Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, you guys (Please, keep them coming). I'm absolutely thrilled you like my story!

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James Norrington hadn't slept in two days. Everything he perceived always was a little bit too bright, too harsh, too loud. At night this sudden acuteness of reality dimished. It was then that he felt most comfortable, because most of the crew rested, which afford him the opportunity to safely walk the deserted deck and hang after his own private thoughts.

He stood at the railing and watched out on the sea. The moon tinted the scenery in an odd bluish colour that almost seemed artificial. With a sigh he rubbed the bridge of his nose and his tense shoulders dropped slightly as some of the tension that dominated his every waking hour left him. During daytime he was always watchful, always careful not to provoke with an unguarded gaze or to show any kind of frailty. It was a difficult task, since the outward appearance of many crewmen certainly provoked an incredulous stare.

When he had first come face to face with Davy Jones he had recoiled inwardly. The tentacles that formed his beard were constantly in motion like the serpents on Medusa's head. His face only bore dim vestiges of human features. His nose had vanished, so that his severe mouth and his eyes dominated his countenance.

"What does this mean? How dare you step foot on my ship!" Davy Jones had thundered angrily, right after Norrington had gone on board at Port Royal. The whole crew had been watching the interchange between their captain and the new arrival interestedly with their weapons poised.

After a brief moment of hesitation he had managed to answer. His voice had remained calm - a fact which had baffled even himself, "I was sent by the man who has summoned you."

"He couldn't come himself, eh? Had to send his puppet?" he had eyed Norrington disdainfully who had stood there unflinchingly in his impeccable uniform.

"Don't mistake me for something I'm not," James had replied with a calm air, while his inner nervousness had only been betrayed by the quick raising and falling of his chest. "My role in this is not very different from yours, I'm forced to do something I don't want."

The monster had looked at him interestedly, "It's hard to believe you came on board out of your own accord, I agree. Still, tell me one good reason I shouldn't kill you on the spot."

James had smiled humourlessly. He had been prepared for this threat, "I can even provide you with two."

"Lucky you," Davy Jones had interjected sarcastically.

He had continued seemingly unimpressed, "Firstly, I know who it is that controls you and I will only give away his name in exchange for my safety. Secondly, since you can't dispose of him yourself, I would be willing and able to accomplish this task for you, come the time."

Davy Jones had looked at him interestedly, "I see you haven't undertaken this mission light-heartedly, young man, but have you considered that there are other means by which I could extract the name from you," his left hand, that had the from of a crustacean like claw had come dangerously close to James's face, "Torture…There are ways to make you talk."

"I'm not afraid of death," Norrington had declared bravely, though he knew this to be a flat out lie. The statement might have been true a couple of days ago, but since then a lot had changed.

"Don't insult me with lies," Davy Jones's eyes had sparkled at him dangerously. "There's one thing I know for sure: every living thing desperately clings to life."

"Nevertheless I will never give you the name," his hands had balled to fists at his side.

"What is it that makes you act so bravely, young man? Honour? No, there could be only one thing to make a reasonable man act so foolishly….Love," he had spat out the last word with contempt.

"Whatever my reasons be," there had been a traitorous tremble in his voice, "you will not get the name unless I think it's time."

Davy Jones had leant closer so that his terrible face hovered only inches from James's. He had almost thought he could feel the touch of one of his tentacles on his skin. The smell of algae and fish had invaded his nostrils. A shiver had run down his back, nevertheless he hadn't flinched back.

"I can see you're not joking. So you may live…for now."

So that was how he was living - with a death threat hovering constantly over his head. In his darkest hours he tried to convince himself that even this would pass and there would be other times, when this would only be an unpleasant memory. Somehow he always liked to imagine that she would be with him then. He tried to envision her, but though only a couple of days had passed, he couldn't recall exactly what she looked like. Details had managed to stick in his head; however he never quite managed to join them to a complete picture – a fact which frustrated him immensely.

There was one thing about her, though, he remembered with absolute clarity. He was having trouble putting it in words, let alone formulating coherent thoughts in order to understand it. The attempt to analyze it seemed to boarder on impossible.

