Summary: Commodore Norrington must remember his past and a little girl in order to save a member of his family. Elizabeth must remember old feelings to save the man she loves. Bootstrap must find Will before it's too late.

Ship: The HMS E/N

Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. Everything else is mine.

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Chapter 1: You and I Both

Commodore James Norrington sat in his study staring at the pages of a book he'd had for two years. It was a volume of assorted poetry, but it wasn't the words that he was looking at. In the margins were childlike sketches. The one that he was staring out was a sloppy, but beautiful tableau of a perplexed version of himself accepting a kitten from a much younger Elizabeth Swann. His brow creased as a memory flash popped into his head.

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" James asked.

"It is," Elizabeth answered simply.

Two words, and they'd been resounding in his head for the past couple of weeks. He still felt, for the most part, numb except for a dull ache in his chest. He'd been the bigger man and freed her of her promise, what else could he have done? Remembering the moment, he let out a sad smile. He really should have been more upset over the public humiliation, or angry at Turner, but none of that really mattered. Maybe he'd even deserved it.

"James," a little girl's voice came from the doorway. "You look sad."

"Oh, you're back again?" James asked, turning from his desk towards her. He tried to give her a smile. He couldn't see her clearly; she was standing in the shadows.

"Are you happy to see me?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Carissa," James said, "I'm happy you're here, but I can't actually see you."

She stepped into the light. It was the same little Carissa. She was still wearing the same sort of strange clothing he'd seen on her the last time—blue trousers with a light exotic fabric tied around her waist and a white top. She hadn't changed much in the two years that had passed since he'd see her. Her eyes still had that same interesting shape—almost Asian. She hardly looked any older. But then, magical beings weren't supposed to age, now were they?

"But why do you look so sad?" she asked. "Should I go away?"

James wasn't sure that he could take another display of disappearance from this young girl. Every time he watched her disappear into thin air, it always gave him a fright.

"No, better not. I was just thinking about something sad, but now that you're here, I can think of something happy," he said, forcing himself to smile for the young sprite's sake.

"James, are you sad because of Miss Elizabeth?"

The child was smart. He knew that he should probably make her stop talking… He should tell her that this wasn't something that should be concerning her, but he had an earnest desire to be completely candid with her.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"It's why I was sent back to you," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "I'm supposed to help you remember."

"Sorry, remember what?" He tried to ask the question in dulcet tones as he saw fear mounting in her eyes.

"Remember me."

"Carissa…" James started uncertainly. He was beginning to think that the sprite-child was confused. "Of course I remember you."

She looked like she was on the brink of tears. "You only remember 'little sprite.' I'm supposed to make you remember ME."

"I'm afraid that I don't understand what you mean, little sprite," he said, kneeling before her to take hold of her hands—giving in to the strange and oddly familiar desire to protect her like she was his own.

He watched as she took a deep breath and grimaced. He felt himself trembling. His legs felt weak. Suddenly, he felt the sensation that he was falling. The room started to spin.

"Don't let go, James. Pretty please."

And in an instant, they were gone.

Elizabeth had spent the entire evening on her balcony. Her day had been horrible. She'd spent it picking a fight with, first, her father, then Will. She felt in her bones that something was about to happen, but they'd ignored her. She'd been about to force herself to let go of the feeling of imminent excitement, but King Henry, the cat, turned up. King Henry only ever turned up when something monumental was about to occur. Days before Barbossa and company invaded Port Royal, the cat had jumped all over James Norrington in order to get his attention… Then, it had given up and run to the Swann household, and disappeared the next morning. He didn't turn up at the Commodore's doorstep until after the whole adventure had died down.

"Well hello, King Henry," she cooed as she stooped to pick up the cat. "I've missed seeing your majesty around."

The cat just meowed and stretched it's head towards the Commodore's large house. Elizabeth looked in that direction and caught sight of the profile of what looked to be girl about ten or eleven years old. She was climbing the vines that clung to the house. Elizabeth couldn't make out the face of the girl; she was shrouded from the moonlight. A light and refreshing breeze blew in from the sea, pushing the clouds out of the way.

