Black Wings of Fate

Summary: For every fiftieth human born into the world, there is one guardian born for them, their souls connected by a single gem. Others have gems and guardians they can't ever see or meet. But James Norrington was born with a black pearl in his hand and a guardian so opposite to him that they could never be.

James didn't much remember the return trip he made to Port Royal. He didn't remember the two giggling Gypsy girls giving him a strange multicolored bead, wrapped on a flimsy string of rope. He didn't remember getting up on his horse. He didn't remember returning at a sedate pace, his horse stopped whenever it wanted to graze some tall grass or bushes. He hadn't been all that aware when he had returned to the usually busy streets of Port Royal near midnight, when only a few taverns and inns were still open and only the occasional soldier marched by on patrol. He wasn't sure if he nodded to their salutes as he passed. He didn't remember getting off of the horse and putting it back into his stable since the stable hand was probably home and in bed by now. He doesn't remember getting into his house or climbing up the stairs towards his bedroom, completely bypassing the dinner his housekeeper had left out for him before going home.

Hell, he didn't remember getting ready for bed and remained completely unaware of his surroundings right up until he looked at the black pearl that connected him to his Curatrix and he couldn't help but wonder if all that he had seen and heard was true.

Was his Jack really so important a person? Why was he then the guardian of somebody as unimportant as James? Did he truly hold so much power? Was he really cursed? Why so briefly? How had he managed to break free of it? It was funny how just a few days ago, James would have scuffed at all that curse nonsense and everything else the Gypsy woman had shown him, but he knew better now. You could say his eyes were now open.

But there were so many things he still knew nothing about. Half of the things Madam Blackwild had told him made no sense to him whatsoever and the other hf he had even less hope of understanding as it had been the first time he heard of it. He was hopelessly lost and he didn't know what to think. Should he call off the search for Sparrow and instead try to find his own Curatrix?

No, that would be a selfish use, abuse of power that he could not afford himself to go through. His own father had abused his position as Admiral to continue hunting - haunting and stalking, more likely, as James had come to view it after a few years - his own Curatrix even with their bond broken, and by his own hand, no less. Lawrence Norrington had grown obsessed with Captain Teague in the years following that day when James met Jack for the first time. The Navy had eventually started hinting that the good Admiral had served enough and it was time for retirement. It took Norrington Senior a good five years to finally accept that he was no longer in the best shape to hunt pirates, but he had only agreed because Teague had not been spotted for two years. No longer able to sense his guardian due to their broken bond, Lawrence temporarily accepted that the red coated pirate captain must have been claimed by the sea, although he started going out on brief expeditions of his own making and financing after news of the Misty Lady or the Troubadour being spotted near Madagascar or the Caribbean.

That had been before James became captain of his own ship. Once his son had his own command, though, Lawrence had tasked James with continuing his legacy and, if he ever was to sight Teague again, he was to find a way to drag him all the way back to London so the two rivals - practically the halves of each other's soul - could look each other in the eye before the boards dropped from under Teague's feet and he died. Horrified by the thought of taking his own Curatrix's father from the world, James had only nodded and made no promises, sighing in relief when he was reposted a few years later in the Caribbean, far enough away from his father that, should he truly spot the elder Teague, he might not need to lie to his father.

So he couldn't just drop his search for Sparrow, especially not after showing such confidence and sportsmanship in giving him a 'day's head start', but he couldn't just forget or ignore the warnings Madam Blackwild had issued him. It would be downright foolish to ignore such grave advice. That left him at an impasse and he didn't know what to do about it. It was not as though he didn't care about what happened to his Curatrix. Dealing with Sparrow had actually brought to light just how valuable and resourceful a Curatrix could be. Was his guardian as likely to be as useful? Sparrow danced to his own tune. Would his Jack be so inclined to dance with James to the Navy's?

'You know he won't,' a part of his mind whispered, recalling childish conversations, a twelve year old pirate boy speaking of the freedom of the open seas and adventures that could be made legends. 'Why is it that every Jack in my life is a pirate and a freedom-and-sea-obsessed scalawag?' He snorted to himself and put both Sparrow and his Jack out of his mind, falling asleep.

00000

He was running. He wasn't sure why, but he was running, running faster than his legs had ever carried him before. He was running as though the devil himself was chasing him and from the sounds behind him, he might not have been too far off. He was in a forest and his lungs burned as he jumped over fallen branches, downed trees, too tall plants - thank god he had long legs - protruding roots. He was gasping and running, the world around him nothing more than a green blur.

His heart was thudding most irregularly and he was still running.

Running away. Running away from monsters and men both in one. The Devil's servants, they were, he recalled. They wanted something he had and he couldn't give it to them.

But then he tripped and he wasn't running anymore. He was gasping on the ground, holding a cold chest to his body as they, the monster-men, surrounded him with cruel laughter, leers and sneers. He wasn't holding the chest anymore, instead he was running again. Gods, so much running. Too much, too much running. His legs were burning, tired, giving out under him with every step but he forced himself to keep going, to keep running. Running. Always running. None stop running. Only green in his vision. Greenery and speed and running. There were no more monsters after him but he kept running, expecting them any minute now. Running.

