This is not happening, Dinah told herself firmly. She closed her eyes
tightly and counted slowly. When I open my eyes, she thought, I'll find
that I hit my head on something and am coming to just now, and that there
is no handsome Commodore and no weak knees.
Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes again there was nothing but the ceiling of her room in the tavern. She was laying on her back on the bed, trying over and over again to make it all go away, because things like this were just not supposed to happen. These were fairy stories; things made up by young girls that never really came true. Especially not for women like her, pirates and vagabonds of ill breeding.
And yet, here she was in a new green dress, knowing perfectly well that only a short time before Norrington had stood in the doorway and spoken with her.
Her mother had said that when she first saw her father, her knees had gone weak. Dinah had never understood or believed it. It was a figure of speech, after all, a way for her mother to say that she'd found her father handsome without using the exact words.
But now Dinah knew that she'd been wrong—it was literal. She'd never thought that a man could induce such feelings in her. When she thought of the men in her life, her father was the only one she could remember having any affection towards. Even the few young pirates-to-be in Tortuga that she'd cavorted with had been nothing more than a bit of fun and adolescent rebellion, if such a thing even existed in Tortuga. And when she thought of her last encounter with a man, with Stanton, who had had romantic (or at least lustful) feelings towards her, she would've thought that any talk of actual weak-knees and pounding hearts was completely ridiculous. Love, she would've said, was fond feelings and mutual respect, perhaps, not this rush of feeling that everyone claimed it was.
But now she knew. When she thought back to the sword fight on the ship, she realized she'd had it then, though perhaps not as much, and it had disguised itself as the adrenaline rush of a fight. And when she'd seen him in the street, her heart had begun to pound against her chest, but she'd attributed it to fear and shock at being discovered so quickly. But after what had happened in that very room, she could no longer deny it. Commodore Norrington brought about feelings that she had thought were a myth, and even in that ridiculous powdered wig.
"This cannot be happening," Dinah told the ceiling with a groan. "I don't believe in things like this! Perhaps," she mused, "it's the rum after all."
But it was no use, and she knew it, all in all as pointless as blaming gravity for falling in love.
***
James had made up his mind to just let her go long before, during their conversation in her bedroom. She stirred up too much—what? He couldn't name it. Taking the time to capture her (perhaps touch her hands and wrists as he handcuffed her, how divine it would be) and then to hang her would be possibly more than he could bear. So he would quit while he was ahead and put the whole incident behind him.
But forgetting about Dinah was proving more difficult than expected.
He undressed that evening and got into bed, the lady pirate still dominating his thoughts. He was rather cross about it, but as he put out the candles he decided that he'd just get it out of his system now, and by morning she would be forgotten. And so he allowed himself to drift off to sleep thinking about her, and imagining her in different situations, usually standing by his side.
Was it any surprise that he dreamt of her that night?
She was on the small, desolate island where he had found Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow abandoned a year and a half before. Unlike Elizabeth, she wasn't in her underclothes; she was dressed to the nines in an expensive-looking gown. He realized later that it was the same dress Elizabeth had been wearing when he had proposed to her.
Dinah had been standing on the beach staring out to sea. She was barefoot and her long hair was blowing out behind her. There had been a bottle of rum clutched in one of her hands. James had been walking towards her, wearing his Commodore's uniform and even the wig. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, because there were no ships in sight.
He had called out her name and she had turned and looked at him, raising the rum bottle to her lips.
"What are you doing here?" she had asked him, as if it wasn't obvious.
"I've come to rescue you," he told her.
She had turned back towards the ocean, smiling. "Who said I wanted to be rescued?" He had no answer and had stood next to her, watching the waves crashing on the sand. After a moment, she had said, "why are you really here, Commodore?"
And then he had said a very shocking thing indeed. "Because I am in love with you."
She had turned to face him, and he had leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. They had stood staring at each other, and she had lifted her free hand and placed it softly on his shoulder, one finger touching the bare skin on his neck.
"I don't love you," she had said coldly.
"Because... because you're a pirate, and I'm a commodore," he had finished lamely.
Then, she had leaned forward and put her lips close to his ear and whispered, "your status has nothing to do with it, you fool. Did you honestly think I cared for you? As if any woman could love a man like you. Didn't Elizabeth leave you for a blacksmith and a pirate? Haven't you figured it out yet, Commodore?" And she had leaned back and laughed, lifting the rum bottle again and turning away from him to walk back down the beach.
He awoke drenched in cold sweat just as the sun was coming over the horizon. His first thought was that it had been a ridiculous dream because Dinah couldn't possibly know about what had happened between him and Elizabeth. No one knew about that except for Elizabeth, Will, Governor Swann and, unfortunately, Jack Sparrow. There had been a few rumors around the town, gossip that the Commodore and Miss Swann were engaged, but once her marriage to Will had been announced everyone stopped and decided they must've been wrong, and it had never happened.
Yes, he thought, it was ridiculous because Dinah didn't know about Elizabeth. Then he realized that his first thought should've been that it was ridiculous because he wasn't in love with Dinah. And yet, that had never even crossed his mind.
"I can't be," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It isn't possible. She's a pirate."
But he knew that somehow, he was. And he knew that he was not going to be able to get the dream—the nightmare—out of his head. The thought that Dinah hated him was terrible. She had said nothing to indicate whether it was true or not the day before, but he didn't want to have to wonder—and he was sure he would be wondering for the rest of his life.
