Admiral James Norrington boarded the Ruthless, a relatively new ship that had a mixed crew from the British Royal Navy and the East India Company. It was a ship built for speed and power, with little room for comfort. Norrington avoided looking out at the ocean or at the sky, focusing instead on the ship and crew. The beauty of the sea was too painful for him to behold anymore. "Captain Gillette," Norrington said, greeting the Captain coldly.
The recently promoted Captain Gillette nodded to him. "Admiral Norrington."
"Everything ready for our journey to Shipwreck Cove?"
Norrington swore that he heard someone behind him gasp, but when he glanced around, he saw no one. He turned back to Gillette, who was curiously gazing past Norrington, attempting to see what the Admiral could have been looking at. "Yes, sir," Gillette said quickly. "We are ready to leave Port Royal at your command."
Nodding to Captain Gillette, Norrington said, "Then do so. I'll in my quarters." Gillette immediately began to give the crew orders as Norrington walked away. Norrington headed straight to his quarters, scarcely acknowledging the men he passed along the way. He sat at the small desk in his cabin and began to sift through some papers. They were all nothing but dull East India Company business, but any sort of distraction was welcome to him.
Unfortunately, despite his efforts to concentrate on the boring work, Norrington soon found that his mind was wandering. His hand clenched into a tight fist as he remembered how Lord Beckett had just stood there and watched Jacqueline die. The man had claimed to love her, but he could not have had nearly as much affection for her as Norrington had. Norrington still could not believe that Beckett had allowed, even brought about, Jacqueline's death.
The papers slipped from his grip and back onto the desk as it struck him once again that Jacqueline, the woman he loved, was dead. Norrington put his head in his shaking hands. How could this have happened? Even if he had only been able to see her once a year as they had planned, or never if it came to that, she would be alive at least. Norrington's heart had been torn yet again—but this time, there was no miraculous return of his love, no warm embrace to relieve the pain. She was gone. She was really gone. Forever.
Norrington's hands continued shaking as he put his fingers to his lips. He closed his eyes and instantly regretted the action. The image of Jacqueline in his mind was far too clear—too painful. God, she was beautiful…had he ever told her that? Had he ever conveyed to her how her lovely hair reminded him of the night, how delicate and tempting her skin was to him, how her eyes completely entranced him? Norrington suddenly realized with horror that he was unable to recall what color her eyes were. He thought that they were brown; yet, in his mind they were blue. Damn, did he really pay that little attention?
When he came to think of it, had he ever shown his true love for her? He had told her, of course, but Norrington was reasonably sure that Lord Beckett had also said those three words—the phrase probably had little meaning to Jacqueline. Those nights stolen aboard the Flying Dutchman suddenly seemed ill spent. He should not have been confiding in her with his troubles—he should have been praising everything about her. He should not have been holding back his feelings for so long; he should have told her how he felt about her at every possible moment.
Norrington suddenly remembered something William Turner had told Elizabeth long ago. "I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you." That was likely the wisest thing Mr. Turner had ever said, though that statement had cost Norrington his former fiancé.
A tear escaped Norrington's eye, and he did not bother wiping it away. "Jacqueline…" The name was barely audible as it passed over his lips in a shuddering breath. Oh, how sweet her lovely name tasted on his tongue…
Norrington opened his eyes and stared blankly for a few moments before realizing that he was gazing at the penknife on his desk. He reached out for it and delicately ran his thumb over its sharp edge. He did not cut deeply enough to draw blood, but it did sink slightly into his skin. He held the knife closer to his face, looking at the reflection of his eyes on the blade.
"Death is the only way out of this marriage."
