Summary: Got tired of copying it... It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, and a doting father-daughter bond.

Warning: References to attempted sexual violence in dialogue, but the scenes are pretty chaste.

Ship: The HMS E/N

AN: I had to cut this chapter in half because it was getting too long. This chapter doesn't have much explanation of "the horror" of the past, but I think it still does an effective job setting up the moment of betrayal. The unseen time-travelling canonical character will have to wait until the next upload. I still promise that Bootstrap and Will are going to come up in the future... that wasn't just false advertising.

Disclaimer: The POTC characters are the property of the Disney Empire. Peter Pan & Associates belong to J.M. Barrie and Disney. I lied. I wasn't using Nabakov and Lolita... it was Father Ralph and Meggie from "The Thornbirds." Scenes flavored with that narrative are henceforth credited to Colleen McCullough. And if you get the other references I make, you probably know who they actually belong to... Everything else is mine.

*****************************************

Chapter 4: Another Chance, Another Walk, Another Dance

Elizabeth Swann wanted to strangle her old magical friend. She'd expected no less than agreement and sympathy from Carissa. She had, after all, been there that night. She could not fault her for choosing to give her heart to Will Turner. They had both witnessed it. But, Carissa only stood there in self-righteous silence.

"Say something," Elizabeth ordered.

"I will see you in the morning, Lizzie," Carissa said, woefully.

With that, Carissa closed her eyes, disappeared and left Elizabeth to her sanctimonious suffering. She'd taken her old friend on three trips to help her understand and remember, but the 17th century girl was as stubborn as an overpriced mule. She needed to rid herself of the negativity. That was all she could do…

But the voices of James and her father resounded in her head.

"Do not accept any challenges you cannot commit to answering."

She reappeared in the empty San Francisco apartment. She missed her father and his cryptic speeches. She missed the way he would run his sentences together, not bothering to let any pauses color his speech with much emotion. He'd do that all the time… especially when he was explaining things about the past, the future, or destiny. He would use his words to blur together verbal signs of his affection with important warnings, and his explanation of why things were the way they were.

She missed the way he would say, "You can't change continuity, because it's physically, temporally, and spiritually impossible. Things that are supposed to happen will, in fact, happen. Your abilities don't change that. The fact is, little sprite, if you're anywhere in time, it's because you are supposed to be. I love you."

That was so like him… A complicated explanation and a declaration of fatherly love spoken in the same breath. James was different. His speech had more pacing. Oddly, the logical progression of his speech was very like her father's but he knew exactly when to pause to let his words sink in. It was like he knew how to spend his words. Perhaps it was because he was a commodore.

Life didn't seem fair. She still needed a father in her life, and here she was at sixteen years of age sitting in the middle of an apartment that she lived in alone. She learned that she could do without a mother, and whenever she really needed a woman's motherly advice, she would travel back to her mother for a short chat. It didn't work the same way with her father… or James. For some reason, she needed one or the other to be near her quite frequently—didn't feel complete otherwise.

She let out a wistful sigh as her mind took her back to one of her early excursions into James and Lizzie's world.

*** She had been eight years old, and had popped in on James while he stood alone on one of the high walls of the fort. He had been stewing in silent anger and grief, looking out onto the ocean. The sight both scared her and made her sad.

"James," her eight year old self had said in an almost-whisper. "Why are you so sad?"

He turned, startled. Carissa was almost afraid that he would fall over the wall and into the ocean. He, in turn, had seen the fear in her eyes and gave her a small, but reassuring smile.

"Good evening, little sprite," he said. "I was remembering my brother. It's his birthday."

Carissa's eyes widened. This was something she knew about. Her father had told her all about James's brother. And he was famous—or his story was, anyways. But they changed it a little.

"Peter!" she said, smiling excitedly. Then, she remembered that James was sad and her face fell.

James was taken aback. How did she know—? But then, the child was magical… and apparently didn't know what she was feeling. He watched as her face fell from a buoyant grin to a look of contrition. He wanted to laugh, but valiantly fought the urge down, trying his best to keep the reassuring smile on his face.

"I know what it's like to miss someone," she'd said, sounding as small as she looked contrite. "I miss my uncle Liam. My daddy says that he got lost at sea."

The young lieutenant's eyes flashed with sympathy. He had quite a lot in common with this little sprite. It occurred to him that he'd like to have a daughter like her.

"When that sort of sadness sails into port, I find it useful to go for a walk along the docks," he told her. ***

"The docks…" the fifteen year old Carissa said to herself in her own present world. And she walked out the door.

