Author's note: That's the longest chapter so far...I hope you'll enjoy. If you do please hit the review button. If you don't please hit the review button, too. I think you know what I'm getting at... :-)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"At nine. The fountain on the market square," she had whispered to him this afternoon, when she had casually passed him a cup of tea. Her innocent manner didn't let anyone suspect her of harbouring any conspiratorial plans and for a second he asked himself whether he had truly heard her utter those words.

Scandalous – that was what this proposition was, Norrington thought while he threw over a dark coat and briefly checked his appearance in the mirror. He was dressed in plain clothes so he wouldn't attract any attention. The powdered wig that decorum required him to wear together with his uniform had been carelessly discarded on the nightstand. He was glad he didn't have to wear it, because it was awfully uncomfortable. He would have never admitted this in public though.

If anyone ever found out about this…a secret meeting with a lady who wore the disguise of a boy…he shook his head as he strode out of the door.

A couple of minutes later he had arrived at the fountain, where Josephine was already waiting for him. She wore brown pants and a jacket. Her long hair was hidden away underneath a hat. There was nothing about her that made one suspect she was a woman, except maybe the soft features of her face, but those were also not uncommon among milk-faced boys at the brink of puberty.

"You came," she greeted him with a smile.

"I honestly still don't know why," he answered gruffly.

"Curiosity, perhaps?"

He shot her a dark glance, but unfortunately it missed its purpose, because she completely ignored it.

"Before we go, there are a few simple rules we have to agree on."

"Go where?" he interrupted her brusquely.

"I'm starving. I haven't had a decent meal all day. It's pretty hard to develop an appetite, when you're laced up in a corset all day which has apparently been devised to make women starve or choke them to death," Josephine informed him.

"I suppose that means you want to go to a tavern," Norrington concluded exasperatedly. That blasted woman was absolutely unbelievable! The cheek!

"Right, but before we go, we have to establish some rules…"

"This is ridiculous!" he rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but a slender hand grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat ere he could get away. The gesture did achieve the desired effect since he froze immediately. Both their eyes landed on the hand that persistently held on to his arm. Josephine immediately retrieved it.

"Please, don't go," she looked at him imploringly with her impossible huge blue eyes.

"Alright," he conceded after a moment of hesitation and mainly because he didn't have much to lose. The noose had already been lain around his neck.

"So the rules…," Norrington finally supplied.

"Oh, yes," she smilingly indicated the way with her out-stretched hand. They started walking. This time of the night, Port Royal was completely deserted. "You're to address me as Joe in public. Try to remember not to hold any doors for me or pull out chairs. It would seem suspicious, besides you wouldn't do so for any fellow men either, I suppose," Josephine gave him a pointed look.

"No," the hint of a smile was tugging at the corner's of his mouth.

"There's another thing. It doesn't strike me as very prudent to address you with your title...So what's…," to her big dismay she started to stutter insecurely. It was true that she showed a certain callousness when it came to other aspects of life, but she had never called a man by his first name, except for her father or brother. It was something intimate, reserved for family and lovers. Her cheeks reddened at the thought.

Norrington saw her blush. It was good to know there were something she still felt ashamed about, "It's James," there was a slight tremor in his voice.

They had finally arrived at the tavern. It was a tiny place near the harbour. The crowd there wasn't as bad as in Tortuga, for which probably the presence of Lord Beckett was to blame. Josephine briefly glanced around to take in their surroundings. This certainly wasn't a scenery she was used to. The customers mostly consisted of sailors and dockers – men with dirt under their nails and a tough appearance. The interior of the tavern was rather rustic, the tables looked like they never had been cleaned and so did the wooden chairs.

Nevertheless this was new territory for her, she bravely made her way to the bar. The bartender was a stout and bearded man, who greeted her with a nod, when he saw her approach.

"What can I do fer ya?" he asked with a rough voice.

"Two mugs of ail…," she started to order.

"You're not from around here, eh? England, right?" the bartender interrupted her, "We don't have no ail. It'll be rum or nothing, lad."

James could hardly suppress his amusement at the interchange and observed the scene standing next to her, with his back leant casually against the bar.

"Alright, then make it two mugs of rum and something to eat…anything…I'm starving."

"Aye, matey. Couldn't hurt if you put on a couple of pounds," the bartender laughed. "Or you'd be blown away by the next draft."

Josephine frowned disapprovingly, but wordlessly took the mugs of rum and saunter over to the table with her head held high. She slumped down on her chair in an unladylike manner and laxly rested her boots on an empty stool. Trying to act casually, she shoved one of the mugs in James's direction. Her next words however betrayed her nervousness.

"You do drink rum, right?" she asked insecurely.

A memory from a couple of weeks back flashed in his mind. A drunken haze, a bar fight, mud and the squealing of pigs. "Yes," he answered with is mouth set in a sour expression.