Upon meeting a stranger for the first time, everybody quite naturally forms a preliminary judgement. It is always entirely irrational and purely based on instinct, since you don't get to know the person properly. You only get a short glimpse of what they are like. He had met people he detested on sight, others whose company he found quite pleasant immediately. This intuitive feeling of knowing her character, of deep familiarity was always present, whenever he spent time with Josephine

There was something characteristic about Josephine that manifested in everything she did and made her unique. No other person could be like that. It was like she projected a part of her essence, of who she truly was, outward, so that it became almost tangible. Somehow, maybe thanks to his instinct, intuition or whatever it was, he was able to sense it. It was warm, in a way familiar. Like laughter after there had been stern silence for too long. It sounded even rubbish in his own ears. He let out a dry laugh. He should probably never try to verbalize those thoughts to her, since they always sounded so ludicrous, but that was how he remembered her.

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Josephine had discovered in the last couple of days that living on board of a ship wasn't easy. No one around her treated her like she was used to. Elizabeth mostly kept to herself, William was sulking constantly and Mr. Gibbs only communicated with her, when he was barking out orders. When it came to the workload, she was conveniently regarded as an equal and therefore responsible for fulfilling certain tasks on board of the ship. They were only eight - Tia Dalma had insisted on accompanying them, but no one would have even dared to ask her to raise a finger – and so every single hand was needed. She had quickly learned what starboard and portside were, right after Gibbs had yelled at her a couple of times, there were blisters on her palms that stemmed from pulling the hawsers to adjust the rig. Her arms ached thanks to the physical exertion she was not used to, but she never complained and just silently did as she was told.

At the end of the day she crawled up in her bunk, but was never able to fall asleep straight away. She lay there motionlessly as thoughts drifted through her consciousness uncontrollably. Often they were incoherent fragments of what Josephine had experienced in the past weeks that needed to be put together in order to make any sense.

Within a relative short period of time she had been forced to grow up. Until the death of her father she had still been the daughter, a young woman on the brink of adulthood, merely twenty. It was not a question of aging physically, but rather a change of attitude. She had been suddenly forced to stand on her own and deal with the excruciating experience of death of a loved one all by herself.

Her father had died. It had not been the first time some one in her family died. When she was a child, an old an sickly aunt of hers passed away. She could remember going to her funeral, observing in childlike wonder the strange ritual of crying relatives and stern faces. Of course, she could not have been much older than ten back then. Grieve had been a concept she had not been able to grasp fully at that time, but now she understood.

After the first sadness had subsided, after she did no longer cry herself asleep every night, she had entered a different stage of grieving of which she suspected it would last a lifetime. It was a rather treacherous feeling. It made her wake up in the morning like everything was perfectly normal, ready to go about her day as usual, but then realization came. This epiphany was cruel, because it made her realize once again there was a hole in her life. The fragile fabric spun out of social relations consisting of family, friends – just basically loved ones - was no longer what it used to be, because a crucial part was missing. A person she loved. Like a déjà-vu this moment of realization repeated over and over again. Mostly when she was absolutely unsuspecting.

Josephine turned in her bed to make these thoughts disappear, but she managed to chase them away only partly. James…she wondered what he was doing right now. If he was well…Oh God, how she wished he was, because if he wasn't, none of this made any sense. Every day started with her conscious decision to do this. Each morning she decided anew to endure the suspicious gazes she was thrown by the others, to go through with the plan she had come up, to endanger her life for what she truly wanted. So in the end the truth was that each day started with her conscious decision for him. Maybe it was a sign of insanity she chose to act this way or something very close to insanity. It was like hitting your head hard against a wall and hoping that the stones would crumble instead of breaking your skull.

She let out a frustrated huff, realizing that it was a waste of time trying to fall asleep. On tip toes she made her way through the bowels of the ship, trying not to wake anyone. When she stepped out on deck the cool night air and the calming rush of the sea welcomed her.

Josephine walked towards the railing, but as she approached she noticed another person standing there. It was Elizabeth. The other woman had never been unfriendly to her, but that would have been a rather difficult thing to do, since she had barely talked in the last couple of days. Josephine instinctively made a step back, hoping that she might still be able to escape ere she would be noticed.

"Please, stay," Elizabeth turned her head to look at her from over her shoulder and threw her a sad little smile.

