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.

13.

"Don't!" Norrington cried, pulling back at the touch of Will's fingers-- fingers that grabbed hold of his upper arm almost painfully just as he started to teeter.

"Here, sit," Will said.

"Where--?" He looked around as Will pulled him to a chair. The narrow house. He was back in Will's narrow house. For a moment, two worlds had flickered on top of each other, and now every trace of Elizabeth's bedroom-- including Elizabeth--had vanished.

"What's going on?" he asked, fastening his gaze on Will, who carried over a bottle and two clinking glasses. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Not entirely," Will said, setting them down.

Norrington rubbed his arm where Will had grabbed him. "You're real. Or are you?"

"I'm real." He poured a glass half full.

"Where have I been?"

"Right here."

"Doing what?"

Will lifted his head, offered one of the glasses.

"Doing what, Will?"

"Take the drink, James."

"I don't want to go back there." He tossed the contents of the glass down his throat, coughed, then slammed the glass on the small table between them. "Do you know where I was?"

Will nodded.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" He stared at Will, looking for answers.

And Will started to shimmer.

"No!" He lunged across the table to grab hold before he could disappear again.

"I'm right here," Will said, holding Norrington's arm.

"I don't want to go back."

"Don't let her take you there." Will's voice sounded calm, but Norrington didn't know if he truly was or if he was merely trying to balance out his own growing hysteria.

"Don't let her take me there," Norrington said, not repeating Will's advice but telling Will what he wanted from him.

"I've tried."

"Try harder!"

"I've come up with one idea...."

"Good. Good, let's hear it." His fingers dug into Will, holding on for dear life. Will felt real. Elizabeth had felt real, but he was with Will now, and Will felt real, and he wanted Will to be real, and he didn't want to let go. Ever.

"Come on. Get up." Will leaned over the table to get Norrington his crutch.

"Where? Where can we go? Do you think if we leave the island--?"

"No. Come on." He pulled Norrington up a narrow flight of stairs, at the top of which was a single bedroom.

"Will?"

Will ushered him across the room. "Sit," he said, bodily helping Norrington to follow his request. The crutch clattered to the floor. "Lie down."

"What? Now?" he asked, confused as Will straddled him then sat back and pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing broad shoulders and a muscled, hairless chest and stomach.

Panic brushed over him; he'd been more turned on with Elizabeth. _Stop it. It's not the right time, that's all._

Will clamped a corner of his shirt in his teeth. Loudly, the shirt began to tear.

"What are you doing?" Norrington asked, his fingers gripping Will's knees. _Real,_ he said to himself. _Please let this be real._

When Will had two uneven but long strips of cloth, he circled one of Norrington's wrists with his fingers.

"Will? Will!" He struggled as Will brought his wrist toward one of the bedposts. "What are you doing?"

Will's fingers wrapped and tied one strip of cloth, securing Norrington's wrist as deftly as he might secure rigging on a mizzen mast.

"Will, stop this."

"I'm not going to let her pull you back." He strong-armed Norrington's other wrist to the opposite bedpost.

Norrington tried to convince him that the relief of Will's words was enough to overpower the distress of being tied to the bed. He fought to get his breathing under control before speaking. "So, what? I'm to stay here tied to your bed for eternity? _Ow._"

"Too tight?"

"Yes." Norrington jerked his wrist in its bounds.

"You won't be here for eternity." Will leaned down, then, and brushed hair from Norrington's brow.

"Will, please...."

Will pressed his lips to Norrington's forehead.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, sitting up.

"You could get me loose...."

"Shh." Again he stroked Norrington's brow.

"Shit." Norrington closed his eyes. He gave one more effort at pulling his arms free, but only succeeded in cramping a shoulder.

"Shhh."

His eyes flew open. "Elizabeth." Fading daylight pushed in through the tall windows of her guest room. He lifted his head. His hands were still bound to bed posts, but with tasseled curtain tiebacks instead of ripped shirt. Across the room, Elizabeth hummed as she worked at something on the dresser. "Elizabeth?"

"Just a minute, dear."

He lifted his head higher. "What's going on?"

She lifted a glass and, after taking half a step back from the dresser, poured the white contents of the glass at arm's length into a larger glass container of what looked like steaming water.

