James had promised the Governor to stay in his mansion for the evening. After the guests had left and the ballroom cleaned, he changed into his nightclothes and washed his face. He removed his wig, placing it atop its stand. He lay quietly in the bed, positioning himself atop the covers as opposed to beneath them. He always had tended to become too warm in the night anyway.

He shifted his weight numerous times over the course of an hour or so, attempting wildly to simply close his eyes and to drift into a silent slumber. He discovered that impossible as he raised himself to his feet and covered himself with a robe. He lit a candle and lurked down the hall into the kitchen.

He set to prepare a warm cup of tea and found the kettle to be atop the stove already, water still blistering. He twisted his head to find the door of the balcony already opened, the governor, wearing similar attire, relaxed in a chair.

"Tea bags are in the left cupboard, James," his voice cracked in the silence. James smiled to himself as he stirred sugar into the mug.

He stepped into the now cool air, sat beside the Governor, and they each looked out upon the docks.

"Quite the celebration, don't you agree?" questioned Mr. Swann. His gaze was unchanging. James opened his mouth to reply, however, the Governor stopped him, also turning his wigless head to observe him.

"I saw you with our latest young woman, Miss Catherine Bouvier." James chuckled a bit as he lowered and shook his head.

"I'm one to welcome, eh?" He raised his head once more. "Although, I was with Miss Roessler and Lady Ellington and-"

"Oh you merely escorted the others, James. You were with Miss Bouvier, however," cut the Governor once more. --

James Norrington awoke with a startle, the Governor, along with the array of servants, were bustling wildly throughout the house, telegrams of Port Royal's news flying through the air. The messengers were speaking as though they would forget just what they had to deliver if they weren't to get it out quickly. He then heard the Sparrow's name.

He jolted from the bed, ignoring all traces of formality as he dashed passed his newly pressed uniform and newly powdered white wig. The air was chilled, wretched, and wet with the mildest hint of dreariness hanging over the town. He bounded to Weatherby's office. There sat he, freshly groomed with the air of calmness spread before him. He was rustling through documents and failed to raise his head as he spoke to James.

"The navy captured the Black Pearl last evening, James. Each member of the crew has fully been accounted for." He raised his head and discarded the sheet he held within his hand. "With the exception of their Captain, Mr. Sparrow." The pair sauntered easily to the window. James had held his composure while the Governor continued. "Warrants for his arrest and notices of his escape have been posted. Dangerous man, Jack Sparrow."

There was something about said dangerous man, something exquisite and unique that James Norrington could never quite put his finger on. There were times when he'd decided he'd fully discovered it, that he'd ripped the man's soul into a thousand pieces that couldn't ever be repaired. That was never correct.

Jack Sparrow wasn't just a pirate. He was a brilliant man, a binding soul to the world. He had long ago sold himself to the sea. He was a conniving, vicious creature filled with horrible thoughts, a black mind. At least that's what he was in public eye.

He was a charmer with his tongue, able to escape any dreaded situation. It's his strength, you know. He would do anything for power. He would give all it takes simply to taste the sweet bouquet of authority and the freedom paired with it. He was a hungry person, escaping reality and falling into a world he called his own. That's why they call him, the pirate, so awfully contented.

James Norrington entered the town market with quite the air of elegance, a stately mixture still caressing his face, even in the dress of a casual pair of breeches and dainty white chemise. The cool air nipped at his few exposed chest hairs and the neat breeze poured over his rich locks. The call for dinner had long passed and the sun was now sinking beneath the horizon.

He crossed a bustling road and the sea arrested the entirety of his attention. He sauntered rather lazily along the shoreline admiring the building of ships in the distance, of fisherman and of traders. Such things captured his fascination so majestically!

He stepped just where the tide met the sand and inhaled the heavenly scent of a sea which he so loved. He could almost swear it loved him right back. Indeed she had often called him right to her heart, mindset to claim his life. She never followed through, she sucked him so near to such a fate, but rather took his ship and crewmen instead. She was most loving to worthy men.

He removed his shoes, continuing with his socks and finishing with the roll of his breeches to just above his knees. The wind held its breath as he continued his steps into the water. The air felt warm against his beautiful face. He stood in her shallow waters, his toes sinking beneath the great beads of sand which held him. The wind exhaled as he arched his back, chest opening to the skies, while he released his arms to their full extent.

Yes, at that moment, James Norrington did, indeed, decide she loved him with the entirety he did her. --