.

.

.

.

(Port Royal during the colonial era.)

Commodore James Norrington was sitting at his desk going over customs reports. His eyes started to glaze over, and his thoughts drifted to his once and future great-granddaughter. He smiled. She was, indeed, real and most assuredly borne of his flesh and blood. The new small bundle in his home was evidence enough…

Pop.

The soft noise seemed to come from directly in front of him, and he raised his eyes from the papers on his desk. There she was—the not-so-little sprite. He couldn't have been happier to see her. But then, she looked as though she had been crying. He examined her, closely. She was only a few more years older than she was when she'd taken him back to his own place and time.

"Carissa," James said. "Are you all right?"

"James. Would you pulverize someone for me?"

"What?"

"I want to hurt someone and I'm too small to do it… I don't know how to fight…" she was interrupted by a pained hiccup. Then, she continued, "Would you do this for me—as a father?"

James watched as tears started to well up in her eyes. He'd never seen his little sprite this vengeful before. His eyes widened.

"What are you speaking of? Who? And Why?"

"There was this man…"

The breath caught in James's chest. It occurred to him that he might have heard this story before, from an older version of the sprite. An overeager suitor or something as such… He wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't very well pulverize the young man for eagerly wanting to spend time with this beautiful, young daughter of his blood.

"An eager suitor, am I right?"

"I suppose you could call him that," she answered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Carissa, I can't eviscerate every one of your undesirable suitors, as much as I might like to… The populations of San Francisco and Los Angeles would dwindle terribly—just ask your future self."

The tears that had built up in her eyes fell to her cheeks, and the sight nearly killed James.

"What happened?"

"I was missing you and daddy. So I went for a walk on Fisherman's Warf, and this man started to follow me, asking my name and generally trying to pick me up. I tried to be nice to him and told him that I already had a boyfriend. Then, he said that if that were true, I wouldn't be walking around so late at night. I was afraid, so I let him buy me a drink if only he'd take me home straight away. I tried to sneak away so I could go home myself, but he followed me…"

James's fists balled up tightly as he watched more tears stream down his little sprite's face.

"I reminded him that he'd promised to take me home, but he was really mad. He shoved me into his car and wouldn't take me home. I wasn't sure where he was going to take me… And suddenly we were driving down this dirt road, and there was this little shack..."

"Carissa, did he…" James couldn't hide the fear in his eyes and he could hardly get the sentence out. "Did he… ravage you… de-despoil you?"

"He… He said I wasn't good enough… He…"

James waited. She looked so ashamed with her tears flowing quite freely. She tentatively peeled off her shirt to bare burn scars, ugly bruises and what looked like light whip marks. The rage within James was immense. She was his child… He was going to kill the man… cripple him… maim him… emasculate him.

"He scared me so badly that I had a hard time making myself disappear… I…"

He grasped Carissa's hands. In a deadly voice he said, "Take me to him."

"I want to watch. I want to see him cower in fear. And I want to know the meaning of shame..."

With that, they disappeared into Carissa's world, where she got her wish. James made a quick and efficient work of teaching the man the meaning pain, but he left the work of humiliation to Carissa—who, in the end, left the man petrified and tied to a tree in such a way that if he attempted to move, he would be dismembered in the worst way a man possibly could be.

.

.

.

.

When she returned James to his office, she was much calmer than when she had appeared. He gave her a pensive gaze, trying to ascertain whether or not she was in any state to go back to her home alone. He was surprised to find her looking back at him in astonishment.

"How could she ever have questioned your sense of honor?"

.

