Chapter 6: Developing Separate Paths

Notes:

Movies AU, still not mine, not making any money, for funsies only

This whole chapter is Norrington's POV in one go. I kind of thought, given what happens, it deserved its own chapter. And, despite what Norrington says, the conversation isn't over...

Everything in James's father's office was, unsurprisingly, a shrine to his pride and ego. He had medals on display, ceremonial swords, testimonies to battles he had won. James reached out to touch one of the ceremonial swords and huffed a laugh. It was pristine. Only a man like his father would have weapons intended for display rather than use.

He looked back at the pristine desk, still decorated with monuments to his own achievements, and stopped. A small pendant that he recognised hung from the end of a displayed dagger. It had belonged to his mother, her favourite necklace. He had thought she had been buried with it, but it seemed his father had kept a token from her. Perhaps he was not entirely without heart.

Not that he thought that his father would understand his marrying Charlotte. His father would be as likely to understand that as he was to befriend Jack Sparrow. The thought of the pair of them meeting brought a smile to his face. Tempting though it might have been to introduce them, he had to admit he was not sure who he would be tormenting in that scenario - his father or Sparrow. He huffed a soft laugh and continued inspecting the desk as he tried to imagine what his father would think of his wife. She would meet many requirements - she was beautiful and came from the right family - but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, she would have lost Admiral Norrington. James grinned at the thought. That was exactly why he loved her.

At that moment the door slammed open and his father walked in, barking an order to attention and slamming the door shut. James was saluting with military precision before he even realised what had happened.

"Look at you!" his father growled, looking down his nose. "Do you know how I heard about your embarrassing behaviour? Lord Admiral Bratton. We were at the Olympia club! I was the laughing stock because of you! Luckily Governor Richardson needed assistance with the men stationed here, gave me somewhere in the Caribbean to base my search for you and confirm what I'd heard." He crossed the room and poured himself a small glass of port. "Would've been better off if you had drowned," he muttered around the glass as he took a sip.

The comment caught him off guard. His father had not brought that up in years. Before he could comment, though, his father continued.

"An embarrassing choice, sailing into a hurricane, but at least you'd've gone down with the ship."

The feeling in the pit of his stomach would have toppled him, were his military training not so ingrained. Slowly, his hand came down from his salute and his jaw fell open. Just when he thought he was starting to move beyond his past. "How…?"

A huffed laugh escaped his father. "You think I wouldn't know, boy? Can't even go down with the ship like a proper commander," he grumbled as he put down the glass.

James winced. It was not as though he had not gone down with the ship due to lack of effort or any cowardly action he had taken. He was saved by pure chance alone, found floating on the debris from the Dauntless. The moment he had realised how foolish his order had been, he had joined his men in attempting to save the ship and crew. When the wave came, he had thought it was the end. Whatever miracle had saved him, he had played no part in it. He only wished that same miracle had saved his men.

But his father continued. "You manage to get posted to Port Royal, clean up the settlement, make it civilised, propose to Governor Swann's daughter - who, by the way, would've been a very fine wife, a perfect match! - then you throw it all away by letting a pirate go and chasing that same pirate through a damned hurricane and you couldn't even do that right! What were you thinking? Why would you let Jack Sparrow, of all people, go? Because he saved your fiancée? The same fiancée you let marry a pirate?"

"She was in love with Turner, not me," he supplied meekly. Not to mention that he was not in love with Elizabeth. They were great friends, but nothing more.

"Love? What has that to do with anything?" his father scoffed. "You could've been an Admiral with a proper wife and children to carry on my legacy - our family legacy! - but no. You had to throw that all away! You could've even been the Governor of Port Royal by now!" He turned back to James, opening and closing his mouth once as his gaze dropped. "And what the Hell is that?"

James blinked and followed his father's gaze down to his left hand, where his wedding tattoo was showing prominently. He had been so caught up in feeling sorry for himself, he had forgotten...well, everything. "That's my wedding ring," he muttered, shaking himself out of his misery and self-pity. If Charlotte could see him now, he wondered what she would think. Would she pity him? Or lose her temper at his father?

"A wedding ring? Governor Fitzwilliam's letter mentioned you were married, but this?" he sneered. "What kind of woman would have her husband do such a barbaric thing?"

Definitely lose her temper, he thought to himself as he allowed a grin to slowly spread across his face. He had done horrible things, made horrible choices. But he still had her. She never looked down on him for it, never minced words when talking about his past, and she still loved him. More importantly, she accepted him, mistakes and all.

"What the Hell are you smiling for?"

"Charlotte never asked me to do this, she was just as surprised as you are," he said, inspecting the tattoo. "I did it because when I saw her own tattoo, I wanted to show her how much it meant to me, how much she means to me." He set his features and looked up at his father. "I love her."

