Part 2: Manifestations Of Everyday Chaos

Notes:

Still not mine. Movies AU.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed/favourited/etc!

The Pearl was underway before Pintel - that's what Gibbs had said his name was - showed up at her cabin with the wash basin and rags. Gibbs had been and gone with a hangover cure for Norrington to drink, and the former Commodore was sat on her bed with his head in his hands, trying to sober up. He had not said a word to her since he sat down.

She put the basin on the desk and the rags next to it, then walked over to the bed and sat down next to Norrington.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, without looking up.

"I told you before," she replied with a soft smile, "I don't know who I'd argue with if anything happened to you."

He huffed a laugh and finally looked up at her. "I believe that was why you saved my life."

She giggled. "You're right, my mistake."

Norrington smirked and stood up. "Thank you."

"For admitting you were right?"

"For helping me."

Banter she could handle; this gratitude, and the look on his face, was something else entirely, so she changed the subject. "If you take off your jacket, I can have someone try to get some of the dirt off while you're washing up." Norrington shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to her, then turned back to the basin. Charlie opened the door and called to the nearest man on the deck to get the jacket cleaned. When she turned back around he had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and was wiping the dirt off his face and neck with a rag. Despite appearing to have spent the better part of a month three sheets in the wind, he clearly had not stopped taking care of himself entirely. At least not if what she saw of his chest was anything to go by. He was in good shape. Before he could see her blushing, she turned to the nearest shelf and busied herself with the books on it.

"Now that we're alone, are you going to tell me what happened?" she prompted.

"I told you," he grunted, sloshing the water in the wash basin. "I resigned."

She turned back to face him and quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not stupid."

"I never said -."

"You might as well have, if you think I believe you spontaneously decided to resign and spend a month living in pig shit!"

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, hands gripping the edges of the table. "After you lost our game-."

"After you cheated?" she reminded him, tongue firmly in cheek.

He sighed, and Charlie winced inwardly. One day she would have to learn to watch her mouth better. "Yes, after I cheated. We were closing in on the Pearl off the cost of Tripoli. And -." Norrington paused and took a few deep breaths. "There was a hurricane," he muttered, bowing his head.

Charlie opened her mouth to prompt him to continue, but closed it immediately. Now was not the time. He looked...haunted. And she knew pushing him would not help. Instead she leaned back against the cabin wall and waited patiently.

"I should have found a port, should've...but I ordered the crew to sail into it." He laughed bitterly. By this time his hands were whiteknuckled on the edge of the table. "They found me floating on a piece of debris two days later, the only survivor. I was responsible for those men and now they're dead. What choice did I have but to resign?"

In her mind's eye she saw a ship burning and heard the screams of its crew. Her crew. Every single one gone. And she was left alive to watch, chained to a longboat while her crew burned, unable to help them. She wished she had never met that Spanish lobcock.

"We've all made bad choices," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Ones that lead to the deaths of over a hundred good men?" he ground out.

She shook her head, then realised he could not see that and admitted, "No." He huffed a laugh and she added, "thirty good women."

Still gripping the table, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her.

Charlie met his eyes slowly and steadied herself to explain. "The only ship and crew I've ever had. All gone because I made bad decisions. The worst part of it is, even knowing the consequences, I'm not sure how many of those decisions I would have made differently or if that would even have made a difference." She blinked back the tears and pushed away from the wall. After taking a moment to breathe, she took a few steps closer to Norrington, then reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

Faster than she would have thought him capable, his hand gripped her wrist and stopped her as his eyes locked on hers.

She nodded her assent and he slowly released her wrist. "Did you want some privacy?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"No," he muttered as his eyes finally left hers and he resumed washing up.

"Are you sure? I don't mi-."

"I said no, Charlotte," he exclaimed with an exasperated sigh as he threw the rag into the wash basin. A frown creased his brow when he turned to face her.

"When you're done washing up, I'll help you remove the wig," she offered in an effort to alleviate the tension.

He nodded and turned back to the basin. "You never told me how you became a pirate." His voice was muffled by the rag as he washed his face.

"What makes you think I haven't always been one?" she teased. He was clearly deflecting, but she doubted either of them were in the mood to continue the conversation.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "Your posture is perfect and I have yet to hear you use expressions like 'ain't' and 'we was', unlike the rest of this rabble."

"Are you always this observant, or only when you're drunk?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Yes," she conceded, "and I'm the only one of us who's done that tonight." When he did not rise to the bait, she sighed. "No, I wasn't always a pirate. My family were...quite well off back home. But my father wanted me to marry a degenerate and I disagreed, so I donned men's clothing, stowed away on a ship, and here I am."

"Not a lot of degenerates amongst the nobility," he remarked.

"You only believe that because you've never, presumably, been a 17 year old girl about to be married off as part of your father's business dealings."

He smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes, and put down the rags. She had almost forgotten what he looked like under the muck. His green eyes shone a little brighter, his skin was a less unhealthy pallor. He was almost himself again, except for the beard and matted wig. If pressed, though, Charlie would have to admit she liked the beard.

