"It can't be." Norrington said quietly, staring up into Will's eyes. "You're dead. I saw you die." His heart hammered in his chest, and he'd completely forgotten the pistol shoved up against his throat.
"I was dead." Will responded coldly. He looked down upon the man he had once thought of as a friend and ally, but not after what had happened. He'd been betrayed, and if there was one thing he couldn't stand, that was it. "Just like you wanted me to be. Just like Jack is now." Hurt crossed his features.
"Jack…Jack Sparrow is dead?" James stuttered, grasping the arms of the chair. "How?"
His response was to be slammed against the chair. "Don't give me that. You knew that Tortuga is a sanctuary city. The Navy has no jurisdiction there, but you didn't care. You ordered your men to go in there and find him. Then they shot him in the back, like the cowards they are." His eyes were full of anger, and he could see the fear in James's face as well.
"I never did anything. I understand the rules of a sanctuary city. I would never do such a thing." He protested.
"But you did. Do you know what it's like to watch your best friend, your only ally left in the world, die in your arms?" He yanked Norrington to his feet, hand grasping the commodore's collar tightly. "So don't lie to me."
"I'm not. You have to believe me." He held up his hands. "Something's going on here, and we're both in the middle of it." Will frowned, staring if him as if gauging whether it was a trick or not.
"What are you talking about?" He backed off slightly, motioning with the pistol for James to sit down in his chair while he himself sat on the edge of the desk.
"When did Jack die?" James asked bluntly.
"About three months ago." Will said quietly, staring at the floor. James leaned forwards.
"Before I say anything, you have to know, I fought for your release. But they went over my head, got the council to override my decision." He said, sincerity in his voice. He watched as Will's fingers trailed against the scar on his neck. That was why it seemed so important. The rope must have dug into his neck when he'd been struggling for air.
"Whatever you say." The tone of his voice made it clear he wasn't about to believe a word that James said to him.
"I'd prove it to you, if the papers hadn't been stolen." He needed Will's trust.
"Look, just say what you have to say."
"There's something going on here, in Port Royal. I can't exactly say what yet." He got up, then stopped, but Will made no movement, the pistol resting on his knee, finger around the trigger.
"First, your body disappeared, but that's no longer a mystery, as you are sitting right here. Then, when I got back to my office, all the papers from your trial had gone missing. Evidence, witness statements, everything. Even the order for you death." He started pacing. "Then there have been attempts on my life."
"You make a lot of enemies. It's bound to happen. Don't see what's so special about it."
"They started after I married Elizabeth." Will's head shot up. A mixture of emotions was written on his face, hurt, anger, sadness.
"I still don't see what you're getting at."
"Don't see, or don't want to see? There is something happening here, and like I said, we're both in the middle of it." He muttered. Will got to his feet.
"You have nothing. You're just trying to give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you for killing my best friend."
"You wouldn't."
"I would. People change, James. I've changed. That's what happens when you die falsely accused."
Both men stood up straight, looking each other in the eye. The tension was thick in the air, and at any moment, just one thing could make it snap.
Like a torch being thrown through the window and landing a few feet away. Both of them turned around, watching as the desk caught first, the fire spreading rapidly, hungrily eating up wood and paper. James grabbed his coat, trying to put out the flames when another torch was thrown through the window.
He was surprised when Will grabbed his arm, and dragged him to the door. "You can't fight it, its spread too much. Come on." He grabbed a hold of the knob, wrenching it around, but it refused to open. He pushed harder.
"What's wrong?"
"Your door. It's stuck." James joined him at the door, and they both pushed.
"There's something against it." He muttered, hearing something scrape against the floor. He stood back. "We have to use some force." Will joined him, and on the commodore's count, both launched themselves at the door. It slid open a few inches. Backing up, they repeated the motion. Finally, the door flew open, spilling them both out into the hallway. Will sat up, pistol out and looking up and down the dock for intruders. But not so much as a shadow even moved.
"What the hell is going on here?" He coughed into the sleeve of his coat, as James got to his feet. He glanced around as well, before looking down at Will.
"Welcome home."