She sniffed her drink perspicuously, then finally decided to take a sip. Josephine had to muster all her will-power to not contort her face into some grimace. How could men drink that? The liquid was burning in her throat and one could practically taste the alcohol. It was nothing like the red wine which she was used to drinking at dinner.

She observed Norrington curiously as he took his first sip. He didn't hold his throat nor cough, there was not the slightest reaction on his face. She concluded that men obviously drank rum, ergo she'd better developed a liking for it. Josephine suspected that would turn out to be a highly challenging task.

A few minutes later a steaming plate of lamb stew was placed in front of her together with some slices of breath and a spoon. She was ravenous by now so she didn't care much for etiquette and started wolfing down the food enthusiastically. Josephine was surprised to find out, when she was already halfway through the plate -because that was how long her taste buds needed to actually start working thanks to the speed with which she ate - that the food was really good.

"So, what is the point and purpose of this charade?" James decided to speak up, since they were out of hearing range.

His question briefly put a damper on her appetite. She let the spoon drop. "It's not a charade," Josephine hissed at him. This was something she had set her heart upon and she took it quite personally that he obviously didn't think she was serious about it. Josephine took a calming breath, mainly to be able to keep her voice from raising a pitch in anger.

"This is not a charade," she repeated. "It might have occurred to you that I just recently arrived from London. I didn't come on my own accord. My dear father has passed away, so I had to come…"

"I'm sorry for your loss. I didn't mean to be cruel," his expression fell.

She dismissed his remark with a wave of her hand. "My parents were kind and understanding people, quite the opposite of my brother. He's the only heir…," her words implied that which didn't need to be said. Lord Beckett had automatically inherited the family fortune and she, being a woman, was now depended from his good will. "We've never had a special bond. I think he was glad we've barely seen each other since he left home and I suppose he will be all too happy to quickly marry me off to the first suitable candidate available…but that's beside the point," she sighed. The words poured out of her and she wasn't able to stop them from coming. They simply had been bottled up to long and now used the situation in their favour. Perhaps the rum was to blame, too.

"I'm not complaining about my fate in particularly, just about being pushed around, always being told what to do, how to behave…I'm forced to idly stand by while my brother commits deeds I morally condemn," her small fists balled in frustration. "Oh, how I sometimes which I were a man, so I could strike him in the face, but I'm not. I'm just his sister…a mere woman," she had whispered the last words bitterly.

"I'd lie if I said I didn't feel any sympathy for you, but you're forgetting your place…," he gave her a stern look.

"So you're saying I should just get myself together and lead a miserable life, content myself with embroidering hankies and bearing some man's children, is that it?" Josephine's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I would have expressed it in a less dramatic way, but basically yes," he calmly reached for his mug to take a drink.

"Fine, I didn't want to bring this up, but since we've been talking about knowing one's place….what exactly were your orders when it came to Captain Jack Sparrow? I don't think you were ordered to engage in a wild-goose chase for three whole years!"

Norrington slammed the mug on the table so that a considerable amount of rum spilled over the rim. Though he was furious, he managed surprisingly well to keep his voice down. "That's a completely different thing!" he leaned forward in his chair and glared at her. "This man came gallivanting in and took my life, my career…"

"He didn't take anything from you. It was always your decision to make," Josephine mirrored his posture, but with the difference that she had by now calmed down completely.

"Maybe I can't be trusted with making those choices," Norrington muttered bitterly. "After all it got me in this grotesque situation, where I'm sitting in a tavern arguing with a woman whose brother is unflinchingly sending me on a suicide mission."

"You don't have to go," she said as if it was as simple as that. "You do have a choice."

"I'm an Admiral of the Royal Navy, Miss Beckett," he shook his head. It showed how little she knew about the world of men.

"Yes, but this is not treason. Do you think my brother is an honourable man? Do you honestly believe this is the will of the crown? England is far, far away. He's acting out of his own accord, don't you see that?"

"Still there is no way…"

"Actually…," he looked at her in surprise. "See, I haven't been planning on prolonging my stay. There's a passage to Tortuga tomorrow evening…"

"And you want me to come with you," Norrington stated matter-of-factly. "Why?"

"For protection," Josephine replied and surprised herself with her own honesty. Originally she had not intended telling him. As a matter of fact she had planned to somehow manipulate him into accompanying her, but there was something about him that compelled her to tell him the truth. Maybe she wasn't as skilled at scheming as she thought.

He let out a humourless laugh, but then his expression suddenly grew serious. "I don't know, even if I wanted to I can't…"

"You won't have to decide till tomorrow evening," Josephine told him matter-of-factly, but deep down she really wished he would agree. It occurred to her only now that she wasn't solely asking him to come along for her own benefit, she didn't want him to get hurt either, which he certainly would, if he relied on her brother's sense of honour.

