'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney.

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"Are you sure you ought to be out there at this time of the night?"

"Of course I ought to, James. The water's lovely!" By way of demonstration, Jack swept a hand over the surface, splashing up a glowing blue frill.

Norrington, standing on shore about fifty feet away, conceded the literal truth of that statement- he'd never seen a brighter display of ocean phosphorescence. Ghostly-blue microorganisms were lighting up every disturbed patch of water, glimmering from ripples, flaring in the curls of breaking waves, and outlining a certain skinny-dipping pirate.

Said pirate was taking obvious delight in his illuminated swim. Sparrow turned on his back, kicking up an impressive eruption of blue-glitter spray, then rolled and dove with a flash of heels and buttocks. Bright streamers, scintillating along arms and flanks, marked his underwater course until he noisily surfaced, shaking showers of aquamarine sparks from his mane. Lively and playful as any seal.

The Commodore continued to keep watch, almost tempted to go in himself, but the air temperature was too low. At least for anyone lacking the body heat, and impulsiveness, of a seven-year-old.

"Jack! I really think you should come in now. If I'm getting chilled..."

"Always knew ye were a cold-blooded bloke!" was Sparrow's cheeky response. But he eventually turned and stroked for shore. Wading from the fiery surf, the dripping knave trotted to the beach crest and scooped up his small pile of shed garments. He was about to start inland when the Commodore cleared his throat, loudly.

"What?" Norrington folded his arms, regarding his companion sternly. Sparrow pouted- well in keeping with his behavior this evening- but to no avail. "Oh, verra well!" Dropping the other clothes, Jack tugged on his short breeches, and mockingly performed a runway model's pirouette. "Theer- does this meet with yer approval?"

"As much as anything about you can."

They proceeded up the pebbly path towards the house. Jack was still sulky. "I really don't see why it matters. 'Not like there's any wenches in the vicinity to offend or overexcite."

"Cavorting about like a savage makes for a most unseemly spectacle. Nudity is a practical condition for swimming, but..."

"I've never found that aspect of savages objectionable. An' it isn't that long a walk, is it?"

They had reached the pool terrace; unlit but receiving adequate illumination from the house lights. Sparrow stepped into the shower stall, shutting the door to conceal everything between shoulders and calves. Seconds later he extended his breeches over the top edge- held oh-so-properly between thumb & forefinger with a raised pinky- and dropped it into the adjacent laundry basket. "Now, if you'd prefer ta maintain the current acceptable level of civilization, 'twould be advisable to fetch me a robe an' a couple towels. If you would be so kind," Jack added, twisting the faucet.

Norrington obligingly stepped to the pool-side bin and removed the requested items, donning a robe himself to keep off the chill. As he hung the terrycloth garments onto the stall pegs, James eyed the rippling pool. It did look more appealing under starlight, though not enough to tempt him.

"I'm puzzled as to why you maintain this swimming facility at all, if you so prefer the ocean."

Jack answered whilst wringing his mop under the shower flow. "Because it's expected of anyone in my financial bracket. Also fer the entertainment of visiting business associates, some of whom are so afeared of the wildlife, or of gettin' a bit of salt in their hair, they'd sooner swim in the bilges than the sea." Sparrow snorted derisively, frowning towards the pool. "The thing's been lookin' a bit greenish. I should call the Boyers back soon."

"And who are the Boyers?"

"My maintenance staff. Hennrick, Ayida, an' their four hardworkin' whelps; Bijou, Zac, Loufie an' Agwe. Originally from Haiti. Their older boy got into a spot of serious trouble there, obligin' them to relocate in a hurry." Jack turned to rinse his back. "The six of 'em reside here most of the time, takin' care of the grounds an' housecleanin', as well as the bloody pool."

"I'd thought, all those machines..."

"... can not perform every task, James. Did you not wonder what that second dwellin' beyond the shed was for?"