"Shall we take off the wig now?"

"Thank you," he said again, trudging to the bed to sit down.

"You are most welcome," she replied with a smile, sliding her fingers under the wig to search for the pins. Under the wig, his hair was much softer than she would have expected. It did not feel grimey or filthy. Perhaps all that filth was a single night's debauchery. If so, it was impressive. The former Commodore closed his eyes and hummed as she threaded her fingers through his hair, searching for and removing pins. "So what ought I to call you?"

Without opening his eyes, he murmured, "Just 'James'."

She smiled and grabbed the last pin from his hair before lifting off the wig and placing it on the side table. "I like just James," she said, smoothing down his hair.

His eyes drifted open and he looked at her strangely for a moment before pulling her down to straddle his lap. Before she could ask what he was doing his lips were on hers. Her hand moved to slap him, but it stopped as soon as it was raised. By Jupiter, when his tongue slipped into her mouth she lost all thought of harming him. His beard scratched gently at her skin as his mouth moved slowly against hers. Her arms wound around his neck and her hands threaded into his hair again while his hands slid down to her hips, each trying to pull the other closer.

It was not like other kisses she had experienced. He did not take or demand, he asked and let her set the pace. Even now the man was impossibly proper. She ground against him, whimpering when he moaned her name.

A loud crash on the deck above the cabin caused them to break apart slightly, foreheads resting together. Charlie turned slightly to face the door to see if anyone burst through it with some sort of emergency. It gave her a chance to steady her breathing. When the door remained blissfully shut, she closed her eyes and muttered, "I'm going to kill Jack."

"I'll help," James added, chuckling. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her jaw.

She brought her eyes back to his and ran her fingers through the scruff of his beard. On closer inspection, she liked it even more. "Why didn't we do that sooner?"

"What?" he began, chuckling as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. His laughter sent pleasant vibrations across her skin. "A Commodore of the Royal Navy and a pirate?"

Charlie froze. Did he just say…? She pulled back a little, then pushed out of his grasp and backed up to the other side of the room. "Is that what you think of me?"

He stood up, confusion on his face. "What, that you're a pirate? You are."

"And you have to say it with such contempt?"

"Charlotte, you have to admit that pirates don't have a reputation for being upstanding -."

"Get out!" she snarled, grabbing his wig and tossing it at him.

He closed his mouth and stared at her, blinking.

"Out!" she shouted, pointing to the door.

After working his jaw for a moment, he shouted back, "gladly!"

She turned away from him and heard the door slam. She realised her cheeks were wet and wondered when the tears had fallen. Why on Earth would he even bother to kiss her if he felt that way? What an ass! She grabbed the nearest thing on the table and tossed it as hard as she could across the room, barely hearing it shatter against the wall.

A knock sounded behind her and she whirled around, ready to give Norrington a piece of her mind. But when she opened it she found Elizabeth on the other side, looking at her strangely. She could only imagine the look on her own face, full of fury and eyes brimming with tears.

"What happened?"

"James Norrington is…is...he's…a...zoilist! And a stymphalist!" she sputtered.

Elizabeth blinked.

Charlie blew out a breath and wiped at her tears. "Sorry," she sniffled. "Where's the rum?" She looked around the room, checking in drawers and cabinets.

"Charlie."

She froze, hand in the small cabinet next to the bed, and stood up. Without turning to look at Elizabeth she said, "He, uh...he kissed me. Then proceeded to remind me how worthless a pirate like me is to a man in the Royal Navy, but he's not in the Royal Navy any longer so it's okay!"

"Oh, Charlie…."

"I'm fine. I should've known better, aye?" she said with forced cheerfulness as she spun around to face Elizabeth. "Now, why are you here?"

Again Elizabeth blinked. "I...Jack suggested we share the cabin…."

"Was that before or after he suggested sharing his again?" Charlie laughed. Before Elizabeth could answer, she continued, "I'll go get a hammock."

She did not wait for a response before heading out to the deck. Norrington was standing on the other side of the deck and looked up at her when she left her cabin. Definitely not ready for that, she thought as she turned away and walked up to the quarterdeck. Unless things had changed dramatically, Jack would keep extra hammocks in a chest secured along the back railing. She bent down to unlock and inspect the chest.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jack's voice came behind her.

"No."

"Really? You took the Former Commodore to your cabin all lovey dovey, now you're both glaring and broody."

"Nothing's wrong, Jack. Leave it be," she muttered, pulling a hammock from the chest.

"Liar."

She stood abruptly and faced him, hammock in hand. "Let it go, or I'll throw you overboard, Jack."

Jack offered a toothy grin. "Oooooh," he mocked. "I might even be afraid, if you meant that."

Shoulder checking him as she stalked past him, she grumbled, "I'm going to bed."

"Sleep tight, don't let the Commodores bite," Jack called.

Charlie tossed him an obscene gesture behind her back as she descended the stairs and headed back to her cabin.