Alive.
James circled his arms around Ashlynne's shoulders and held onto her upper back as he pressed her against his chest. His mouth never left hers; he angled his head in order to increase the pressure and intensity of the kiss and was rewarded with a soft, high pitched moan vibrating from her throat. He wanted to draw her into him, drink her in until he was intoxicated with her essence. Her hands had lost purchase from his wrists and now her arms lay by her sides, as if she were uncertain of what to do in response to his new kind of assault. James sat up, his legs still straddling her waist, and pulled her with him until she was sitting too. They were belly to belly, chest to chest, and he was disinclined to let her go—even for breath.
Real.
When she'd first spoken his name he'd thought her to be an apparition; he'd had those often enough whilst drunk. His hands had first come around her neck so easily, her skin had been soft and warm, and then the self-hatred, the scorn he held against both her and himself, had descended upon him and he'd begun to squeeze the life out of the specter. It was only when she'd reached for his wrists and pulled at them to get him to stop that he'd realized he wasn't dreaming, nor was he drunk, that she was real, and that she was there before him. Even though he'd regret it later, when duty caught up to him, he hadn't been able to stop himself when the instinctive urge to kiss her had overwhelmed him.
Real. Alive.
His less than pleasant conversation with Beckett, his earlier ponderings on the fates of Elizabeth and Will, his current dichotomy of thoughts on duty versus honor, all these things were forgotten in lieu of finding her. He now was only aware of the pounding of his heart, near erupting in his chest, matching in beat with Ashlynne's, her body so intimately connected with his that there was no mistaking it. He was aware of her arms, slowly moving to rest on his shoulders. Her fingertips lightly resting against the base of his neck, their pressure slight but constant, making his body shudder as it cleaved to hers. When one of his hands traveled down to the small of her back and pulled her closer she moaned again, her grip on his neck tightening.
Real. Alive. Need.
This mantra matched pitch and pace with his heart as James rolled forward until Ashlynne was again beneath him. He shifted his weight, one of his legs resting between hers, one of his hands coming up to cradle her face, all parts of them fitted together as matching gloves. He used his thumb, pressing against her jaw, to maneuver her mouth open just enough for him to run the tip of his tongue along the inner seam of her lips. She moaned again, a mewling sound caught deep in her throat, and James took advantage of her weakened defenses. He slid his tongue past her lips and drew it slowly against her own. He did this over, and over, again, each time retreating further back into his own mouth until at last Ashlynne responded in kind.
Real. Alive. Need. Love.
James pressed his waist closer and gently began to rock against her in time with their tongues. He wanted, no needed, her to know how much he sought from her now. Ashlynne's hands moved from his neck and down until they pressed against his lower back, gripping his shirt and the waistband of his trousers as if for support. She tore her mouth away from his, her head rolling to the side to gasp in breaths. James leaned down and drew the lobe of her ear between his lips, gently sucking on it. Another moan and a tighter hold on his waist. He moved further, placing open mouthed kisses down the length of her pale neck until he was at the junction of neck and shoulder. Here, he shifted his weight again, pressing his leg more intimately against her, as he bent forward and gently bit the cord of muscle that connected her neck to her shoulder.
Ashlynne let out a shuddering cry, her hands leaving his waist and racing up to his shoulders. Then, just as James licked away the bite mark, he felt something heavy smash against the back of his head and everything went black.
The unconscious form of James still lying across her body, Ashlynne gulped in much needed air. Her body shook with need. With a growl, she pushed at his body with arms and hips until he rolled off her and lay on his back, his arms and legs cocked at odd angles. Ashlynne grunted and growled some more as she pulled herself onto wobbly legs and stumbled to the window. She threw it open and then fell to her knees, the night breeze playing with the cooling droplets of sweat on her temples.
"Fuck me." She whispered to herself as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the windowsill.