Jacqueline's dark statement resonated in Norrington's mind. In his mind's eye, saw the cuts she herself had made along her wrist. She had been correct—she was free of the engagement in death. But what a price to pay for freedom… Yet even more chilling to Norrington was the fact that Jacqueline had seemed to know that her death was near at hand. The movement of her hand to her throat when Norrington would mention a hanging, her refusal to take any way out…she had known that she was going to die by hanging, just as she had known that Norrington was going to die on the Dutchman at the hands of a pirate. If he had only seen the signs, if he, too, had known of her fate, Norrington would have done so much differently… The blade of the knife in Norrington's hands glinted eerily in the candlelight as he turned it over in his hands, holding it close to his face as he gazed at it.
Death is the only way out…
The blade cut a thin line down his hand and to his wrist before the sharp edge turned over toward his throat….
Norrington's eyes widened and he dropped the penknife onto the desk, his heart racing. He took a few deep breaths, still staring fixedly at the knife. Surely he had not been considering…
But he had.
After a few moments, Norrington put his head in his hands again, shaking from shock as he forced his thoughts to turn to the hanging. He felt ashamed that he had not only failed to try and rescue her (as suicidal as trying would have been), but that he had not even had the courage to watch. He had turned away from the gallows at the last moment. Jacqueline had probably seen him look away just before her death. What had she thought of him in her final moments? Had her thoughts even included him? Tears slowly made their way down Norrington's cheeks.
He reminded himself that Jacqueline was a pirate, and Norrington had long stood by the idea that any person sailing under a pirate flag or wearing a pirate brand deserved to be hung. But not Jacqueline…
No. All pirates deserved death. It was piracy that had caused all this to happen. If her father had not become a pirate, Jacqueline would not have had reason to choose the way of life that led to her death. It was funny how everything seemed to go back to Jack Sparrow. If the pirate were still alive, Norrington would have personally assured that he paid for what he had done to his own daughter. Had Jacqueline not been forced into such a poor life, she would still be alive.
Norrington felt almost guilty as his thoughts momentarily turned to Elizabeth. What of her? She…no, Elizabeth had become a pirate of her own accord; she should die for it. One day she would die for it.
Perhaps Norrington could somehow make up for his lapses, for his moments of sympathizing with pirates. He saw now—Lord Beckett's cause was just. All pirates deserved death, and Norrington was going to do all he could to deliver such justice. But he was not going to go on such a mission, however noble, merely for the Company. Norrington would do it for Jacqueline. He would do it to have revenge upon those who had caused her suffering and ultimately her death.
Norrington sat up straighter, wiping his tears away. He picked up another of the East India Company papers and began to read it, though his mind continued to be occupied with his now reaffirmed purpose in life. Lord Beckett had been correct when he had told him that it was Norrington's destiny to help end piracy. Everything in Norrington's life had been leading to this ultimate goal. Norrington had merely wasted some time attempting to head in the opposite direction.
His first victory would be over the Pearl. He would destroy both the ship and all those aboard. He would then move on to Shipwreck Cove with the Company armada and destroy the heart of the Brethren. Without the Brethren Court, the pirates would scatter, unorganized, unguided, and then the Royal Navy and the East India Company would be able to pick them off one by one with little effort, and Jacqueline would be avenged. Norrington put down the paper and picked up the penknife again, once again running his thumb along the edge of the blade. As he contemplated the pirates' destruction, a sinister smirk curled the side of his mouth.
A thin line of blood appeared where the knife had cut. He rubbed the thick, red liquid between this thumb and index finger, remembering the Blood Oath he had taken with Jacqueline. She would always be a part of him, living in his veins, and thus she would also have her own vengeance upon those who robbed her of her life. Norrington ran his thumb along the edge of the penknife again, cutting a little deeper this time and drawing more blood, yet he felt no pain. Even the hurting in his heart seemed to sting a little less as his conviction fully set in.
Yes, he would have revenge. The knife flashed ominously in Norrington's eyes as his smirk grew into a dark smile.
"For you, Jacqueline," he said quietly. "For you, they will die. Every…last…one." Norrington brought the penknife down on the table in a stabbing motion on this last word, where he left the blade standing vertically in the wood as he picked up the paperwork again, his dark smile lessening, but not fading.
"For you."