** ** ** Counterpoint

~~~Carissa is 16, Elizabeth is 20~~~

Carissa felt as if she was melting under the Caribbean sun. She was buried beneath layers of fabric. The bodice of her dress was killing her, pressing down on the scars and bruises she had acquired two days before. Fashion, she decided, was meant to add to misogyny. But then she caught sight of Lieutenant Gillette as he passed her on the road. The man was wearing a ridiculously heavy overcoat, stockings, and a wig. The poor man. No wonder he always looked like he was constipated.

What possessed her to travel into the daylight and walk among the people, she didn't know. And Elizabeth was proving to be a hard person to track down. Carissa was not happy. Her resentment towards Elizabeth had grown monumentally since their last meeting.

Elizabeth was walking with her father towards the fort. She was still bristling from the previous night and the lack of friendly support she received from Carissa. How could the girl side with James after all that had happened? Elizabeth grimaced as she remembered the traumatized expression that appeared on the ten-year-old Carissa's face as the young girl found her heroic father figure in the midst of… Elizabeth shuddered. She preferred to put the scene out of her mind and concentrate on the task at hand— attempting to smile at the snotty Lieutenant Gillette.

"Tell your father that I share his opinions on maritime history," Gillette was saying to a young woman. "Forgive my boldness, but I am charmed beyond words, Miss Davenport."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It was completely obvious to all those around him that he was completely besotted with this Miss Davenport. One would think that a lieutenant in the King's Navy would be a little more guarded with his emotions… Her eyes widened in shock, as his words registered. She looked tentatively over to the woman. It certainly was Miss Davenport—Miss Carissa Davenport.

"Good morning, Miss Swann," Carissa said, nodding towards Elizabeth. "It's good to see you again."

"Carissa, you know very well that you can dispense with the formality," Elizabeth said, still shocked to see the young woman functioning as a member of her world. Not knowing what else to say, she added, "You're here to see the Commodore, I assume."

"I've been told he's fallen ill," Carissa said, almost smirking. "I am quite disappointed, but if you do not have any pressing matters to attend to, I should like to speak with you."

Governor Swann waved Elizabeth leave to consort with her friend.

"We have unfinished business, Lizzie," Carissa said coldly when they were away from the Governor and Gillette. "It's time you knew what really happened that night."

.

~~~James is 29, Carissa is 25 and 10~~~

"I told James last night," Old Carissa told Young Carissa. "That we followed him to the docks after Lizzie's birthday ball. We're going to go back to that night—all three of us. Do you understand?"

Young Carissa nodded, looking very much afraid. James watched as she started trembling.

"Carissa," Old Carissa said gently but firmly, "I need you to be brave. As long as you're brave, everything will be all right." She turned to James. "We'll be watching from a docked ship, James. And you'll see everything… including something that you'll want to change. But you can't—and I can't have you jumping into the water and alerting all to our presence."

"Understood," James said, grabbing the hands of his once and future great-granddaughters.

