Note: Avast! The following few chapters will be unapologetic Norrington excuses. Sail with me.
Please ignore my shameless robbery of Kant's philosophy. Constance has been on the island in 1730's, whereas Kant published the Categorical Imperative in the 1780's. It doesn't mean that no one could have held a similar opinion prior to him popularising this view. If anything, *points at the PotC script writers* they started it.
REBORN ch7
The bottle of wine had worked spectacularly, and Constance was granted permission to visit their patient. Simmons had forgiven her regardless, but he withheld that information as not to discourage any future bribes. He had excused himself, having no desire to be the extra man at the reunion.
Constance tiptoed to the cave entrance, assured that James was awake, and peeked inside to prepare herself. She expected that she would be shy, and lost for words, but the sight that was so much in his character made her forget her reservations. She bit her lip to suppress a giggle. Simmons' patient was very much not asleep, and from the looks of it he was trying to escape from the healing house, or at least from the confines of his bed. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, clearly not sure of his footing, but calculating the distance to the next place he could reach and grab onto to keep his balance. Just as he gathered energy to test his luck, Constance foiled his attempt.
"I shall have to inform the doctor that there is a mutiny abroad against his orders. I believe you've been told to rest."
His head snapped up. His lips tightened, as much as his grip on the edge of the bed. He recognised her. There was a hurricane of thoughts, but none he could form into words. This woman was the same height, with the same halo of brown hair set in chaotic disarray, the same long neck and fragile shoulders. As she slowly approached, he noticed the subtle differences in her. Her walk, still graceful, no longer resembled a thoughtless flight of a butterfly. Her hands were no longer as animated. The youthful disarray of energy was replaced by calmer, more focused movement. Yet, she still glowed with vitality and spirit. She had to be real. In fantasies, the people you knew always appeared unchanged, as you remembered them, but this Constance was older, not that extra years had left any significant aging marks on her. She perched beside him on the bed and wrapped him in a hug. Her breath caressed his cheek. He was enveloped by her scent; she smelled like tropical flowers.
"Don't be silly, James, of course I'm alive, and so are you," she informed him. She pinched him rather hard to prove her point, and he gasped.
"Oh, so I get to hear your voice after all. But you can do better than that. It's rude to be silent as a rock in a presence of a lady."
"It is an unforgivable oversight on my part, my lady," he informed her gravely, but his smile gave away his amusement. With ceremony, he raised her hand to his lips. His lips were still dry. Their touch was rough, but true and in perfect accord with their circumstances. "Regardless of time and place, I am ever delighted that you are willing to grace me with your company."
"As am I glad for your company, although I am sitting on something uncomfortable."
"It must be the comb. Mr Simmons had informed me that my physical appearance is much to be desired. However, I am no masochist. It would be easier to shave my head than to pull all the tangles out with one hand."
"I believe it was his intent to keep you occupied, than a true hope that you may succeed."
"His subtle plan has failed. Not that his point about my appearance is invalid."
She pointed out a fresh cut on his face. "It looks like you've made some progress regardless. You look better without the stubble."
"I don't like beards. They remind me of an unpleasant time in my life."
His words were sad. They created the tension and silence between them that she so strongly wanted to avoid.
"I can comb your hair for you," Constance suggested.
Briefly, he looked uncomfortable. She held her breath, wondering if he thought her too forward. They haven't seen each other in ten years. Perhaps, their previous history together had long lost its hold. It was akin to rediscovering the familiar territory and reclaiming every bit of former trust. It was difficult for two people who have seen hardship and have been disillusioned.
"I will be grateful for your assistance."
She motioned him to turn around. His hair was a true mess with pieces of seaweed entangled into the strands. She was uncertain that she could get them all out without cutting his hair. But, she was determined to avoid doing that. She remembered that he had never shaved his head, even further in his career when his station had required him to wear a wig. "I won't lie, last time I've seen such a hairball was when we have fished a drowning kinkajou out of the water."
"Thank you heartily for the comparison. I can imagine you combing the fur of a wet and most likely resisting creature." He winced as she pulled the worst of the seaweed out. "I hope it didn't bite you."