His heartbeat remained oh so irregular.

He kept running until he could run no more and he found himself, not in a jungle but on a beach. Still running. How was he still running when he had no more strength left in him. He ran and ran until he suddenly just stopped running and looked. Looked out towards the sea. He had been running so he could look out at the sea. To watch. To watch something out at the sea. That's why he'd been running. But there was nothing to see!

His heart continued to beat that strange beat.

He was suddenly running into the shallows, running until he could run no more due to the resistance of the sea. Running to watch. To watch in horror as a beast unlike any he had ever seen rose from the sea, monstrous tentacles wrapping around a ship that was too far away to be anything more than.a black dot, a black outline of a great vessel. He could do nothing but watch as the tentacles started pulling down and the ship, with no small effort spent on her part to resist, succumbed to the creature's, to the monster's, the Devil's Pet's strength and was pulled into the depths in a horrific scene of nightmare and he was running again, trying to get further into the water but the sea was pushing him out. He found himself heaved back onto the beach, drenched, his tired legs and feet sunk to his knees in wet sand suddenly gone rock.

The beating of his heart remained peculiar.

He was screaming, calling out names he wasn't sure he was aware of, wasn't sure if he really knew and, if he did, from where. He was calling out to the people on the ship, begging them to abandon it, to swim away. He was screaming for the gods, begging them to stop this, to spare them. He was screaming, his soul was screaming. He was reaching out and so was his soul. Reaching out for what had to be there, what must be there, what, if not there, will kill him. 'Please be there, please be there, please be there, pleasebethere, pleasebethere, pleasebethere, pleasebetherepleasebetherepleasebethere.' His calls were not answered. He felt cold and scared and like he was suffocating and none of this was coming from himself. It was coming from him. He was scared. He was hurting. And he could do nothing to help him because he was weak and he was the strong one. He would know what to do. He didn't know what to do but to watch and beg.

His heartbeat was determinately irregular.

And then it happened. It happened. He heard it. The cracking. His hand reached for a pocket he hadn't even known existed and pulled out something that sang to his soul. And he looked at it and found it beautiful but full of cracks! Why!? Why was it cracked?! It shouldn't be cracked! His heart suddenly seized and he gave an anguished cry as something was ripped away from his very soul, taken away, not coming back, ever. He doubled over, tears streaming down his face as his hand clenched the stardust, desperately trying to keep it, to not let it slip, it was his, damn it! But he hurt. He hurt so much and he could not concentrate enough to keep his fist clenched shut. He whimpered pitifully as the stardust was carried away on the breeze whose warmth he did not feel., gone, gone, gone, gone, gonegonegonegonegonegonegone. Forever.

His heart stopped. His world ended. His life stopped. His existence ended. His self stopped. His soul ended for there was nothing on the other side to make it infinite, whole, immortal, eternal. His heart stopped.

He felt a normal heartbeat against his chest.

00000

James sprang up in bed, gasping for air, one hand clawing at his chest, the other desperately reaching for the black pearl that was his gem, his connection to his Curatrix, his guardian, his other half, his soulmate. To Jack. He couldn't register his house staff trying to calm him down, hold him down, stop him from hurting himself. They felt like sand-turned-to-rock, holding him back, taking him away from his Curatrix and, Tutela or not, the one being protected or not, he had to reach his guardian, had to find his Jack, had to find him, reach him, protect him, save him.

The second his hand touched the black pearl, he went nearly statue still before sagging as a sluggish, sleepy-like comfort came from the other side of the bond of their souls, feeling almost puzzled. He let out a desperate sob of relief and sagged against the restraining hands, letting them hold him upright as he clutched the small black pearl to his chest. More and more waves of warm comfort and unconditional love washed over him, accented slightly with confusion and worry, and he bathed in the love and care of his guardian, no matter how far away he might be. The horror of the nightmare was slowly fading and James was barely aware of the tremors that ran through his body or the worried voices of his staff as they eased him back to bed, tucked him in and left him to get some more sleep after he calmed down.

He fell into a dreamless sleep under the ministrations of his Curatrix on his weary soul.

00000

"Oh my god, James! You look terrible!" Elizabeth gasped out when the Commodore joined her and her father to break their fast together, young Will looking up and gasping as well at the ghastly, white, ragged looking James Norrington as he entered the dinning room with a fretting Weatherby Swann. The man, despite his obviously tired state, was impeccably dressed and straight backed, but there were circles under his tired eyes and there was a different cravat around his neck - he had ripped up the cloth his gem had been attached to.

"Commodore? Are you quite alright?" The blacksmith asked uncertainly and Norrington just sighed.

"I could ask you all the same. Pardon me saying so, but you all look about as rested as I am." And it was the truth. None of them had actually slept particularly well since Isla de Muerta but it seemed Sparrow's presence in relative near proximity had held off the worst of it. Now that the guardian wasn't around anymore, they had all become a little jumpy. William had nearly gutted Mr Brown when the man had started yelling due to a hangover, Norrington had nearly shot his housekeeper when she had accidentally snuck up on him, Elizabeth had nearly fled her own room through the window when her maid had knocked over a vase with a poker in hand and Weatherby had actually clobbered his poor butler over the head when he had thought it was a pirate hiding in his wardrobe.

