Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.

A/N: Another rapid-fire update, but only because I forgot one very important thing in the last chapter – a very big thank you to you all. You all rock and every review makes my heart sing. Since I forgot to include such sentiments in the last chapter, here it is.

The man Julia turned away from wore a white shirt, unbuttoned, that revealed a lightly furred abdomen and chest. Faded cotton trousers rode low and hugged narrow hips. His wet hair was long and loose, flowing across a towel that was casually draped across his shoulders. Arms were folded across his chest. A look of curiosity washed over his features, an unasked question wanting to skate past his lips.

Hating herself for swallowing hard in apprehension, and grudging admiration, Julia quickly stood and backed up two steps in the direction of the door that would give her access to the main deck. Her heart accelerated in fear that she gave the captain the wrong impression. The only other man she had ever seen bare-chested was her husband. The room was becoming unbearably small. She had not even seen her husband…

Never mind that.

But in an instant, Norrington was crossing the room and buttoning his shirt. Covering the faded battle wounds that stippled the front of his torso and – presumably – the back, Norrington smoothed the fabric across his chest. A hand started to tuck the shirt into his pants, but stopped, as if the captain suddenly remembered who the present company was in the room. Halting before a small cabinet, he threw a look at Julia over his shoulder. "And what will the lady be drinking this evening?"

Chuckling nervously, Julia slowly made her way to the captain's side, not at all sure if she should. He called me a lady. That is promising. Shaking her head in the negative, she replied, "I know so little of spirits, save a shot of sherry in my coffee to fight off a fever. Or a glass of wine with a meal. What do you recommend to take away the chill? I am at your mercy."

His lips curved in a bemused grin.

"I need more than a shot of sherry to warm these bones. Scotch, good scotch, will put some heat in your veins… as well as your head. New to the beverage?" His eyes practically glowed with mirth at the idea of introducing the beverage to Julia's palate. Although if he thought about it, much time had passed since Norrington last consumed the whiskey himself. A damn shame, if I do say so myself. Recently, his drink of choice had been rum, in various forms of concentration. In fact, the last time had consumed good rum – not the watered down version some bars in Tortuga succeeded in passing off – was when he was inadvertently in amalgamation with Captain Jack Sparrow, a man Norrington refused to acknowledge, even mentally.

Feeling her cheeks darken once again, she ducked her head, looking at him through thick lashes before replying, "Nay. I know my father would retire to the library after supper for a glass in the evening, but I never once had a taste. So I do not think it would be wise if I consumed much of it, never having sipped it before. Just a… just a swallow, if you will." It dawned on Julia that the feeling of shame washing over her made her feel as if she were again twelve years old, her fingers into something a lady should not touch.

Squatting down before the bureau, Captain Norrington opened the doors and then rested his wrists against the cabinet top, his weight balanced in the balls of his feet, contemplating the alcohol before him. The idea of plying the lapsed missus with alcohol she was unaccustomed to drinking was appealing to say the least, but that was not why Norrington asked her to join him for a drink. Although, if prodded, he was unsure if he could explain the reason why he asked her to stay.

Thrusting a bottle of scotch into her hands, Captain Norrington grabbed two glasses and quickly stood. Usually it was grog or other such rotgut to take the edge off a lonely night with the good stuff saved for heavy negotiations or celebrations. Well, he felt like celebrating, if one could call it that, for some reason.

Maybe 'tis the fact that the men and the ship came out of the storm with minimal injuries. That a million years ago, I captained a vessel that was not so lucky. So I shall drink to their memory and toast the luck of my men tonight, knowing they could have been awarded a different fate. And appreciate the fact that I have a beautiful woman in my quarters.

Marching over to the table with much more bravado then he felt, Norrington was barely able to suppress a smile when Missus Ramage followed slowly behind, her steps unsure. Taking the bottle from her without comment, he poured his guest two fingers of rum before handing her a glass, then poured himself several fingers before being satisfied that a slow burn would warm his stomach.

Clinking his glass against hers, Captain Norrington curved his lips into a lopsided smile. "Bottoms up," he said before downing the contents of his goblet. He watched, over the rim of his glass, as Missus Ramage at first sampled the beverage and then, after doing her best to squelch a reaction to the taste, mimicking the captain's downing of the clear liquid. Her throat burned and her insides felt like they were on fire. Looking at the inside of the empty glass, Julia understood the captain's choice of libations to warm his bones, but did not understand the appeal of the beverage's harsh taste.