She didn't want him to worry that something had bitten her three years ago. Last time she had an injury, he fussed over it five times longer than it took to heal. "Why do you ask? Do you feel like biting me?"
"Certainly not, but had I such an inclination, I would think twice due to your doctor's threat to subdue me should I fail to control my animal instincts."
"Simmons can leave a lasting impression. He is a good man."
"Indeed, and he is the highest professional in his field, and a perfectionist, I believe."
"I'm glad that we agree."
James' assessment of the doctor was accurate. She was glad that they were getting along. Simmons left few people indifferent to him; people either disliked him strongly or held him in highest regard. She wanted James to befriend the doctor. In fact, she wanted everyone to like and befriend James too. The crew of Fortuna Minor was dear to her, and so was he.
Once she got the foreign objects out of his hair, the rest was much easier to do. She was working slowly, and began to enjoy the challenge. James was too distracted by their conversation to take notice, although he was vexed that he had to sit with his back turned to her and kept trying to turn around. He asked a lot of questions about her life on the island and about their community.
The village they have established had fifty two men, almost the entire crew of their ship. Only several of them have died over nine years. At first, they have opted for living on their ship. They didn't trust their treaty with Tanga, and had hoped that the fog might lift. When the first proved stable and second impossible, the physical needs forced them to build shelter on land. It was easier to hunt, and make use of the resources the island could offer if they didn't need to be carried over to the ship so frequently. Bit by bit, all of them moved to the island, although some like her still looked to the sea with hope. There were many events, some sad some amusing. Constance wasn't complaining, mostly focused on what brought her contentment, although James had guessed part of what she was not telling, the hardships, especially in the beginning when the environment was alien to them. Listening to her voice was pleasant, but he wanted to look at her, as if her touch and voice weren't enough.
When he tried to turn once again, she didn't stop him. She was almost done. He began to look somewhat presentable, at least by the island standards. Some of his hair hung loose around his face, and fell into his eyes. He brushed it away, annoyed.
"I have something to secure your hair," she told him.
She had the black ribbon neatly tied around her wrist that she was removing. He reached out to help with the knot. Her wrist was so slender and her hand so delicate. He remembered the day when she first ran her palm along his cheek, and the ribbon she had taken from him.
"You have kept it?" he asked in wonder as she brushed the offending strands out of his face and tied them back.
"Yes, and now I can return it to you since I have you back."
"I'm sorry, I have been unable to keep your present," he confessed quietly.
She must have remembered the same night because she stroked his cheek, but then dropped her hand like she had been burned. "It's all right. The cufflinks are very small and easy to lose."
"I didn't lose them," he assured her. "They were too important for me to lose. I have traded them to save someone's life or so I hoped that I would."
"That's very noble of you. You've done the right thing."
As always, she assumed the best of him. James didn't know why he deserved such faith. This is why he always told her the truth, and this is why he couldn't leave her with a false impression of him. "I am not a hero of that story," he confessed quietly. "My role had been rather pitiful." He shied away from her, but Constance couldn't let his remark go when he was degrading himself. Her arms came around him. She pulled him against her chest. Her palm slid down his back to the line of bandages, felt through the borrowed shirt.
"Allow me to be the judge of that. I have little trust in you giving yourself a fair trial."
"It's a long story. You won't like what you will hear, providing that you'll believe any of it."
"You forget that you are speaking to a woman who had published the book of sea legends. Some of them were very unpleasant, but I believe that many of those narratives are true. I am able to see the good in them that was there."
He wanted to tell her regardless. Should his story push her away, it was better to do it before they have re-established their friendship, although Constance was very fast in returning everything as it used to be between them. She was going to pry every detail, so it was best to tell her everything. "I suppose it began on the day I've been promoted to Commodore. It happened somewhat over a year ago at Port Royal. The Governor had insisted on staging a grand ceremony."
"You were still working at Port Royal!" Constance interrupted happily. "That Governor seems like a man of a good character for making you to agree to a public demonstration. Did he really arrange a splendid ceremony?"