.

~~~Elizabeth is 16, Carissa is 10~~~

Carissa materialized on Elizabeth's balcony, very confused as to why she was there. This wasn't what she had been expecting.

"Carissa!" Elizabeth exclaimed with glee. She was dressed for a party. "You're just in time!"

Elizabeth rummaged through her wardrobe and plucked out a small dress and threw it at Carissa.

"In time for what, Lizzie?" Carissa asked, still dazed.

"My birthday ball," Elizabeth answered.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Carissa said, starting to panic. "This isn't where I was supposed to come."

"Where were you supposed to go?"

"To my daddy. I was missing him, and I concentrated really hard, but I'm here instead."

"Stay a little while," Elizabeth said buoyantly. "Captain Norrington will be disappointed if you don't."

"Alright."

Carissa was swimming in the fabric of a dress that was too big for her. There was a crowd of people, and no one seemed to notice that she was there. Her eyes searched for James… She traveled to the wrong daddy… she traveled to her great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaddy. It was a waste. She left James only to find that she had traveled to James.

"Well hello little sprite," James said to Carissa. "I didn't know that you had been invited to the ball."

"Lizzie told me to come."

"It's Miss Elizabeth when other people are around, little sprite," James chided gently. "Her father begs that all around her comport themselves with the utmost propriety and decorum. He'd be severely scandalized if her heard anyone here calling her Lizzie.'

"Did I hear my name?"

"I was just informing the little sprite that I have not yet been graced with a dance from the guest of honor," James said, flashing Elizabeth a heart stopping smile.

Speechlessly happy, she extended her hand towards the captain. He looked exceedingly striking without his uniform—more human, closer in years to her. His uniform, despite its impressive brocade work, could not have suited him half so well as the severely cut black robe he wore that night. The flaring lines of his black waistcoat and the innumerable little black cloth buttons up his front from hem to collar, trimmed in a burgundy lining made him look so dark, mysterious and dashing.

Up until this moment, James did not speak directly to Elizabeth. He had only bowed in her direction upon his arrival. He didn't speak a word to her during dinner, nor did he afterward. He seemed to systematically ignore her. He was very aware of her hurt gaze throughout the night. Earlier, he had wanted to stop by her chair and explain that it would not do her, nor his, reputation any good if he—the young, upstart, ambitious captain as he was generally known throughout the general acquaintance of all in attendance of the banquet hall—if he paid her more attention than he did any other young lady in attendance. They spent too much time together unsupervised as it was—and she wasn't a child anymore.

Part of him hated her appearance that night. He didn't want to notice how beautiful she had grown… and she had, indeed, grown very beautiful. She wore a dress with a low, draped neckline and a fabric that reminded him of opaque rose petals. She was growing taller and developing a very feminine figure. The other half of him was immeasurably proud that she outshone every other young woman in attendance. No doubt, all the young men in attendance would notice.

As the thoughts swam through his mind, he realized that they were no longer on the dance floor but alone on the veranda. For some strange reason, he was holding her. He could feel her bosom low down on his chest, applying a slight pressure—causing an odd sensation… a disturbing sensation. Even more disturbing to him was the feeling of inevitability, and the element of the natural that asserted itself in the moment.

Quickly regaining his senses, he stepped back from her abruptly. If her father—nay, any busybody—were to find them like this, it would be his hide… captain or no. He possessed neither the position nor permission to be this closely engaged with the young woman. Her father would vilify him for plucking a flower barely out of the bud. His general acquaintance would look upon this moment as an undeserving bid for social and political promotion… a grown man using a child to achieve his own selfish ends.

"Captain," said the voice of midshipman Groves, "The messenger you bid me watch for, has arrived."

So James was to be granted a reprieve. He prayed that Miss Elizabeth Swann had not noticed the state of his mind… and body.

"Forgive me, Miss Swann," James said, bowing toward the stunned young woman. "I must take my leave as this is a matter of great urgency."

He walked into the ballroom towards the little sprite Carissa. As he bent down to bid the little girl good night, he was struck by a thought of immense guilt. It was now painfully clear to him that since the beginning of his acquaintance to these girls, he had harbored two different feelings towards each of them. For Elizabeth, he harbored all the affection of a friend despite the difference in their ages. Towards Carissa, it had been a familial, almost father-like doting. He nearly stumbled over himself as he hurried out of the ballroom.

After changing into his uniform, James emerged from the guards' quarters onto the grounds to find Elizabeth in the gazebo looking wistfully towards the ocean. In his concern, he forgot the tenets of decorum and approached the girl.

"What's the matter, Lizzie?"

"No one seemed to want to want my company. My father is attending to state business," she answered. Then, she took a pause, appearing to debate with herself whether to continue to speak. "And you hardly spoke a word to me tonight."

"Elizabeth," James said, dispensing with the childish nickname and the formality for the first time. It felt nice to say. "Elizabeth, you're growing older and I can no longer pay you the same amount of attention as I did when you were younger. You understand the reason, do you not?"

Elizabeth stared blankly at the captain.

"It is well known that I come to the mansion more often than I need. It is also widely known that you spend quite a bit of time entertaining me alone as I wait on the political mentorship from your father. If I had paid you a modicum more attention than I did... Lizzie, you haven't yet learned to hide the affection you grew accustomed to paying me in your childhood... Your reputation would have been thrown into sharp duress. The state of things between you and I would have been misconstrued."

She was looking up at him oddly… almost with a wild-eyed curiousity. Then, with the suddenness of lightning, her gaze was tempered with something he couldn't quite identify.

"Yes, I understand now."

"It's time you were getting back to the house. Your guests will be missing you."

He bowed to take his leave of her. Then, possessed by some ill-advised impulse, he took hold of her hand and raised it to his lips.

"I have pressing business to attend to at the docks. But I wish you the very happiest of birthdays, Miss Swann," James said. "As a friend of my father's once wrote, 'Had we but world enough and time…'"

_____________________________

Previews: The betrayal scene is quite graphic. But, as I think I've set up sufficiently that the betrayal is actually a misunderstanding, I hope you'll acquit me of cruelty towards James Norrington.

Araeph: Yes, this is a reference to Andrew Marvell's poem... and a reference to Audrey Niffenegger's book "Time Traveller's Wife." (It's a good read.) Like I said in my earlier note, I really was planning on a monumental reveal in this chapter, but it got too long due to necessary setup.

Carlses: Truthfully, I normally don't like the character Elizabeth much either (mostly because I don't like Keira Knightly). But this Elizabeth was based on the one at the beginning of the movie, where the young actress Lucinda Dryzek looks a little like she's staring up at Jack Davenport with wide-eyed admiration and curiousity.

On the point of confusion: I tried to make things a bit less confusing when I started the plot counterpoint in this chapter by labling the segments with their ages... I'd very much like to know whether you guys find this helpful, so feedback is HIGHLY encouraged.