He stood and began dressing hurriedly, mind already made up.
There was nothing else to do, he decided, but go and ask her himself.
Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes again there was nothing but the ceiling of her room in the tavern. She was laying on her back on the bed, trying over and over again to make it all go away, because things like this were just not supposed to happen. These were fairy stories; things made up by young girls that never really came true. Especially not for women like her, pirates and vagabonds of ill breeding.
And yet, here she was in a new green dress, knowing perfectly well that only a short time before Norrington had stood in the doorway and spoken with her.
Her mother had said that when she first saw her father, her knees had gone weak. Dinah had never understood or believed it. It was a figure of speech, after all, a way for her mother to say that she'd found her father handsome without using the exact words.
But now Dinah knew that she'd been wrong—it was literal. She'd never thought that a man could induce such feelings in her. When she thought of the men in her life, her father was the only one she could remember having any affection towards. Even the few young pirates-to-be in Tortuga that she'd cavorted with had been nothing more than a bit of fun and adolescent rebellion, if such a thing even existed in Tortuga. And when she thought of her last encounter with a man, with Stanton, who had had romantic (or at least lustful) feelings towards her, she would've thought that any talk of actual weak-knees and pounding hearts was completely ridiculous. Love, she would've said, was fond feelings and mutual respect, perhaps, not this rush of feeling that everyone claimed it was.
But now she knew. When she thought back to the sword fight on the ship, she realized she'd had it then, though perhaps not as much, and it had disguised itself as the adrenaline rush of a fight. And when she'd seen him in the street, her heart had begun to pound against her chest, but she'd attributed it to fear and shock at being discovered so quickly. But after what had happened in that very room, she could no longer deny it. Commodore Norrington brought about feelings that she had thought were a myth, and even in that ridiculous powdered wig.
"This cannot be happening," Dinah told the ceiling with a groan. "I don't believe in things like this! Perhaps," she mused, "it's the rum after all."
But it was no use, and she knew it, all in all as pointless as blaming gravity for falling in love.
***
James had made up his mind to just let her go long before, during their conversation in her bedroom. She stirred up too much—what? He couldn't name it. Taking the time to capture her (perhaps touch her hands and wrists as he handcuffed her, how divine it would be) and then to hang her would be possibly more than he could bear. So he would quit while he was ahead and put the whole incident behind him.
But forgetting about Dinah was proving more difficult than expected.
He undressed that evening and got into bed, the lady pirate still dominating his thoughts. He was rather cross about it, but as he put out the candles he decided that he'd just get it out of his system now, and by morning she would be forgotten. And so he allowed himself to drift off to sleep thinking about her, and imagining her in different situations, usually standing by his side.
Was it any surprise that he dreamt of her that night?
She was on the small, desolate island where he had found Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow abandoned a year and a half before. Unlike Elizabeth, she wasn't in her underclothes; she was dressed to the nines in an expensive-looking gown. He realized later that it was the same dress Elizabeth had been wearing when he had proposed to her.
Dinah had been standing on the beach staring out to sea. She was barefoot and her long hair was blowing out behind her. There had been a bottle of rum clutched in one of her hands. James had been walking towards her, wearing his Commodore's uniform and even the wig. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, because there were no ships in sight.
He had called out her name and she had turned and looked at him, raising the rum bottle to her lips.
"What are you doing here?" she had asked him, as if it wasn't obvious.
"I've come to rescue you," he told her.
She had turned back towards the ocean, smiling. "Who said I wanted to be rescued?" He had no answer and had stood next to her, watching the waves crashing on the sand. After a moment, she had said, "why are you really here, Commodore?"
And then he had said a very shocking thing indeed. "Because I am in love with you."
She had turned to face him, and he had leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. They had stood staring at each other, and she had lifted her free hand and placed it softly on his shoulder, one finger touching the bare skin on his neck.
"I don't love you," she had said coldly.
"Because... because you're a pirate, and I'm a commodore," he had finished lamely.
Then, she had leaned forward and put her lips close to his ear and whispered, "your status has nothing to do with it, you fool. Did you honestly think I cared for you? As if any woman could love a man like you. Didn't Elizabeth leave you for a blacksmith and a pirate? Haven't you figured it out yet, Commodore?" And she had leaned back and laughed, lifting the rum bottle again and turning away from him to walk back down the beach.
He awoke drenched in cold sweat just as the sun was coming over the horizon. His first thought was that it had been a ridiculous dream because Dinah couldn't possibly know about what had happened between him and Elizabeth. No one knew about that except for Elizabeth, Will, Governor Swann and, unfortunately, Jack Sparrow. There had been a few rumors around the town, gossip that the Commodore and Miss Swann were engaged, but once her marriage to Will had been announced everyone stopped and decided they must've been wrong, and it had never happened.
Yes, he thought, it was ridiculous because Dinah didn't know about Elizabeth. Then he realized that his first thought should've been that it was ridiculous because he wasn't in love with Dinah. And yet, that had never even crossed his mind.
"I can't be," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It isn't possible. She's a pirate."
But he knew that somehow, he was. And he knew that he was not going to be able to get the dream—the nightmare—out of his head. The thought that Dinah hated him was terrible. She had said nothing to indicate whether it was true or not the day before, but he didn't want to have to wonder—and he was sure he would be wondering for the rest of his life.
He stood and began dressing hurriedly, mind already made up.
There was nothing else to do, he decided, but go and ask her himself.