"Inasmuch as I thought about it, I supposed it was to store more of your endless collection of travel souvenirs."

Jack switched off the shower, reaching over the wall to grab a towel. "No, 'tis a human habitation. Theer on paid vacation in Montserrat jus' now, until you're sufficiently recovered an' confident ta deal with additional residents."

"I believe I can handle that now. How do you plan to explain me?"

Sparrow's voice was a bit muffled under the terrycloth sheet. "I told 'em you're an old acquaintance o' mine, that you've had an accident what's left you physically an' mentally traumatized, an' you need some quiet recuperate time apart from any unfamiliar folk. In other words: I told the truth."

"Very nearly. Apart from my injury being an 'accident'."

"Even that's accurate in it's essentials." Jack began winding the other towel about his sodden hair. "Bootstrap weren't in anythin' like his normal mind when he skewered you. Seems the forced servitude aboard the Dutchman was pillagin' his brain. Just a few days afterwards, he attacked Will- his own son. Non-fatally, but 'tweren't fer lack of tryin'."

James blinked. "You mean Will Turner? That fanatical crewman was his father?"

Having shrugged on the robe, Jack emerged from the stall. "Aye. Bootstrap Bill, aka William Turner Senior. Former crewman and friend o' mine. The story of how he ended up on the Dutchman jus' might lead you to conclude he's done sufficient penance."

Norrington's hand went to his midsection, clutching fabric over his new scar- still red, but much smaller than he had any right to expect from a 'lethal' injury. "I bear him no grudge. The man was obviously deranged."

"If it's any additional consolation, I had it from Will Jr. that, after the curse was broke an' sanity restored, Bootstrap was properly regretful about doin' you in. Mostly 'cause he'd seen how it'd upset Lizzie." Jack was sure he detected a pleased glint in James' eye. "I feel like stayin' out here a bit longer- what say you?"

Norrington straightened his robe. "I shall too. I'm feeling much warmer now."

"Fancy a snack?"

At James' nod, Sparrow moved towards the little outdoor refrigerator, leaving Norrington to ponder this revelation.

This was the first time he'd heard William's father was still alive... that is, alive at that time. Jack hadn't included that detail when he'd given James a brief account of what became of Elizabeth and William. The two had been married at the height of the battle against Beckett's forces, but shortly afterwards Will had dispatched Davy Jones' heart, so had been obliged to captain the Flying Dutchman for a decade. After that, he'd rejoined Elizabeth on land, and they'd spent the rest of their lives together. They had successfully raised "three verra fine whelps", and died in their seventies. Norrington was glad for them... at least, as glad as one could be for people long dead. Now, he was reading new implications into Jack's statement that the couple had chosen to pass away at sea.

Sparrow returned, bearing a small golden bottle and an opened bag of M&Ms. He shook out a few of the latter for himself, knowing rum and chocolate was a pleasing flavor combination, and handed the rest to James. The two sipped and chewed in companionable silence, regarding the pattern of stars peering through night-blown palm fronds, and distant waves flickering like blue neon tubes.

"Do you happen to know what became of Bootstrap, after his son completed his tenure?"

If Sparrow had been caught off guard, he didn't let on. "Aye; Will explained. Fer those first ten years, young Turner's talent fer bloody pigheaded dedication was needed ta clear the backlog of deceased, which'd built up through the years of Jones' negligence. Once that had been dealt with, a sailor of more ordinary above-average abilities could handle the captaincy. Bootstrap volunteered ta take over, allowin' his whelp an' bonnie Liz ta live happily, if not ever after, at least fer one long lifetime. Last I heard, Bootstrap was still holdin' that position. Should you happen ta make yer final crossin' whilst at sea, you'll likely have a chance to get his apology in pers..."

Out of nowhere, Jack smacked his own cheek, sloshing the rum bottle. "Buggerin' hell! I jus' recollected somethin' else Will told ta me! You might want to sit down fer this, James."