How had they gone from fighting to…to…whatever that had been? Didn't he hate her? Didn't he want to arrest her and toss her to the authorities? Ashlynne opened her eyes and turned her body until she sat with her back against the wall and her legs sprawled in front of her. She studied James' body in the barely-there light, her mind swimming with emotions, sensations, and confusion. She hadn't meant to hit him so hard with her discarded satchel, but things had been escalating far too quickly, and in a direction she'd not been prepared for. Frowning, Ashlynne sighed. She'd very nearly allowed herself to make love to James Norrington, even with all the albatrosses hanging about their necks. How much more would he have hated himself, and her in the process, if she'd allowed things to go as they had been?
She heard him moan and knew that within moments he'd come to. Ashlynne glanced around the room for a possible hiding place of the list but aside from the desk and the chest she could see nothing else. She didn't move, however, and instead stay as she sat until James brought his hands up to his head and moaned again, this time rolling over onto his side.
"I'm sorry." She spoke softly, wincing at how loud her voice sounded now that her ears weren't pounding with her heartbeats. James pulled his hands away from his face and blinked at her a few times before he started to move into a sitting position. "Things were getting' out of hand and I didnae ken what to do and I, well, I hit ye, and I'm sorry for that and," Ashlynne couldn't believe how pathetic she sounded, to her own ears, and even though she knew better she found herself blabbering still, "it isnae that I didnae want ye to kiss me like that, or that I didnae want to be with ye completely, but there's still so much between us and I-"
"Ashlynne." James' voice was gravely and she felt her stomach flutter in response. "Usually when people want to stop what we were doing they merely say so. They don't bash sharp objects against each other's heads."
James could see in the faint light that Ashlynne was dumbfounded. She probably had expected him to rail against her, accuse her, perhaps even try to arrest her again, instead of make light of the fact that she'd hit him upside the head. The throbbing suddenly increased and James closed his eyes to get the world to stop spinning.
"What did you hit me with anyway?"
He heard a rustling and opened his eyes to see Ashlynne pulling a satchel into her lap and open up the flap. She stopped, however, before she pulled whatever it was out. "Before I show ye, I need to ask ye a question."
James raised an eyebrow. The situation should've felt more strange than it did; here he was, sitting on the floor of his quarters, moments after he'd nearly made love to a supposed dead woman, chatting relatively cordially with said dead woman who also happened to be a wanted felon—and both descriptors were due to his own unbending sense of duty.
"I understand why you couldn't have made an appointment to ask said question of me through proper channels of communication, however there could have been better ways of making your presence known in order to ask the question than to sneak into my quarters in the dead of night."
"Ye were the one who decided to attack and ravish me," her voice had dipped lower at the end of her statement, as if she were reliving the sensations of his body atop hers so intimately. James felt his body heat up again just as the slight difference in her voice and had to clench his fists by his side to resist drawing himself near her. He knew well enough, his bruised head proved it, that she would most likely attack him again if he did so. "In any case, I didnae ken how ye would react to my presence so I felt a covert meetin' would be better received than an overt one." She shifted into a cross-legged position and leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees. "Hope told me that she'd found ye near dead some time back, and that Parlan told ye of my curse." James nodded, thankful and ashamed at the same time that Ashlynne had found out about that time without him having to explain it. "I saw ye too, afore ye took off with Sparrow and Elizabeth."
James felt his gut tighten in fear and disgust. She'd seen him then, when he'd been one step away from death only to descend past it into the hell of desperation? "Why-"
He couldn't finish the question but Ashlynne could, "Didn't I approach ye, talk to ye, let ye ken that I was alive?" She scratched the back of her neck and heaved a sigh. It was strange, so see her so nervous and unsure; the previous times they'd been together she'd been the one so certain and he the one struggling. "First ye were unconscious in a pen of pigs, then ye were up and runnin' after Elizabeth, and then the lot of ye were sailin' off after trouble. I didnae feel the need to jump back into yer life, especially since…"
She didn't need to say it. James understood well enough from her posture and tone of voice that she'd felt reluctant to reinstate herself into his life since it had seemed entirely likely that they'd never cross paths again. Perhaps she felt as he did, that despite their great attraction to one another, they'd only ever brought each other pain—and in her case, death. Even at his lowest, he'd hated himself mostly for wanting her, even though he'd known it was for selfish reasons. A true man of honor would wish her the best, even if the best meant that he was not part of her life. He was not a man of honor, at least not in regards to that.