"Carissa!"

She didn't look a day older than the last time she'd seen her… or the first time she'd seen her. Knowledge of Carissa was the only thing that she could not share with Will… and it was the only thing that she shared with James. She also shared the burden of care and concern for the little girl. She gathered up her skirts so that she could climb down the trellis.

"I didn't know that you saw me climb into his house," a quiet voice said from an arm chair in the corner of her room. "If I'd known, I would have waved."

Elizabeth's eyes widened, as she turned towards the young woman sitting in the dimly lit corner of the room. "You were just over there. Hang on a minute. You look… different."

The girl was now wearing a linen skirt and bodice. She looked quite a bit older… just a year or two younger than Elizabeth.

"I suppose that I would," the younger girl said, tiredly. "You're used to seeing 'the little sprite' as James used to call me."

"I'm afraid that I don't understand," Elizabeth said. "You never looked any different before. Why now the sudden change? And why now are you in two places at once?"

"I don't know how to explain it to you. I guess you could say that my knowledge of magic has grown," Carissa sighed. "But I'm here only to make sure that you don't go after me and James. He'll be disappearing for a week."

"Do you mean that you're kidnapping him… or the little you is kidnapping him?" Elizabeth asked, looking perplexed.

"No, I'm just taking him on a trip to a place that he needs to remember, and you can't follow."

"Why not?"

"Because this is his journey," Carissa said, testily. "You don't want to spend any time with him right now, anyways. You just stomped on his heart and chose Will Turner."

"I didn't know that you knew that," Elizabeth said, quietly. "But it isn't as if he hadn't dashed my hopes once or twice himself."

"I remember. And I understand," Carissa said, slumping back into the chair. "This isn't supposed to be a punishment for you. The point is, I need to take Commodore Norrington on a voyage, and you need to stay here to cover for him."

There was a tense pause. Carissa was the one to break it.

"Lizzie, I promise to bring him back."

"His will be a difficult absence to conceal," she said with a sigh. "Can't you at least tell me where you're taking him? That might make it easier."

"I can take you there, but only for a moment," Carissa said, holding out her pinky finger. "Link up."

Elizabeth experienced the same dizzying sensations as James had just moments before. Things went black, then white. And suddenly, she was looking out onto a metropolitan skyline from the roof of a very tall building.

"Elizabeth," the soft, deep voice of the Commodore sounded in her ear.

She turned around to see a wigless James. As a result, he looked quite dashing. He was wearing loose linen trousers and a strange style of shirt that she'd never seen before, but it seemed to match the fashion of the other men surrounding them. She reached out to touch the fabric. It was also linen.



"It's called a button-down," the sixteen-year-old Carissa told Elizabeth. She turned to James. "Where's mini-me?"

"You ran off in that direction," he said, pointing towards the elevators. Then, he added tentatively "Do you remember what happened to her yesterday?"

Carissa's eyes welled up with tears. "Yes, James. I do." She took a deep breath and started off in search of her younger self.

Elizabeth watched as James gently tugged at her elbow, and leaned into Carissa to whisper something in her ear. Elizabeth couldn't make out what he was telling her. She only saw that it made a single tear fall onto the girl's cheek. James, who Elizabeth generally thought was very stingy with any show of emotion, pulled the girl into a hug and smoothed her hair.

"I just never got to say…" Carissa nearly sobbed, then she ran off in the direction of her younger self.

Elizabeth was too shocked for words. She just stared at James. It seemed like he was strangely at home in these surroundings. He looked these men, moved like these men, and was attracting the unashamed glances of all the women around him. What surprised her even more was that no one shouted any warnings against impropriety at the Commodore's unchecked show of affection.

"Elizabeth," James said, trying to read the shock on her face. "The child's been through a horrible week."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, James… Except, perhaps why you don't seem to be bothered by the strangeness of this place."