Though he doubted it was necessary, Norrington took a seat at the edge of a lounger. Jack sat next to him, downing a good swallow of liquor.

"Captain Turner's first assignment was ta collect the immortal remains of them who'd perished in our skirmish with the EITC. When relating this to me, he mentioned there'd been one puzzling occurrence. Or rather, non-occurrence. They'd never found soul nor body of yer own fair self. Will could only assume Calypso, or one of her ilk, had collected you fer special dispensation, on account of the brave an' self-sacrificial way you were scuttled."

To himself, James admitted it was just as well he was sitting. "It appears Mr. Turner was correct about the 'special dispensation'. Just sadly deluded about who was responsible."

Jack gave his former adversary a lopsided grin. "This ought ta make you feel better about bein' here. Apparently, 'twas fated ta be."

James wasn't altogether sure how he felt. "Be honest, Jack: did this statement of Turner's have any effect on your choice?"

"None whatsoever! I'd forgot it until jus' this minute. Which is no regret! 'Tis one of the most oft-repeated lessons of the Greek Myths, that theer's naught but trouble ta be had from gettin' involved in the fulfillment of prophecies. Best to let 'em take care of themselves."

Another possibility occurred to Norrington. "What about your time-transversing friends? Are they equipped to perceive such, inevitabilities?" Even in the dim light, James recognized the sudden shuttered look closing over Jack's expression. "Is it really so dangerous for me to know that?"

"We've been over this before, mate. It's not that I mistrust you, specifically. My accord with them is, neither of us tells anybody anythin' about the other, beyond that bare minimum I've already revealed to you. They require secrecy fer the same reason I do. We both face abysmal prospects if discovered."

"A high probably of being exploited- perhaps brutally," James specified. "Being at risk myself, I can sympathize. But you can hardly blame me for being curious about them. I've developed some theories..."

"Theorize all ye want. Jus' don't ask me to confirm or deny any of 'em. Given reason, I am actually capable of keepin' me word."

Mention of those 'beings' was one of the few things which consistently brought Jack's more-mature self to the fore. Perversely, this tended to rouse James' less-mature self. Now he couldn't resist showing off what he'd manage to deduce.

Popping the last few M&Ms into his mouth, Norrington continued. "I do not request confirmation, but thought you might be interested. My theory is, the 'invaluable service' you performed for these beings involved preserving their anonymity. You shielded them from a threatened exposure, or undid one which had already occurred. Who better, than a man with centuries of practice at just that kind of subterfuge?"

It was undeniably gratifying to watch Sparrow's face twitch with the same annoyance James so frequently experienced. "Theer's no need ta flaunt yer outstanding powers of deduction to me, Commodore. I've been aware of it ever since that occasion when you figured out the exact date the Tarquin would be makin' berth at Guanaja. Not every Naval mind could've put the clues together. You have my complements, albeit a bit late."

A rather obvious effort to change the subject, but James allowed it. Ambushing Captain Lyle Thurgood's ship had been one of his most successful pirate hunts, and he was pleased somebody remembered. "So you don't resent my eliminating one of your colleagues?"

Jack's lip curled. "I held no high opinion of Thurgood. The bastard made a point of bein' cruel to wenches. I hope you know I never favored that."

James' tone was grim. "That was one hanging I attended with no regret." He assumed it went without saying, that he'd felt more regret at Jack's.

/ But there's no need to mention it aloud. He probably won't enjoy the reminder. Sparrow survived, and that's all that matters... Good lord, I'm starting to think just like him! /

Jack was already pondering other matters. He tapped his chin, as he commonly did when 'havin' a thought'.

"You know, James, once yer ready ta move on ta some less-frivolous profession than reenactor, you might consider puttin' yer talents towards doin' detective work. Theer's still rogues an' miscreants ta be hunted down. Though a lot fewer of 'em are eligible fer execution."