Add to all of that that James had dreamed about losing his guardian to something even less human than the cursed pirates and you can guess about how well he was.

"Do you think Jack's having these ... difficulties we are?" William asked a little later, when they all sat down to dine. It had been a mostly tense and silent affair until he had spoken up, all of them too busy expecting a skeletal cursed pirate to jump out and attack them. Needless to say, they were all relieved for the break.

"I imagine this is part of his day to day life, if in a ... lesser quantity." Elizabeth said with a sip of tea, still recalling how she had feasted like a hungry savage in the Black Pearl's cabin. "From our brief talks on that island, I've come to be under the impression that the supernatural is quite natural to him."

"Seeing as he has wings spurting out of his back, I have no doubt." The Governor said dismissively, not really caring about the Curatrix they had almost hanged illegally. It had been a tiring couple of weeks, to say the least, and he would just rather forget all about it than think about the Curatrix that had been somewhere in the center of it all.

"I will make sure to ask him the next time I see Mr Sparrow-"

"Captain," the new couple said without thinking and both looked at each other with fond exasperation. Jack had rubbed off on them, it would seem. Then it occurred to Elizabeth just what James had said and she turned to look at him sharply. "What do you mean, 'ask him the next time you see him'?" When the Commodore didn't immediately answer, instead taking a precise little sip of his tea, the woman's eyes narrowed. "James," she warned, her father and new fiancé looking between them in uncertain confusion.

Norrington sighed tiredly. "I may have let him go once, Miss Swann, but he is still a wanted criminal and a pirate. It is my solemn duty to insure he faces justice. Or quits piracy." The last sounded more like an afterthought. "Either way, I will be chasing Captain Sparrow until one of those two happens or he leaves my jurisdiction, where he will no longer be my problem."

"You're no more likely to chase him out of piracy than he is to chase you out of the Navy, James." Elizabeth said with a very unladylike snort. "That man was born to be who he is now and he knows it. The Black Pearl is his freedom and as long as there is a sea to sail on and a horizon to chase, Jack Sparrow won't be quitting piracy."

"Besides," Will pipped in, putting his utensils away and forgoing the tea. It was too sweet for his tastes. "He won't be leaving the Caribbean, either. From what I understand of what Mr Gibbs and those two idiots you have in the cells," he was, of course, referring to Pintel and Ragetti, whose only crimes were vague mentions of piracy and theft. Out of all the pirates in Barbossa's crew, they were the least dangerous and had committed the least crimes. They weren't even convicted for murder so it was prison for life for the two of them instead of the gallows. Besides, they had been the only ones willing to cooperate and were also the only ones who didn't make a fuss. Even Jack had said they had only followed Barbossa out of a need for survival. They weren't wicked men. They were idiots. "He has some sort of ... piratical power here and he won't be giving it up. Not to mention all that treasure back at Isla de Muerta. You're more likely to chase an island out of the Caribbean than you are Jack."

"We shall see. It does not hurt to try. I am sure Captain Sparrow is savvy enough to realize leaving the Caribbean is better than hanging from Gallows Point." Norrington commented, wiping his mouth and standing to leave. "If you would excuse me. I must see to the preparations of the Dauntless."

"That man carried a single gun with only one shot and a cutlass as the only weapons to face what he knew was a cursed pirate crew who wanted him dead, Commodore." The blacksmith called after him as he reached the door. James paused, looking at the serious younger man over his shoulder. "He's not afraid, Commodore. If you corner him - and that is a very unlikely if with the Black Pearl's speed, if you don't mind me saying so - you might not like what you will find. He can be every bit the pirate as he is a good man and he's no longer saving shots for mutinous first mates."

"Is that a threat, Mr Turner?" The Navy man asked with a drawl and an arched brow.

"No, Commodore. It's a warning." William said softly. James looked at him for a moment longer before continuing his way out with a farewell and a promise of returning in a month's time. Will sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He smiled at Elizabeth when she took his hand in comfort, both worrying about both men and wondering who would end up on top. Fortune would have to chose who to side with: the brave or the foolish. And when it came to the Pearl, Jack was clearly a brave fool.

James hastened his steps when he exited the Governor's mansion, chewing over what his young friends have said. It wouldn't overly change his decision. If anything, it made him even more determined. He would chase Sparrow well out of his jurisdiction in the Caribbean - for he knew Elizabeth was right where piracy and Sparrow - and as such would be in no obligation to hang a man he would rather see free, like Elizabeth and William would. Then, after he had dealt with Sparrow, seeing the man safely out of range of his noose, James could finally focus on his own Jack. He had decided that he would indeed find his Curatrix and find a way to keep him safe from whoever would want to bring him harm or take him away.

Decisions made, Commodore James Norrington started the chase exactly two hours later and it was a chase that forever changed his life.