Title: Between Wind and Tide

Author/Pseudonym: Ruby Isabella

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The following is fanfiction based on a property owned by Disney.

Summary: Norrington returns to Port Royal after long absence

Notes: Sequel to "A Windward Tide." Also, you might worry at times that this is not slash, but it is. Really. Cross my heart. Finally, it takes place some years after PotC.

7.

"When should we do it?" she asked after breakfast.

"Well, um...." Part of him didn't want to be rash, but at the same time that part of him could pose no good argument against the marriage, apart from the obvious, which he had already been willing to give up once to marry Elizabeth, so why not now? "...anytime?"

"I would hate to do it in this weather. It's so dismal."

"When the weather clears then."

"On the other hand, a wedding, even a small one--I don't need anything formal again, just you and me, Estrella.... Where was I? Oh, on the other hand, a small wedding could be just the sunshine I need in this dreary weather. It feels like a weight constantly pressing down on me. Doesn't it you?"

He nodded absently. Marriage. Being linked to someone, under God, under the law. Like the sea, she would always be there for him. But also, like the sea, marriage, women...Elizabeth...they all had their mysteries. His gaze took in her body; his mind wondered what one did with a woman's body, exactly.

Was it true that they got no pleasure from love-making? He shifted, remembering her hand on him that first night.

"The sooner the better," Elizabeth said. "Do you agree?"

His focus returned to the moment. "Don't we need Will declared.... You know."

Her expression changed, but Norrington wasn't sure how to read it. Her skin seemed to tighten over her cheekbones, and hollows appeared both beneath them and her eyes.

"Right," she said. She twisted her fingers. "Right. I wonder how long that will take." She didn't seem to be speaking to him, but to herself. Her voice had an inward quality to it.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up. "He's already been declared missing. The rest shouldn't...."

"I'm sorry." He hated bringing Will up.

"You apologize too much."

"Yes."

A silence stretched between them until finally Norrington cleared his throat. "So, once that's done, we'll...we'll be free to marry."

"Yes."

"It could take a while. We may have to wait a certain amount of time before we can even start the proceedings."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose that might be the case. I'm sorry," she said suddenly, pulling her handkerchief out.

"Sorry? For what?"

She dabbed at the corner of one eye. "I couldn't stand to lose anyone else, not so soon. Not until I'm an old woman, please." This last was a whisper, and a plea to God, not to him.

He slid to the floor. Kneeling was something he was still able to do; he'd gotten plenty of practice during the months he'd spent--without his makeshift crutch--in a Portuguese jail waiting to learn what they would do with him.

He took her hand. "Elizabeth, you're not losing me. I'll be right here. If it takes a month, a year, a decade...."

She sniffed. Her eyes were wet, but she smiled. "I'm being silly, I know. I'm sorry."

"You're not being silly. I understand." He had her hand in both of his. So delicate. So small. He pressed his lips to the back of it, then his forehead. A cold image of arriving alone in London, knowing no one, having no place to go and no purpose to pursue, twisted his stomach with the thought of the mistake he'd almost made. He would find a purpose here in Port Royal, with Elizabeth at his side. Together they'd pull out of the past, finally, and put together a future.

~~~

"Look! Look what I've got." Elizabeth breezed into the room, trying to at once peel off her gloves and show him the papers she held clamped under her arm.

Norrington used his crutch to pull himself up from the chair.

"Here, look." Crumpling the gloves in one hand, she pulled the papers free and thrust them forward.

"What is it?" He flipped through the pages, but Elizabeth's excitement made it impossible to take in the words. He looked at her, waiting.

"A week. We can do it in a week."

His eyebrows went up. He looked back at the papers.

"A week." She moved toward the window as her fingers worked the buttons on her coat. "With any luck, a week will be all we need for this weather to turn around." She whirled. "Oh think of it, James! We'll be married!"

"I...." He shuffled the pages again, then looked up once more. "I really don't remember you being this excited about marriage the first time we thought we might have a go at it."

A touch of the rosyness in her cheeks paled. She said nothing.

"Right," he said, looking back down at the crisp pages. "You didn't actually want to marry me that time."

"Oh, I'm sorry James. It was a different time."

"No, it's all right. I can handle being second choice. I _was_ second choice, right? Sparrow wasn't in the running, too, was he?"

She smiled, shaking out her gloves. "Now do I strike you as that foolish?"

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Well I'm not. And now I'm going to go put these things in the closet. Is Estrella out?"

"I think so. Speaking of Sparrow...."

"Yes?"

He followed her to the coat closet. "You said you had him try to talk Will out of going."

She paused for half a second with a wooden hanger in her hand as though thinking. Then: "Yes. Yes, I did." She draped the coat on the hanger. "Why?"

"This is going to sound...well, silly...."

"What?"

"Well, when he failed to talk Will out of it...."

"Yes?"

"...did he join him?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh heavens no."

Norrington let out a breath he hadn't realized was holding.

"You know Jack: nothing in it for him, he's not interested." She shut the door to the coat closet.

Yes, he knew Sparrow all right, and knew pretty well the types of things the man was interested in--anyone in a skirt. Or trousers. And the more difficult to woo, to use Sparrow's terminology, the better. His stomach soured at the memory of Sparrow's brown fingers dancing across the back of his hand. Once.

"Whatever happened to old Jack anyway?" he said feeling rather better knowing that Jack and Will hadn't sailed off the face of the earth together.

"Oh, I don't know. He hasn't been around these parts in ages." Dropping onto a chair in the parlor, she said, "Likely he's traveled to the other side of the earth, ever in search of treasure. I could send word out, invite him to the wedding...."

"That's all right, thank you."

She smiled. "Have a seat. We have plans to make."