The water foamed and spat.

"Elizabeth?"

She gave him a smile. "Almost ready."

An odor began to fill the room. His nostrils flared. Chemicals? "Ready for what? Elizabeth?"

She continued to hum as she poured liquid from one glass to another.

"Oh God answer me. Almost ready for what?"

Then she was there, at the side of the bed.

"Shhh."

His gaze went to the drinking glass in her hand and its milky contents. Steam wafted from the top of it. "What is it?"

Smiling, she set the glass down, then gathered her skirts so that she could climb onto the bed and straddle him. She drew a finger down his cheek, smiling at him. Then she reached for the glass.

"What is it?" he asked again.

"Lye for a liar."

"What?" He yanked his wrists, but the curtain tiebacks were as effective as Will's shirt strips.

"Careful. You don't want my potion to spill."

_Potion._ The liquid, jostling in the glass, teetered near the lip of the glass. Norrington held his breath. Elizabeth held her hand steady; soon the contents settled. Norrington began to breathe again.

"Elizabeth," he whispered. "Please."

"Do you remember your promise, James? If it takes a month, a decade. You said you'd be here."

"I didn't.... I didn't realize....."

"Realize what, dear?"

"Please. Elizabeth."

"What? Realize what, James?"

"Elizabeth, you're dead."

"And you promised to stay with me." She slipped her hand behind his head. "It'll be over with quickly. I promise."

He felt a slap against his cheek and yelled, thinking she had dumped the lye on him. His eyes closed instinctively. When they opened a fraction of a second later, the room was dark. A heavier weight than Elizabeth straddled his hips.

"Tell her I'm coming," Will said.

"What?"

"Tell her!"

Norrington struggled against his bounds. "You said you wouldn't let her pull me back." He twisted his hips, tried to kick Will off of him using his good foot. "She has me tied up, too. Jesus, she's going to kill me. Untie me, damn you!"

Will grabbed Norrington's face with both hands, making Norrington look at him. "Tell her I'm coming."

Norrington's heart pounded. He searched Will's eyes, looking for a way out. "I don't want to go back."

"Shh," Will said, his thumbs moving in front of Norrington's eyes. He blinked against his will, and then felt Will's thumbs touch his eyelids gently.

"Shh," Elizabeth said. "Don't struggle. You'll spill--_damn it!_"

A warm drop of liquid splashed against his cheek. His breaths came in protracted gasps as he felt the drop begin to slide toward his jaw. The liquid trail began to itch. He gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared. The trail began to burn. He groaned against the back of his teeth. The bottom of the glass loomed large in front of his eyes. "Please," he forced out.

Her finger touched his chin. "Open up."

He pressed his eyes closed so that he wouldn't see the worst happening, then slowly, resolutely, began to turn his head aside.

"Don't play games, James."

"He's coming," he whispered, remembering.

"Excuse me?"

He swallowed. "....told me to tell you he's coming."

Elizabeth gave a dismissive laugh. "That's hardly likely."

"He said to tell you he's coming."

"Impossible. He can't."

For whatever it was worth, Will's words were buying him time. "He is."

"But he can't. He's.... How? No! He can't-- He wouldn't!"

Norrington opened his eyes hoping to see Will again but instead found himself staring at one of the tall guest room windows at Elizabeth's house. Night gained on them every moment. He was afraid to look up at Elizabeth out of fear that he might end up looking up at the glass of caustic water. His real fear was that as he watched its milky bottom, she would tip it up and dump it on him. The lye water that had bit through his cheek had left a raw, throbbing wound. His Adam's apple bucked at the thought of the stuff spilling over his eyelids, his eyes, his lips. Already, thanks to the fumes, he could imagine how it would taste passing over his tongue--sharp and clean like liquid fire.

"He would," she said, sitting back. The liquid in the glass sloshed, but he didn't feel any of it spill on him. "Damn him he would."

He heard a clunk--the clunk of a heavy-bottomed drinking glass being set solidly upon a wooden surface. Air rushed out of his chest.