"Ready for a refill?" His words were low and quiet, nearly as intoxicating as the beverage itself. Like a finger along the length of her spine, the timbre of his voice caused her to feel chills. Shuddering slightly, Julia rubbed at goose bumps that rose along her arms. Unable to look at the captain, lest he mock her reaction to his words, Julia shook her head.

Whipping the towel off his shoulders and setting it on the table, Captain Norrington plopped himself into a chair and poured himself another drink. After stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he motioned for Julia to sit, taking her glass out of her hand and refilling her goblet. At her protest, he replied, "I do not like to drink alone. I like drinking alone even less with an audience. I promise that I will not let you get so drunk that you fall ill. But can you disagree that after the course of events from this afternoon, this is a nice change of pace?"

Sinking into the chair, knowing that she was beaten, Julia silently accepted the refilled glass. Knowing that she should accept his hospitality for as long as it stayed just that – hospitality. Once it turned the corner and became more than precarious companionship, Julia was willing to pull the knife she had tucked into the waist of her skirts. She was not so naïve that she had never been the recipient of the drunken advances of a man.

"'Tis… pleasant, thank you. But my… I feel… My stomach… is a little delicate." Despite trying to utilize decorum, Julia could tell it was slipping past the captain without his comprehension. "I was ill earlier, so please forgive my constraint. I am just beginning to feel myself." Julia was unable to finish her thought, her cheeks scarlet in humiliation. I cannot believe I admitted that!

Taking pity on his passenger, Norrington smiled ruefully. He wanted to take her hand in his and soothe away her embarrassment, but such actions would be improper and startled him in their appearance. "Even the most sea-worthy of men do not have completely iron constitutions. I was ill earlier myself. There is no harm in such. To experience such a storm and keep your stomach is impossible. Consider all of it an initiation, an initiation that puts you into an exclusive club."

Julia wet her lips, her pink tongue in stark contrast with her pale skin, barely nodding her head. She was unable to express her gratitude for the captain's admission and kind words. Taking several deep breaths in order to attempt a thank you, Julia was unaware at how intently Captain Norrington was watching her chest rise and fall. So when he spoke again, Julia was momentarily startled.

"I was very rude to you last night."

Startled, Julia looked up from the drink she held in both hands. Clear green eyes, unmarred by the effects of the alcohol, locked onto her blue orbs. Well, this was unexpected. She had barely slept after retiring back to her cabin, the accusations the captain lobbed at her still rattling around in her brain. But after he came to her rescue, she was even more confused. Without breaking his gaze, Julia set the glass on the table, and then leaned back in her seat, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Yes. You were." Julia had to wonder if the admission was going to segue into questions about Mister Cobb being in her quarters. She had heard that the captain had invoked the right to flog the former first mate for his indiscretions, who took five lashes as punishment for violating their passenger. Julia was sick over the idea of the crew drawing blood on one of their own, but she was thrilled beyond words at such immediate and emphatic action. But it did cause her to now see the captain in a new light. Julia just was unsure if it was an improvement or not.

He nodded his head, as if agreeing the movement of a chess opponent. Mimicking her movements, he set his empty glass on the table also, the settled against his seatback. Crossing his arms across his chest, he quirked an eyebrow up in amusement. Other women would cower in the same circumstance. Missus Ramage was proving yet again to be anything but ordinary.

"I apologize."

Her eyes narrowed. This, Julia was expecting after his last comment. But she was unsure as to what precipitated this turn of the conversation. The only possibility Julia could come up with was the captain witnessing her fighting off the advances of one of his crew. If both if the captain and the first mate only knew that if Mister Cobb had been a little less oily and a little more courteous, it would have been difficult to not be flattered by the handsome man's attention. But that thinking lived in an alternative history. Right now, Julia felt she was eking out a fragile truce with the captain because of her temerity with the former first mate. "Why?"

The simple question, spoken low and quiet, startled Norrington. Expecting an acceptance of his apology, he sat silent a moment, then burst into laughter. The anger washing over Julia's features at his reaction delighted him even further, but Norrington did his best to still his mirth by downing a swallow of scotch.

"I am so sorry, but I was not expecting such… brutal curiosity," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. Seeing that she was still not amused, Norrington leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table with his hands clasped. The humor suddenly erased from his visage, Norrington replied, "Fair enough. You have done nothing wrong to either my men or myself. I should have no quarrel with you, and yet I find it impossible to give you reprieve from the hostility you do not deserve."