His father huffed a laugh. "Fitzwilliam's letter said she's a pirate? Calls herself 'Charlie'? What kind of name is that for a woman? She'll never be a proper wife." He took a seat at the desk. "Who married you? Was it legal? Perhaps we can get you an annulment. I'm certain we can hide this little embarrassment of yours. Gloved hands? Or perhaps we can cut off the finger and claim you lost it in battle…."

"Cut off my finger?" James echoed incredulously. " Do you even hear yourself? Charlotte isn't a mistake, nor is she an embarrassment! She's my wife!"

"Wife," he sneered. "Is she with child?"

"Charlotte doesn't want children," he insisted, his voice getting louder. It was the first time he had ever stood up to his father and he had to admit it felt damned good.

"All women want children, it's their purpose, their reason, if a woman can be said to have reason," the Admiral grumbled. "And what about you? What kind of wife doesn't care what her husband wants! You've always wanted children."

"I don't want children!" he shouted. He paused and blinked, realising he had meant it. He did not want them. Perhaps this confrontation was a blessing in disguise, it was helping him realise who he was without his father. "You've always wanted me to have them, to marry a fine wife and carry on the family name, but you never once asked me what I wanted."

"Forgive me, but I assumed no rational man would want to wed an impetuous pirate who can't produce heirs! Clearly you're not a rational man. I should've disciplined you better and that's my burden, but by God, I will not allow you to disgrace our family name for some harlot who visits brothels in broad daylight!"

He felt his jaw go slack.

"Oh, yes. I know about that. Governor Fitzwilliam's letter was quite detailed. Visiting brothels with your wife! What a disgrace." He sighed irritably. "I set you up for greatness and you threw it all away, threw your whole life away!" He paused. "Have you consummated your marriage yet? Is that why she takes you to brothels?"

"Have we…." James clenched his fists at his sides. At least now he knew the real reason they had been invited to that damned gala. "I am not throwing it away," he muttered, his voice dangerously low. "My wife isn't a harlot. And you're hardly one to talk about visiting brothels!"

"Discreetly!" his father snapped back. "I have never visited one with my wife!"

"You honestly believe she didn't know?"

His father's face went bright red. "That's enough!"

"Yes. It is," he said a little too calmly, standing up a little straighter with his hands behind his back. "You will not belittle my choices or my wife. I am not leaving her, not changing my mind about my life. This conversation is over." He narrowed his eyes and watched his father pace back and forth as he muttered about throwing him in jail.

"It may knock some sense into you to spend a few nights in a small, filthy cell," the Admiral growled as he opened the door and called for guards.

James snorted a laugh. He could almost hear Charlotte saying sense was overrated.

As the guards escorted him away, he heard his father calling for a carriage to bring him to see the Governor, though the guards moved too quickly for him to catch the full conversation. Before he even had time to fully contemplate it, he was in his cell.

A quick glance around the room showed muck coated nearly every surface, mould grew where the muck could not, a few small insects crawled and flew around the building, and the smell from the other unbathed prisoners permeated the air. Tightening his jaw, he breathed shallowly through his nose. He was in the furthest corner cell of four that lined the back of the room, with a ledge running the length of the rear stone wall to serve as a resting place of sorts.

Approaching the window, he looked out over the port. If Charlotte did find him, he would certainly have a good view of the Cutlass coming in. He smiled despite his mood. What was he thinking? Of course she would find him. The woman was nothing if not determined.

How long that would take was another story, though. He supposed if it took longer than a couple of days, he would likely have to escape on his own and head to Tortuga or Shipwreck Cove somehow to get the message out to her. But somebody would have seen him boarding the Defiance. And Charlotte would find that somebody and learn where he had gone. He was quite confident in that. All he had to do was wait and hope the Governor could be reasoned with when presented with letters of marque.

Turning back into the cell, he sighed. He could not stand around all bloody day or until she arrived, so he bent down to the filthy stone and sat, wincing a little at the feel of muck and mould under him.

It occurred to him that he probably should have told his father he and Charlotte were married by Jack Sparrow just to watch him grapple with the knowledge. His mother would have chastised him for it with a smirk hidden behind her delicately gloved hand. Thinking about her made him smile. She had died when he was just a boy, before he had joined the Royal Navy. But he carried her with him every time he opened the book she had given him - Les Aventures de Télémaque. Unfortunately, the original book given to him by his mother had gone down with the Dauntless, but Charlotte had replaced it for him, finding a near exact copy while they were in Tortuga. She refused to tell him where or how she obtained it, though.

His grin stretched wider. That was his wife. Resourceful and kind. And stubborn and foul-mouthed and foul-tempered, when crossed.

There should never have been any doubt in his mind that she would find him, that by nightfall he would be back aboard the Cutlass. All he had to do was wait.