The bed shifted. He felt a tickle against his ear and yelped, then realized it was hair, not lye. Her words came hot and warm: "Do you know how he's going to get here, sweetheart?" Her fingers pushed hair from his brow. "Take a guess. Take a good guess, darling."

Without the lye to worry about, his brain fitted the pieces of the puzzle easily. "No!" His chest heaved. "No." Closing his eyes, he wished himself back. "Will!"

When he looked again, he was alone in Will's bedroom. Was it too late? Digging his foot against the mattress, he shoved his body as far up the bed as it would go, then he stretched his head toward one wrist. Using his teeth, he tugged at the knot that held his wrist.

Just as it was about to come free, he heard a noise. _Yes!_ He lifted his head, held his breath. It wasn't too late, maybe. Another soft sound came from beyond the bedroom. Grabbing the cloth in his teeth, he pulled the knot loose.

"Will? Will, are you there?"

He waited; for a long stretch of seconds he heard only his heartbeat. Footsteps broke the rhythm, then the creak of a floorboard. The creak of the bedroom door.

"Will. Thank God. She thinks.... Elizabeth thinks.... You're not, are you?"

Will walked slowly toward the bed. Metal glinted at his side. Norrington began to shake his head. His throat wouldn't work. Wordlessly, Will straddled him, settling back on Norrington's thighs.

"Will, please. Don't." The knife blade glinted as Will lifted it. "No!" He reached out with his free hand to grab at the wrist that held the knife, but Will dodged easily backward. Changing tactics, he threw himself toward his still-bound wrist. Will's weight kept his hips pinned, making it difficult to reach the knot, but his fingertips found it, found the part of it that needed to be plucked out of itself. He allowed himself a quick glance at Will while his fingers scrabbled to set himself free. "Please stop," he said, watching Will. "Please, please stop."

He felt the cold of the knife blade as though it pressed against the inside of his own wrist.

Free! His hand came free and he bolted upright, the strip of cloth trailing from his wrist. With one hand he caught Will's grip on the knife; with the other, he caught the wrist Will was cutting, slick and tacky with blood. "Don't," he said, toppling Will off him, rolling on top of him. "Don't you dare fucking do it."

Will lay, breathing heavily, but without struggle. His eyes searched Norrington's face. "What happened to your cheek?"

He'd forgotten. He ducked his head aside to rub it against his shoulder. "It's a burn. I'll live."

With his hand still clamped around Will's wrist, he pulled them both up until they were sitting. "How deep is this?" He lifted Will's wrist without opening his hand.

"Deep enough."

"Blast you. Come on." He crawled toward the edge of the bed. His crutch lay on the floor. Unwilling to let go of Will's wrist--he was, he hoped, stemming the bleeding with his grip--he let himself drop to the floor so that he could reach his crutch. By then Will, concerned, was on his feet and helping him up.

He dragged Will first to the room's windows so that he could pull back the drapes. The sky was orange. Nonetheless, the room was lighter than it had been with the drapes closed. He pulled Will toward the lamp--"Carry that."-- then toward the dresser, where he fished out the first piece of cloth his hand closed upon--it turned out to be a shirt. Finally, he pulled Will to the bed.

"Sit."

"You too."

Norrington didn't argue. The crutch clattered once more to the floor. He held Will's wrist, still gripped in his fingers, toward the lamp. He dreaded opening his hand; what if blood gushed up from an artery?

"It's okay," Will said in a quiet voice.

Norrington shook his head as he caught a corner of the shirt into his hand.

"If I die, we can all be together," Will said.

"No."

Resisting the impulse to close his eyes, Norrington pried his fingers loose of Will's wrist.

There was blood, but it seeped rather than gushed. He used the cloth to wipe a mess of smeared blood away from the wound.

"Well?" Will asked.

"I don't think you're going to die. Hold your wrist." He closed Will's fingers around itto free his own hands so that he could rip the shirt into bandages.

"Two good shirts in one night," Will said. "This is getting expensive."

Norrington's jaw tightened. After he laid several strips on his thigh, he placed the back of Will's wrist on top of them. He began to wrap the wrist tightly. "That all right?" he asked quietly.

Will lifted his wrist, cradled it in his other hand. "Thank you."

Norrington found he couldn't look at Will. "Were you really going to kill yourself?"