"Which one of these exclamations should I address first?" He was thrown off track. Her interruption changed his mood. Her smile was giving him a feeling opposite of what he had felt when the events took place.
"Tell me about the ceremony first."
James sighed. "It was over the top. I was paraded through an alley of raised weapons to a platform where I've been presented with my new sword. Port Royal is not England, and sometimes life there can be dull. The Governor was in favour of offering the citizens an occasional entertainment."
The memories were unpleasant for him, but it was impossible to sulk with Constance near. She allowed him to detach himself from the events and see them through her eyes. "Unfortunately, the ceremony did not end well as we have intended."
Constance sensed that he was preparing to tell her something that was heavy on his conscience and waited quietly. James withdrew from her again. He clasped his hands together and looked away. She knew that body language. He did that whenever he felt guilty.
"Governor Swann had approached me prior to the ceremony. The conversation was about my feelings for his daughter, Elizabeth. When he had pried a confession from me that I fancied her, he hinted that an initiative from me would be welcome. After the ceremony, I have taken Miss Swann aside to raise the topic of courtship and matrimony with her, but had not been able to give me her answer. It was a hot day and she had trouble breathing due to her restrictive attire. She had fainted and fell from the battlements into the water."
"Did she survive?" Constance was no longer smiling.
"She had been rescued; unfortunately by a man of a dubious reputation. I have intended to jump after her, but one of my lieutenants had stopped me and pointed out that there were rocks below. By the time we ran around to the docks, another man had dived after her and brought her to safety."
Constance was no longer interrupting him, and James ventured a side glace. She was mirroring his posture, looking down at her clasped hands.
"Constance?"
Their eyes met hesitantly, bearing no lies. "Does it hurt you that I have proposed to a different woman? Although we have not had the time to explore our feelings, I believe more than friendship had been developing between us before I've left England. It was a lifetime ago, but it must be unpleasant for you regardless."
She smiled, thinking fondly that it was just like him to find the courage to address the issues that would have been tempting to avoid. She didn't want him suffering unnecessary guilt, even if she wanted to shout that she still had those feelings. "Yes, it hurts a little, but I would have been far more upset had you, believing me to be dead, wasted your life in solitude. I would have felt terribly guilty and would have been more miserable. I am awfully envious that Elizabeth got to see your splendid promotion ceremony and had been proposed by a fine man, but I suppose I can forgive her due to our mutual suffering from the corsets." She was a little amused by his earlier explanation. Far it was for James to talk about lady's undergarments.
He was still unsure that she was all right. Constance smiled brightly at him and reached out to re-establish the contact. "So, tell me, when did she give you her answer?"
He seemed relieved that she wasn't too upset. She realised that he didn't change in this aspect. He was not good at reading women. Sometimes intuitively, sometimes logically he figured out that a woman could be upset or happy, but he didn't distinguish between their subtle changes of moods. He relied on women to tell him the truth, and he had to trust that she felt indeed what she said she felt. Constance locked away any dismay she felt at the mention of another woman James had romantic feelings for, unwilling to spoil a good moment with him.
"She hadn't been able to until she went through being rescued and consequently threatened by a pirate, captured by un-dead crew of skeleton pirates, used as the blood sacrifice by them."
Constance was paying undivided attention to him. Her enthusiasm upon hearing about the un-dead crew and a pirate ghost ship was endearing. She could never resist adding another story to her collection. "Quit smirking and get on with your story," she huffed, "unless you are teasing me."
"I assure you, they were real cursed pirates, hiding a cursed treasure at the secret island called Isle de Muerta. It could only be found by those who had been there before, thus we had to make a deal with a man of a questionable reputation, Jack Sparrow, to get there."
"You are scowling. Was he truly such a bad man?"
"The worst pirate I've ever seen."
She was hanging on to each word. James wanted to make up for upsetting her by bringing up their former relationship, thus he told her how Sparrow had captured the Interceptor.
Constance was laughing and he was scowling when he finished, and that caused her to laugh harder. "Don't be so harsh on a man who was trying to save himself. It isn't exactly easy to do when an entire guard of the port is looking for you."
"Leave it to you to sympathise with a pirate," James muttered, but his indignation was only half-hearted.