So it was too late to take flight. Josephine grimaced slightly, but obeyed Elizabeth's wish nevertheless. It wasn't that she didn't like her, but she always felt self-conscious in her company. Josephine had the strong suspicion that had offended her by praising her courage the other day. Judging from Elizabeth's reaction to her words, she hadn't been particularly pleased by what she had said.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you the other day. I didn't mean to," she said finally after they had spent a while standing next to each other wordlessly.

Elizabeth hesitated briefly before she answered, as if she had trouble recalling the incident Josephine was referring to, "I wasn't…offended. It's just, well….ever since Jack died I can't help but feel…guilty."

"Guilty?" Josephine turned her head to look at Elizabeth. She was an attractive woman, but one could tell that she had spent the last couple of nights worrying instead of sleeping thanks to the telltale dark circles under her eyes.

"You don't know, do you?" the other woman let out an ironic laugh.

"How should I know? No one on this ship talks to me except for Tia or Barbossa. So I can choose between enigmatic ramblings or a battle of wits. Either can be exhausting after a while," Josephine said with a hint of accusation in her voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt that way…I didn't even notice…I guess I was simply too self-absorbed… We've all been a bit beside ourselves, lately," Elizabeth's voice sounded genuinely embarrassed.

"What happened?"

"Have you ever been in love, Josephine?" Elizabeth suddenly asked out of the blue, instead of answering her question.

Josephine didn't know whether she felt friendly enough towards Elizabeth to share something this personal with her, but as usually her mouth was quicker than her mind. Maybe it was because she had had to hold her tongue in check for so many years, "Just once."

Elizabeth nodded silently at her answer.

"I was going to marry Will," she added after a while

"So I've heard."

"I was wearing my dress, waiting for him at the altar…it rained, so all the other guests had already left," there was a faraway quality to her voice, "When he didn't appear I knew something terrible must have happened, because I knew he loved me and nothing could have kept him from me…Back then I was so sure it was him."

"And now you're not anymore?"

"I've known Will since I was about ten. We were best friends until my father admonished me to remember I was the Governor's daughter and had to behave like a lady. So I obeyed and kept my distance. It was about the time he started calling me Miss Swann, which I never liked," a wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I knew he fancied me and prayed he would finally find the courage. When he finally did one day and I felt ecstatic."

Josephine listened patiently. She didn't succumb to the delusion that Elizabeth told her all this because she suddenly regarded her as a friend. They knew each other too little for that, but she understood that it was something the young woman had to get off her chest. She could sympathize with her, so she remained quite and listened.

"When I first met Captain Jack Sparrow, I thought him to be the most vile man on earth, but in spite of…well, everything…he turned out to be a good man," she sighed, "He's a trickster. It's kind of funny actually…," the dry laugh that followed indicated that it was indeed everything other than funny, "ultimately it was I who was the better deceiver of the two of us. Back at the Pearl the kraken was only after him, it wanted him not us….so what was I to do? I couldn't let anything happen to the others…so I…I kissed him and handcuffed him to the mast. He never had a chance," she rubbed her eyes with her hands as if she was tired, but the glistening tears that shone in them didn't escape Josephine's notice.

"You're blaming yourself," the young woman concluded softly. "You shouldn't."

"I'm not only blaming myself for what I did, but for what I felt," Elizabeth lowered her head, "It wasn't just a kiss. I never…Will doesn't kiss me that way…"

"Do love Sparrow?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth's response was barely audible.

"Oh, dear!" Josephine finally said in a small voice.

"Yes, that sums it up quite nicely," the other woman looked at her sadly. "You don't happen to be able to give me some advice, do you?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call myself an expert when it comes to love," Josephine sighed and looked at Elizabeth sympathetically. The expression in her eyes was almost imploring, so she felt constrained to say something consoling, "The only advice I can give you is perhaps…try to be honest with yourself…and above all with William. I don't know him all too well, but I think he would very much like you to talk to him."

"I know. I just don't know what to tell him."

"The truth can be very unpleasant at times, but it's always better on the long run."

"You're probably right, but I can't… not just yet."

"I fear my advice was not particularly helpful…"

"It is good advice," Elizabeth assured her softly, "and I'm very glad you listened."

"You're very welcome," Josephine replied. After that they just stood next to each other at the railing looking out at the sea in companionable silence.