Kin

Part Ten : In Which Norrington is Smarter and Mushier Than One Would Think

by : epiphanies

Desdemona sighed wistfully as she had dozens of times already that day.

Dinner had been wonderful. She'd stood and made a toast -on behalf of herself and Will's 'father' - and been applauded by the masses. She and Will had hugged, Elizabeth had beamed. Governor Swann had given her a kiss on each cheek. Her hand had been kissed by plenty wealthy men.

The moon was out, and she was standing alone. Leaning on the turret she had been leaning on, speaking to Jack earlier. The waves were clutching at the shore, as they had in her dream several nights previous. The gulls were soaring in the sky, the stars twinkling at her. She could hear the pleasant music playing in the courtyard below.

"Miss Turner?"

She turned abruptly to face a clean man with a pure-white wig and rather remarkable blue eyes. She smiled.

"Commodore Norrington. Beautiful night, isn't it?"

He nodded, looking out at the sea.

"Why are you not joining in on the party? Your father-" he paused for a moment, furrowed his brow, and continued, "he's quite the dancer."

She chuckled, "Of course he is. But I suppose he's had his share of the rum also."

He patted his hat nervously, smiling.

"So," she raised her eyebrows, "Are you married?"

"I'm afraid that I am not," he blinked, grimacing slightly. She smiled, "Nor am I."

He furrowed his brow at her, "You're a lovely woman of class, I can only guess how many suitors you've had."

She shook her head, amused, "Actually, I've never had one. Not even one. I had a crush on - on my father's mate, when I was a child. I grew out of that and never found my heart fluttering again."

"Ah, a romantic," the commodore nodded knowingly, "I understand. Many men, many willing to support you and take care of you."

"But they will never love me," she whispered.

He turned to her, and she could see the hurt in his eyes, "But don't you understand? A man doesn't have to be a poor blacksmith, or a slave, or a miner, to be able to fathom love. A man can have wealth and stature and poise, and still be able to love a woman with everything he has."

She didn't say anything for a moment, then turned to the sea.

"A poor blacksmith, Commodore? You are in love with Elizabeth, are you not?"

Norrington looked at her, surprised.

"We were betrothed, rather emptily, for a short time."

Desdemona's eyebrows shot into her hairline, "And what happened?"

"All the while, she loved your brother. And I, being a fool, knew it, and still continued to tell myself that it was possible for her to love me."

Desdemona put her hand on his arm.

"I am sorry, Commodore. You will find somebody, someday. Elizabeth is lovely and I understand that you are heartbroken-"

"I'm no longer heartbroken," he interrupted softly.

"What are you, then?"

He sighed, "A bachelor."

Her lips curved into a smile, "You know, my father was a bachelor once, and now look where he is."

"Miss Turner-"

"Desdmona, if you please."

"Desdemona, darling, I'm not a simpleton."

She frowned, "I don't believe that I-"

"That man down there is not your father. Or, if he is, he is at least not William Turner's father. That man is Jack Sparrow."

She bit her lip, "Now, what would make you say something like that? Something like -my- father, my lovely, darling father, is anything like the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Norrington only smiled at her.

She dropped the facade, "I shan't have used the 'Captain,' and I would have had it, no?"

The commodore locked eyes with her.

"You wouldn't hang him for being here, would you, Commodore?"

"Call me James, and I would have thought about it if he weren't so dear to Elizabeth."

She nodded, "I understand. He's not a bad man, you know."

Norrington looked troubled.

"What's the matter, James?"

"You're not his daughter, are you?"

She smirked, "No. Something like his God-daughter, minus the religious aspect."

He nodded, "As long as. I wouldn't speak to one's daughter badly about him, especially not on such an evening as this."

His eyes fell on her face, "Don't you think that moonlight makes people look striking?"

"The moon rather suits you well, James."

And she could see his blush.

She glanced down at the party below and started. Jack was staggering away from the wash of guests.

"As it does you, Desdemona."

She returned her gaze to the fixated Commodore and felt a pang of sympathy. She kissed his cheek impulsively, "I apologize, but I must get back to the party."

Before he could say another word, she was down the stairs and searching the sea of exultant guests for a very drunken pirate.