James mimicked her posture by crossing his legs and scooting forward on the floor, careful not to edge too close for fear of another blow. "Then why are you here, Ashlynne?" He watched her close her eyes after his question and he wondered if it was from the question itself, or from the fact that he said her name. He himself felt a strange quivering in his voice whenever he said her name, and that she was present to receive his summons. "What question is so important that you'd risk being near me again in order to ask it?"
"When I was here last, as Miss Davenport, and Parlan and the innkeeper fought," she kept her eyes in her lap as she spoke, as if she were reluctant to bring the past so certainly into the room; was she afraid that the reminders would cause him to call the guards on her as he had then? The sudden image of her lying twisted and bloodied on the ground beneath his window had him scooting forward more, fighting a desperation to touch her and feel her heart beat again. "You were in charge of the investigation of his death, correct?" James nodded, waiting until she returned her eyes to her lap before he inched closer again, their knees almost touching now. "I happened upon his daughter some time back and she told Parlan and I that he'd had a chest of items, where he kept the dagger, and among those items there had been a list." She looked up and frowned when she saw how close he'd pulled himself but made no other reaction before she asked, "Do ye have that list?"
James closed his eyes and recalled the list. He had an impeccable memory for documents and charts, something that had always impressed his superior officers.
Edward Lowe—carnwennan
Charles Vane—caledfwlch
John Rackham—draupnir
Henry Morgan—víðarr
Bart Roberts-ascalon
Henry Every- Andvarinaut
Jack Sparrow—desidero circuitus
Ashlynne Fitzpatrick—Harmonia's necklace
He opened his eyes and nodded, "I have the list in mind but was unable to retain the list in print. I handed it back to the innkeeper's family, along with the other items we'd used to find the culprit."
Ashlynne frowned and he saw her fists tighten. A moment passed and then her grip loosened again and she spoke, "Could ye write the list down for me? Or at least tell me what ye remember of it?"
"Why do you want it?" He gave into temptation and lowered one of his hands to rest upon her knee. He felt her muscles tense in response but she made no move to dislodge his hold. "Are you going to use it to harm others or steal something from someone? What are you after?" He set his other hand on her other knee and squeezed lightly. "Tell me the truth, Ashlynne, or else I will not help you."
Ashlynne stared at his hands on her knees for a silent moment before she raised her eyes to meet his. He thought he spied some sort of affection lurking there in her gaze but then it changed, hardened somehow, and she finally withdrew the object from her satchel. He drew back from her when he saw it to be the chest.
"How did you," he stumbled over his words as his mind raced between anger and confusion, "why did you-"
"I donnae like bein' backed into a corner James, nor do I like havin' somethin' I need withheld unless I comply." James snorted; finding her words ironic since it was exactly what she was doing to him. "I will give ye this back if ye tell me what's on the list." He started to lean forward and she leaned back, pulling the chest off to her side, away from his reach. "I will also not ask after what sort of deal ye've struck with Beckett in order to get back what ye lost after the hurricane, if ye will not ask why I need the list." She tipped her head down and gave him a look that made him want to squirm as if she'd already judged him with her knowledge. "I think it's best if we not ken these things of each other."
James contemplated whether or not he'd be successful at grabbing the chest from her without coming to further harm but then his mind replayed the instances where he'd seen how fast she could fight, and how ruthless she could be, and he thought better of it. With this in mind, he slowly stood and went to his desk. He felt her eyes upon him as he quickly jotted down the list, or at least of half of it. When he handed it to her she frowned.
"This isnae everythin' James. Ye havenae written down the items only the names." She handed the list back as she too stood. "The items please."
