aye, I most certainly do!" she interrupted fiercely. "Ye've got yerself a ship, don't ye Norrington? And ye got to have at least one other captain friend who hates Beckett the way ye do! As for crewmen, I'll bet ye know bloody well which ones will fight this fight and which ones won't. Ye can help us here, James. Ye can get me at the very least one ship – yer ship. And if ye can get me two, well… I'll kiss ye."
He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Well, if that isn't the opposite of incentive…"
"Ye wound me," she cut him off, her tone oozing sarcasm. "Ye going to hold up yer end o' the deal or not?"
"Are you offering to let me walk? Because in that case…"
"Ye'll what? Run back to yer master and play lapdog fer the rest o' yer days?"
He glared at her, but fell silent.
She looked him dead in the eye. "Ye know damn well ye're coming with me. Kicking and screaming, maybe, but ye'll sail right into battle alongside this ship. Ye know, no matter what ye say, that ye want to be a part o' this battle.
"Oh, no, I most certainly do not!"
"Oh, aye, ye most certainly do!" Cecily returned. "And ye know why, Norrington? 'Cause if ye let me go off and kill Beckett and take back that heart while ye stay here and do nothing, ye'll never forgive yerself. Ye're not the sort to wait fer freedom to find ye. Ye want to go out and fight fer yer freedom. And ye're gonna."
Norrington glowered at the pirate woman, but said nothing. It was his silence that let Cecily know she'd won.
"There is one man," he spoke finally, his tone hesitant. "A captain. He was promoted shortly after my… hiatus from duty. When he was a lieutenant, we worked closely together and became friends. His name is Theodore Groves. He too does not… entirely approve of Lord Beckett's… policies."
"And would he be willing to help?" Cecily asked.
"I believe he would, yes. His ship, along with my Dauntless, should be a good start to the fleet I assume you'll be trying to build."
"And between the two of ye, do ye have enough men more loyal to ye than Beckett in order to man yer ships?"
"Most of the men who serve on my ship worked with me prior to my… short break from service."
"I reiterate," Cecily growled. "Do ye have enough men between the two of ye more loyal to ye than Beckett in order to man yer ships?"
"The majority of men on my ship are also not exactly happy with Lord Beckett's… way of running things. As for the ones who remain loyal to Beckett, I know a few men not on my ship who feel as I do and who would be happy to take their places."
"And how do ye plan to get rid of the men who do remain loyal to Beckett?"
"Well," Norrington replied, looking straight at her with a hint of smile about his lips. "I was hoping you might be of some service in that department."
A grin crossed Cecily's face as well. "Why, I'd be more than happy to oblige."
"Not kill them, mind you," Norrington was quick to add, and quite sternly at that.
Cecily rolled her eyes. "Oh, ye suck the fun right out o' everything," she complained.
Norrington shrugged.
Cecily became serious again. "And this Groves man. He has enough men to man his ship as well?"
"I can't say," Norrington replied. "You'll have to ask him that."
"Fine," Cecily agreed. "Ye and him will meet back here tonight. Ye will come alone, understand? I don't want to see no body guards or anybody; I don't care how loyal ye think they are. Just ye and Groves, get me? Meet me here tonight so I can talk to the man."
"That is acceptable," Norrington returned rather stiffly.
"And loosen up," Cecily ordered.
"I'd prefer to keep this arrangement as business like as possible. I see no need for us to be overly friendly."
"Funny. Ye sang a different tune during all the hot sex," Cecily grinned viciously.
Norrington stood up. "Good day, Captain O'Connor," he said, making a quick exit. Cecily laughed at his retreating back.
"Oh, Norrington! Tonight, remember? Be there!" she called after him.
"As you wish," he replied before leaving entirely.
She smirked after him, watching him disappear out her office door.
This was going to be dangerous, yes. Possibly fatal, and yet it was definitely going to be fun.