~~~

Darkness crept into the parlor, chasing the shadows across the room until they finally gathered in groups at the edge of the circle of light thrown off by the fireplace.

Norrington had the sofa; Elizabeth a chair. A cup and saucer, compliments of Estrella, were balanced on Norrington's knee.

Wedding plans had been made, as well as tentative plans for their lives post-wedding. Now a silence had settled between him and Elizabeth. He lifted his tea to his lips.

"You're a virgin," Elizabeth said suddenly, turning a sparkling eye toward him.

He almost spilled his tea. "Yes. Yes, you could say that." His cheeks grew hot. He certainly wasn't going to explain the truth of the matter; if she wanted to equate his never having slept with a woman with virginity, he wouldn't argue otherwise.

Allowing her to think that way had the advantage of giving him an excuse for the awkwardness he imagined might happen on their wedding night.

Certainly the wedding night wouldn't be difficult, he told himself. Hundreds of thousand of men had managed to bed women--possibly that many men in just the past year. Once he got the trick of it, it would be fine. How different could women be from men, anyway?

His mind went blank at the question. Apart from bosoms and some private bits he'd heard sailors speak of, he had no idea.

"Tell me. Are you going to hold onto it until your wedding day?" she asked.

"Hold...uh.... I suppose if I've gone this long...."

With a nod and a secretive smile, she said, "All right." Then she set her teacup and saucer on the table beside her chair. "So."

He watched her come toward the sofa, turning his head to continue watching as she settled beside him with one leg tucked under her skirts.

"What about men?"

Panic jumped in his belly.

"Men?" The teacup rattled against its saucer. He clamped it silent with his other hand.

"Men. Were there any besides Will?"

The hand doing the clamping slipped and took with it the cup.

"Damn!" He pulled free of her, letting the spilled cup and the saucer slide to the soft, grabbing his crutch, pulling himself to his foot. "Ouch. Hot. Damn." His face, he was sure, was a shade of red far darker than the flames in the fireplace.

"Oh no, James. I'm sorry. That was all my fault. Are you all right?"

"Am I awake?"

"What? Of course you're awake. Why--"

He rubbed the wet stain on his trousers. The skin beneath still smarted.

"James?"

"What are you saying?" he asked finally, pulling his shoulders back, lifting his chin.

"What--?"

"About me. Will. What-- Good God, what are you saying?"

She started to shake her head, slowly.

"What?" he asked.

She rose from the couch. He scuffled back a step as she approached, but what was he afraid of? He stopped, his heart racing, and her fingers touched his chest.

"I told you. I know about that."

"About what?"

As her fingers curled, he felt his shirt pull tight, and then he felt himself leaning toward her.

He watched her lips, poised not half a foot from his, as she spoke. "You. And Will. I know everything you did together."

"How?"

"How? Why...Will. He--"

"He told you?" His voice cracked in disbelief.

"A-huh." Her lips loomed closer.

He wiped his temple, which he found was damp. Her eyelids seemed to have thickened. They began to droop, and her lips moved another inch closer.

He clutched the crossbar of his crutch. His breaths came not from his chest but from his stomach.

"What'd he tell you?" he whispered.

He watched her lips smile. She emphasized every syllable in "Everything."

"Where are you going?" she asked as he turned away. His shirt pulled free of her fingers. Her fingers slid along the side of his arm before falling away.

"I need some air."

"James?"

"I need air. A walk."

"James, don't stay out too late."