Norrington was aware of this- modern laws and legal systems had been a central focus of his internet studies. "I hope you know, the opportunity to deliver criminals to the gallows was never my primary motivator. My satisfaction came from affording protection to ordinary citizens. To that end, I have, indeed, been researching other positions. One possibility would be the United States Coast Guard."

Jack nodded approvingly. "Marine rescue an' law enforcement- aye, that'd fit your vocation! Perhaps especially their Investigative Services division. You are aware they require USA citizenship?"

"I've established they accept naturalized citizens, and I am perfectly willing to undergo that process."

"I could save you a lot of time an' trouble, if..."

Norrington cut him off. "Sparrow, I was willing to let you employ a forger to produce my British passport and birth certificate because that was the only available means. And because, with the exception of my birth year, those documents are a truthful representation of my status. But there's no need to resort to illegal methods to alter my citizenship. Unlike you, I have a strong preference for doing things above-boards."

Sparrow pouted a bit, tugging the wrapped towel from his damp hair. "Suit yerself. Anyway, the bigger obstacle might be yer need fer detailed familiarization with the operations of motor-powered ships."

"I'd been meaning to speak with you about that. You did mention you own some vessels other than the Lady Buccaneer."

Jack caught on at once. "Aye! You could get work experience aboard my most up-to-date yacht, the Charming Murderess. Mind, ye'll have ta start at midshipman level."

"I would expect nothing else... did you say Charming Murderess?"

Jack suddenly sagged, looking much older. "There's a tale behind that. Not one guaranteed ta warm the heart."

"I gathered as much. Then why did you choose it?"

"'Twas jus' habit, really. Fer some while now I've been namin' all my ships after one particular wench."

James considered the monikers of the two Jack-owned ships he knew of. Something clicked.

"It seems there is, or was, more to Elizabeth Swann than I ever suspected."

"You have no idea, mate." Though he spoke without rancor, Jack also drained the rum bottle with one gulp. At this late hour he was more vulnerable to the depleting effects of unpleasant memories, and it showed.

Norrington shifted closer to the drooping pirate, until their shoulders touched. Jack leaned wearily against him. James allowed it.

"Don't mean ta make her sound worse'en she was. 'Tis been a long day, such as sometimes brings out the 'bad humours'." Jack tilted his head to stare wistfully up at James' face. "I don't think I've said so, Commodore, but, fated or not, I am happy to have you here."

"And I am not unhappy to know that," James replied matter-of-factly.

Sparrow took that in the spirit intended. He relaxed more heavily against James' shoulder, eyelids falling to half-mast, emitting a peaceful sigh. Norrington sighed too, knowing what was likely to follow.

It did. A few minutes later, Jack was lying curled on his side, head pillowed on James' leg. That daft pirate didn't take much longer to fall asleep than he did to wake up.

James idly fingered the damp dreadlocks, pondering his best course of action. He felt disinclined to disturb his friend's obviously-needed slumber, or to leave him on the lounger on such a cool night. Fortunately, Sparrow was relatively small, so the third option- carrying him inside and putting him to bed- presented no real difficulty.

After pulling back the sheets and setting his charge down, Norrington considered leaving the robe on. But, anticipating Sparrow could become entangled during the night and wake up squawking, he relented. Like a missionary in reverse, he converted Jack to his preferred 'savage' state before tucking him in.

"Just don't expect me to do this every time you stay up so late," James murmured. "You're too old by far, to require a nanny. Even if you don't always act like it."

Bestowing a last fond look, the ex-Commodore turned off the light and retired to his own room.

In the sheltering darkness, Jack smiled contentedly.

---

FINIS

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The rare and beautiful phenomena of 'ocean phosphorescence' occurs during blooms (sudden population explosions) of bioluminescent plankton, particularly dinoflagellates. Possibly as a defense against approaching predators, any nearby disturbance in the water provokes them to luminesce, producing 'cold light' of blue or blue-green color.