"I've been here for several months."

"But I only just saw your little sprite climb into your window."

James chuckled. "I find it better not to question the magic of the little sprite. I'd go cross-eyed." He paused. "I'm actually quite happy that the two of you turned up. I was beginning to worry about my absence. Elizabeth, I need you to deliver a message to your father. And tell him that I've taken an illness. I have to stay here for the child a little longer."

He handed her the paper.

"How much longer?"

"Are you asking by the standards of your time or ours?"

"Yours—she's already told me that you'll be gone from Port Royal for a week."

"I'll probably be here considerably longer. Maybe a year."

"James," Elizabeth said uncertainly. "I'm not sure that Carissa is completely good anymore. She's so different. The light in her eyes is almost gone."

"She would not hurt me, Elizabeth. Nor would she harm a single hair on your head. Trust that. I swear on my life that she would not."

"I trust you," she said, turning to take in the view.

"Thank you," he said reaching to touch her cheek. And Elizabeth didn't turn away.

The two Carissas looked on from the other end of the roof of the Empire State Building.

"Does that mean that they will remember us now?" the younger Carissa asked.

"James remembers a little bit and Elizabeth will start to remember soon," Carissa told her younger self, patting her on the head. "Let James take care of you, and I promise you that you'll see daddy again. And when strangers ask, call him uncle James."

"Will I see mommy again?" asked little Carissa.

"Yes," Carissa said, stroking her younger self's hair. "I have to take Elizabeth back now, but I'll come back to see you soon. Don't leave James."

Memories flooded Elizabeth's brain. Surfacing was an old feeling that she thought had completely evaporated years ago. Now…

"Forgive me," James said, gently retracting his hand.

"Not at all," she said, giving him a look that she hadn't given him since she was fifteen.

"Elizabeth, it's time for me to take you back."

"Yes, Mr. Turner will be waiting for you," James said, his eyes clouding over. "And I must get the little sprite back home."

"Lizzie!" the young Carissa exclaimed. "Don't go."

"Carissa, I already told you," the older girl said. "Elizabeth has to go back, or everyone will think that she and James are dead. You don't want everyone to be sad, do you?"

Little Carissa looked like she was about to burst into tears. Elizabeth noticed that she was now looking at the Commodore quite desperately. Almost as if she was afraid that he would leave and never come back… It was a look that Elizabeth knew quite well. She often wore that look in her early acquaintance with James Norrington. Seeing that look of desperation in little Carissa's eyes made Elizabeth wonder if… But no, Carissa-The-Older assured her that Norrington would return to Port Royal.

James also noticed the little sprite's distress. In the best fatherly manner that he could manage to dredge up, he knelt in front of the little girl and murmured into her hair that he would not leave her alone. He told her that he would stay as long as she absolutely needed him… until she was ready to take him back.

Then, he turned to the older Carissa. "I mean that. You have me whenever you need me, and however long you need me."

As Elizabeth looked on in amazement, she felt a tap on her shoulder. The older Carissa was extending her pinky finger. "It's time to go back. Quick, while no one is watching."

Once again, Elizabeth felt the dizzying effects of Carissa's time-traveling magic. And in half a moment, she was back in her bed chamber. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Carissa wiping away her tears.

"I'm sorry," Carissa said. "It's just hard going back to that week. I'd just lost my parents and the funeral was the day before."

"James is to be your new father?"

"No. He does pretend to be my uncle, for quite a while, though." She paused, and plucked a book from a shelf. As she flipped through the book she said, "He'll come back to you, you know. He'll always come back to you."

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AN: A few of you might have already figured out exactly who Carissa is in relation to James Norrington because I've been pretty heavy handed with it.

The Next chapter will take Elizabeth back into her own past and remind her of a betrayal... but will also provide insight...

Let me know if you're interested in seeing scenes of Norrington in contemporary New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco.

Feedback appreciated... Flame me if you like, but I'd like reasons.