Her slender fingers tapped nervously against the side of the tin mug which was by now empty. The rum had been necessary to gather enough courage to make such a keen proposition. Her eyes rested on him expectantly as if she could tell by studying his body language which decision he would take. Norrington's forehead was wrinkled in a pensive frown. His gaze had a faraway expression to it and made her curious what he was thinking about at the moment.

It occurred to her only now that he was good-looking man, at least when he was wearing neither that ridiculous uniform nor that silly wig. She couldn't quite but it in words. Even though he was not the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, there was something about his face that compelled you to look twice. Maybe it was his eyes, the way those dark, elegant eyebrows curved above them or perhaps his sensual lips. Expressive…that was the word she had been looking for. A face like that had to smile, had to show its owner's emotions to the whole wide word, instead of being condemned to be always set in a melancholic expression as it had been ever since she had made his acquaintance. She had never seen him smile, understandable since his situation wasn't very pleasant at present, but she started to wonder what it would look like if he actually did.

The silence between them stretched out for too long and she grew uncomfortable. The fact that she had an appointment down at the harbour provided her with a sound excuse to start talking again.

"Well, never you mind, do as you please, but we have to leave now. I have to meet the captain on whose ship I intend to book the passage down at the docks," she got up from her chair.

"Are you coming?" Josephine asked a little bit louder, when he didn't react immediately.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was lost in thoughts."

"So, it seemed," Josephine gave him a quick smile, before she went over to the bar to clear her debts.

Seconds later they were out on the streets again. As they got closer to the harbour the air became increasingly humid and heavy to the point that a dense mist engulfed the way before them. The regular pitter-patter of their steps resounded eerily from the facades of the houses left and right of the way. The atmosphere had something positively ghostly to it.

"I wouldn't want to walk these streets alone," Josephine admitted, while a shiver ran down her back.

"I had you down for a rather courageous woman, Miss Beckett and now it turns out you're afraid of ghosts," there was a considerable amount of amusement in Norrington's voice. It almost sounded as if he was teasing her. The frankness of their previous conversation had left him with a certain feeling of familiarity.

"I'm not afraid of ghosts," he could see her eyes sparkle underneath the rim of her hat. "I hardly believe in them anymore."

"You should be afraid, because they are real."

"And I had you down for a sensible man who doesn't believe in any cock-and-bull stories," Josephine told him belatedly. "Maybe you spent too many years on board of a ship."

"You've never been on board of a ship except for the crossing from England, a fact which will hardly allow you to call yourself well-travelled, so I believe it's my judgment we should be trusting," he told her without any spite.

They fell silent again and arrived at their destination a couple of minutes later. At least in this part of the town there was some life even at this late an hour. There was a hand full of sailors who were loading a ship with food and other supplies. Their calls and the cadence of their vivid conversation echoed through the silent night. Down by the peer waited a solitary figure, presumable the captain with whom Josephine had arranged a meeting yesterday. She immediately felt relieved upon seeing him, because inwardly the young woman had doubted he would even bother to come.

"Would you mind waiting here, while I settle things with the captain?" she asked purely out of formality. She didn't expect him to make any objections so she had already turned to walk towards the waiting man, when she heard him speak.

"Yes, actually I do mind, thank you. I'd rather come with you." Something about this situation inspired his deepest mistrust. Maybe it was the dark figure lurking at the end of the peer or the whole set up in general. Underneath his coat his hand reached for his sword..

Josephine just shrugged her shoulder, but didn't object.

As they got closer the mere silhouette of the person standing there became more and more detailed. It turned out to be a white bearded man, who had a slight resemblance with Father Christmas, thanks to the merry sparkle in his eye and his stout figure. It suddenly dawned on him why Josephine had picked this man. He seemed to be completely harmless. His hand dropped from the sword.

"So you finally decided to turn up, lad. Even brought a friend," the man greeted them.

"Good evening to you, too, Captain Woodruf," Josephine replied.

"Didn't forget about me money, eh matey?"

"I'd never dare to," the young woman chuckled and scratched the back of her head in a boyish way. She certainly had studied her part well.

"There is slight change of plan though…It'll be two passages instead of one. My friend James here hasn't decided yet whether he wants to tag along or not, but you'll be getting your money no matter what…In fact, you'll get it now."

Norrington had already opened his mouth to protest, but a look from her silenced him.

"Fine by me," Captain Woodruf answered and spit in his hand ere he held it out to Josephine.

She knew she had to shake it in order to seal the deal, but it took her quite some effort to do it. In her head a tiny voice told her that lady didn't spit and much less take dirty hands, but she did it anyway. Afterwards Josephine wordlessly produced the require gold coins. She was rather proud of herself, since everything had been taken care of now.