"I was counting on you stopping me first."

"If I hadn't?"

Will rubbed the bandage with his thumb.

Norrington bent to retrieve his crutch. The trail of lye on his cheek still burned. His wrists burned, too, from the cloth that had bound them. He rose and made his way across the room. At the doorway, he stopped. His jaw muscles had tightened so much that it was an effort to open his mouth. When he did, his voice sounded like a ghost of itself.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Never!" The wooden bed frame creaked as Will rose from it. "We wouldn't be the same people over there. You saw that yourself, with her."

Norrington braced himself in the doorway with his free hand. He wasn't looking back, into the room. He was looking ahead, at the front door. "If we could have been fine. If none of us got perverted over...there...."

"No. I wouldn't want that. Not even then. It's not worth it."

Norrington felt Will at his shoulder.

"Are you going to go back?" Will asked.

"Would you follow if I did?"

"Yes."

Norrington turned and looked at the bed. "What'd I look like, when I was gone?"

Will, too, looked toward the bed. "Like a ghost."

"How did you know I wasn't one?"

Will looked back at him.

"How do you know I'm not dead?" Norrington asked.

Will studied the bed once more, choosing his words. "Well, other people could see you, for one. And.... I guess I was just taking my chances. I just _believed_ you were alive."

"I believed Elizabeth was alive. Estrella. Everyone who saw me with you, they could have been dead too. They could be yet."

"I don't know what to tell you. I just believe you're alive."

In a dead voice, Norrington said, "I wish I believed it." He filled his chest with air. "How come I could go over to...wherever it is she is? You couldn't, not unless you...." His throat clutched the word. He nodded instead at Will's bandaged wrist.

"I think you _were_ dead, James."

"What? Were?"

"As far as you were concerned."

Debate rose at the back of Norrington's throat, but Will was quicker.

"You wanted to be a dead body washed ashore on the rocks. What right--" Will jerked his shoulder, caught his eye with a hard gaze. "What right did you have to live while the men under your command died?"

"No right!" he said before he could catch himself. Will's eyes softened with concern. He rubbed the cheek that didn't burn. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

Will's voice had no edge to it when it cut Norrington off. "Stop being sorry."

He nodded. His gaze avoided Will's, dropping to his chest, then over to his bandage. "I should have died."

"What should have happened _did_ happen. You've no right to decide otherwise."

"It's not fair." His voice cracked over the words.

"It'll be okay." Will squeezed his arm.

Norrington nodded.

"Look at me."

Norrington risked it, looking up without lifting his face.

Will gave another gentle squeeze. He moved closer. "It'll be all right."

Norrington lifted his chin. Will's eyes were right there, searching his face.

He smelled like the wind that came off the sea.

He swept stray hairs from Norrington's brow.

He smelled like the sea.

"Do you think, maybe, it would be...a mistake...." He felt hot, like he had a fever again.

Will's mouth softened into a smile. "The only mistakes I know about are the ones where someone lets his fear of making one keep him from trying."

He felt himself sway closer to Will at what felt like a rate of an eight of an inch a second.

"It'll be okay," Will said again, just before their lips touched.

~~~

The deck, the masts--all of the wood on the ship--smelled like sunlight. Norrington ran his hand along a railing and felt healed by the warmth.

"You're sure about this?" Will asked, stopping beside him, setting down the load of supplies he'd lugged up the gangway.

Sunlight glittered off the blue-green sea. Norrington drew in a long, clean breath. Salt. He loved the smell of sea salt. Will had it on his skin, in his hair. By the end of this, their first business trip together, he hoped to be covered in it again, too.

"What's there not to be sure about?" he asked, turning. "Want help?"

"No, it's--"

"Give it here." He held his arms out so that Will could hoist a crate onto them.

"Got it?" Will asked.

"Aye-aye, Captain." He hop-walked away from the railing, the muscles in his arms feeling good to get a workout. His new leg clopped against the deckboards. It wouldn't be long before that bit of wood smelled like sunlight, too.

"Hey," Will called.

"Yeah?" Norrington turned with his load.

Will's grin was as warm as the sun.

Norrington grinned back.

The sea awaited them.

~end~