She was, however, making it very difficult to be bitter. James reflected upon a saying 'What goes around comes around.' He had mocked Sparrow about his lack of a ship in order to call himself a Captain. The fate had played a joke on him by making him a Commodore with only one ship to command, when his rank demanded at least two; although, Dauntless was worth ten ships ten times over.
Constance's eyes sparkled like the waters of Caribbean on the sunny day when Jack Sparrow got away. Something clicked. James, at last was able to appreciate the humour of that situation. There was no more embarrassment as he let it go. Perhaps that was what he needed, a person who could cast an outside judgement on the events that bound him so strongly; someone who could be fair and kind, like Constance, who was quivering with curiosity.
He told her the rest. He had made many mistakes; as difficult as it was to admit, even mistrusting Sparrow's plan to wait aboard Dauntless for the pirates to come out. Fewer men might have died that night. Had he another chance, he would have done everything differently. He had been a fool. Meanwhile, Constance listened and drew her own conclusions.
"Misfortunes befalling a man do not make him a fool. It is how he handles them that does or does not," she told him after he described Sparrow's successful escape from the gallows. "Knowing you, I believe you haven't slept in three days post the attack on Port Royal because the town had sustained damage and rebuilding efforts had to be organised, because there were wounded who had to be placed somewhere and taken care of, because dangerous prisoners had escaped from jail and they had to be caught and returned to their cell. Then you were planning the most efficient search route for Elizabeth, had a goal to bring back the Interceptor, and attempted to find Jack Sparrow. You have achieved all those aims with the exception of bringing back the Interceptor, but I'm confident you would have secured her too had she not been destroyed. I do not believe that a fool can accomplish all that."
She waited impatiently as he took in her perspective. "However," she teased him gently, "you are being a little foolish by thinking so lowly of yourself. You have even saved Mister Turner."
"I didn't want to save him. I have been offended that after the devastation the Black Pearl had wrecked on Port Royal, he was willing to join the pirates, having seen the violence they were capable of. Elizabeth's passionate defence of him reminded me that I had no right to play favourites. If I went out to rescue her, I had to extend the same favour to him. Otherwise, my earlier words that I serve others would have been hypocritical. I didn't think I could look in the eyes of a woman I wanted to wed without being reminded that I haven't done my duty."
"It wasn't about what you wanted to do, but about what you had to do. People for whose good actions there is no reward, are those who act most morally," Constance told him. She was sure that he had not been expecting a reward for saving another man.
"Yes," he agreed, shamed that he had yet to tell her the worst part of his story. It was the exact principle he had abandoned when he got carried away with the pursuit of the Black Pearl and betrayed God. "I have to tell you…" he began only to be interrupted as the doctor joined them.
"Examination time," Simmons announced loudly. "All visitors must abandon the premises."
"I can help!" Constance exclaimed.
"Absolutely not. We have discussed this already. You are too partial to be his nurse. Not to mention, had you been looking at Mister Norrington, you would have noticed that he has gotten embarrassed by your proposal."
Constance looked at James who, in fact, was caught out with a slight flush colouring his cheeks.
"Out," said the doctor.
"I'll come back to visit you tomorrow," Constance promised. She hesitated, wanting to kiss his cheek, but Simmons shooed her away.
Evidently, there were no secrets in her community. Constance didn't get far from the healing house before the Captain joined her. She regarded him wearily. It was becoming tiresome that everyone expected her to be the mediator.
"Do you know when Simmons will be releasing the Admiral?" he asked her. "The crew is eager to know when they can meet him. They've been pestering me with questions about him sunrise to sunset. Edward sharing all and every detail of what he knows, and telling it in an over-exaggerated style isn't helping. We were thinking that maybe we can have a party once he is out at the hospital with everyone present."
"I don't believe James will be comfortable with the notion. He never liked big parties, at least not in the past. But, I'm sure he will see the practicality of this idea. As for Simmons, you know better than I do, nobody can put pressure on him. He will release James whenever he sees fit."
Her reluctance was lost on the Captain. "I have full confidence that you will be able to give us a warning," he told her.