His words stung, despite the admission of his guilt in wrongfully condemning her. Staring at the translucent liquid in the glass before her, Julia debated whether she should walk out of the room or try to hammer out a peace treaty. If that was in fact what the captain was offering. There had been some moments of genuine joy over the past few days, as well as abject humiliation. Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. The voyage was nearly complete; if the captain wanted to remain conflicted in his disaccord, Julia knew she could last a few more days.

"A fact that I have not failed to notice." There was no use in lying. Her words were spoken with a hint of sadness rather than bitterness. Unsure of how to handle herself, Julia broke his gaze and tilted her head back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling. If only she could think of a plausible excuse to remove herself from the room. The room, which was becoming insufferably too small as the moments rolled on. She wet her lips, struggling to think of how to parry his next words. Struggling to think of what his next words might be.

Norrington pressed his lips together so that a white lined formed. It would seem that the proverbial genie was out of the bottle. Hating himself for skewering her reputation by his own unmitigated accusations, Norrington wanted another drink of liquid courage to bolster his attempts at correcting the damage he inflicted. Instead, he found himself staring at the base of her throat, watching the pulse beat in time with her racing heart. Rubbing his hand across his face, he smiled grimly. There was no way out of this without struggling through the rest of the conversation. With a huge sigh, he plunged into his explanation. "Missus Ramage, I–."

"Captain," Julia interrupted. Norrington was taken aback at the interruption, his brows knitting into a frown, but found himself unable to regain control of the conversation as Julia continued. "I am not really sure if I want to be privy to the reason for your animosity. I mean not to be rude – just honest. Obviously, I either remind you of a whore you have been with before or another female has hurt you badly. In case you need reminding, I am neither woman, although I could horsewhip that person – or persons – for ruining you against the female half of the population. For you seem to be a fair and just man otherwise.

"I thank you for the use of your quarters during the storm; your kindness for that, I cannot begin to quantify. I thank you for the scotch. I thank you for letting me book passage on your ship. But I will not thank you for explaining the reasons you do not like me. Now, I think I shall retire. Good evening." Julia stood, making a grand ceremony of pushing in her chair, then picking up her glass and quickly downing the liquor.

Pushing himself back from the table, Norrington also stood, his bulk blocking her path to the door. "I am not finished speaking, so please do not depart just yet." As Julia's lips curved into an outraged protest, he continued. "Now, I know you are confused. And angry. And I begrudge you none of that. But understand that I know you have done everything you can to overlook, or rise above, my displeasure. And yes, my – how did you call it – animosity is misdirected. I thank you for your company this evening. And honesty. You have been nothing but forthright with me since the moment we met. Please understand that I know that I have been most disrespectful. And that it has been unwarranted. I know this. And I know that I have been unfair."

The man before did not look earnest, as others might in seeking forgiveness. Rather, he looked expectant, but relaxed. Stubble peppered his jaw line. Dark, wavy hair curtained his cheekbones. Green eyes glowed in interest. An eyebrow rose in curiosity.

Yes! You have been more than unfair! All I want is to get home. Back to my life and everything that I hold dear. And, instead, all I get is more and more…

Confused.

Stunned that the word popped into her head, Julia suddenly found it difficult to breath. As if all air had dissipated from the room, she found herself unable to catch her breath. The walls started to rotate and the floors began to pitch. But a quick glance out the window told her that despite the black velvet of the sky, the skies were pristine. Pushing past the captain, Julia reached the cabin door and thrust it open, taking in huge gulping breaths of fresh air.

Once her head stopped spinning, Julia turned and faced the captain, hugging the doorframe. "I accept your apology. Now, please forgive me for taking advantage of your hospitality, and spirits, but I fear I have no head for alcohol and must retire to my cabin. I bid you good night." She hesitated, then added, "You… Captain… I feel that I have not been completely forthright with you. I… I did not mention my… marital status upon acquisition of passage not because I was ashamed of anything. Rather, I did not know how to explain my situation. You should know that… My… my husband is dead. Killed – murdered – by pirates that descended upon the merchant ship where he was doctoring. A little less than a year ago. I–." Her voice faltered. Swallowing hard, she spun on her heel and escaped back to her cabin.

Confused, Norrington's lips curved into a tight smile as he glided over to the open door, watching Missus Ramage's retreating back. Still unsure if his apology would change their dynamic, he found the admission of her husband's death highly surprising indeed.

Obviously, there was a reason she told him. Not so obviously was the reason why.

Closing the door, Norrington pulled his shirt off as he made his way to his bed. Slumber would have to take precedence over the enigma that Missus Ramage had just handed him.