James held out a hand, "The chest first."
He watched as she shifted the chest in her hands in contemplation. She most likely was weighing her options as he had his. He couldn't blame her, her distrust of his intentions or whether or not he'd follow through. So far he'd surprised himself with how compliant he'd been with her wishes, with listening to her, as well as with his LACK of desire to have others know of her presence. The idea of having her thrown into prison, knowing that they'd sentence her to hang, and for her to wake up buried in a casket, had his stomach curdling in disgust. He would not, could not, do that to her.
"I cannae break the curse without those items." Her voice was soft and James had to tip his head closer to hear her.
"I thought the dagger that you and Parlan murdered for was the answer to that." He saw her wince at his subversive accusation and he immediately regretted saying it. He had no right to throw accusations of any kind at her, not after he'd killed her twice, and then made a deal with the devil to try to reclaim some semblance of honor for himself.
Ashlynne nodded then held the chest towards him, "We did too but apparently that isnae true." She shook the chest when he didn't immediately grab it. "The items." She brought her eyes up to meet his and he saw desperation. He felt embarrassed for her. How much did her pride hurt, coming here and asking him of all people for help? "Please." The word fell heavy between them and again he felt a surge of self-loathing well up inside him. She should not ever have to say that to him.
James turned, leaving the chest hanging in the air between them, and went back to his desk. He quickly filled in the rest of the list before returning. He retrieved the chest from her hands, relishing the brief contact their hands made in the exchange, then shifted it under his arm as he handed her the list.
"I am to serve as liaison between Lord Beckett and Davy Jones for the duration of our next mission." Ashlynne looked up from studying the list at his admission. "For the security of the East India Trade Company, this alliance has been made."
One corner of Ashlynne's lips quirked upwards, though the half smile looked far from friendly. "The ends justify the means, I hear from these words." She folded the paper and put it in a pocket inside her coat. "Do I also hear the bendin' of a tree, Admiral Norrington, or the breakin' of one?"
So she did know then, what Beckett had awarded him in return for the chest. He winced at her words and he saw the smirk replaced with what looked to be a sincere smile, albeit a sad one. He was thrown off guard when she stepped closer and brought her hands up to frame his face. They studied each other's features for a moment, both lost in his or her own thoughts, until Ashlynne broke the silence first.
"Be ye careful, Admiral, of how far ye bend. E'en a pliable tree breaks if bent too far." Her smile turned bitter. "Take it from someone who kens this intimately."
He opened his mouth to reply but was quieted, in mind and body, when Ashlynne placed her lips against his. Unlike earlier, this kiss was soft, unhurried, similar to those kisses shared between parting lovers. When James moved to pull her closer with his free arm she stepped away, her hands coming down to rest on his chest, as if to hold herself away and keep him away as well.
"I'm nay certain it would be wise to see each other again." She continued to shuffle backwards, towards the open window. "But I do wish ye health and success." She paused at the window, one leg thrown out and one leg still on the floor of his quarters. "I," she nibbled her lower lip in uncertainty before she spoke again, "I forgive ye." She brought her eyes to meet his again and he saw them bright with unshed tears. "I hope ye can bring yerself to forgive me as well."
Before he could respond, telling her that he had, she was gone through the window. James hurriedly set the chest down on his desk and moved to the window. He was loathed to look down but he did so and finding no sign of her body he glanced upwards, his breath coming out in a sigh of relief when he spied her form scurrying up a rope. He thought he saw another form waiting for her at the top but could not be certain, they both disappeared from view too quickly.
He closed the window and latched it, drew the curtains together, and returned to his bed. As he lay back down, a selfish part of his brain recalling the feel of her lips and taste of her skin, imagining what it could've been like to do those things with her in bed beside him, he heard her words, "I forgive you," echo inside him. He hadn't known he'd needed to hear her say that, he hadn't known so much of the weight of his past sins would lift from a mere three words, but he fell asleep with a smile and for the first time in what seemed a lifetime he did not dream of death.
