Summary: It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, and a doting father-daughter bond. With this chapter, a father still looks for his son.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the readers who have been patiently waiting for a little romantic payoff from the end of Chapter 4.

Ship: The HMS E/N

Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must mention Sandra Brown... as I attempt to pay her an homage. I must also pay tribute to Jack Davenport and his performances as Peter Smith-Kingsly, Miles (from "This Life"), James Norrington (which really goes without saying), and Michael Colefield (Ultraviolet). The combination of which was very helpful in establishing the presence, seductive power, and masculinity of the character which appears here.

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

Chapter 6: All You Wanted

~~San Francisco 2007—Carissa is 25~~

The clear ding of the bell rang through the air as William Davenport appeared inside an empty elevator. His brother had a lot to answer for. Henry promised to let him lead his own life without any interference. He knew that his older brother didn't agree with the way he chose to use his gifts, but to go back on his word…

William angrily stalked down the hallway of the San Francisco apartment building. His mood hadn't been improved by the fact that he didn't automatically land inside the apartment. He took a deep breath in order to expel some of his anger. It wouldn't do if his niece were to see her uncle in a state of violent anger. The door opened and William was suddenly standing face to face with his brother's wife, the always stunning Marissa.

"Good, it's you," William said curtly as he walked into the apartment. "Marissa, can I please just say that your husband did you a huge disservice in taking you back with him. You could have jeopardized the work I was doing. Do you know what would have happened to that woman if you or Henry—wherever he had been in that moment— had gotten in the way?"

"Uncle Liam, my father had nothing to do with it," the woman was saying. "And it wasn't my mother you saw. It was me."

William's eyes widened as he realized that he was speaking to a very-much grown up version of his own niece. She was the spitting image of her mother, but the look in her eyes belonged to her father.

"Where is your father, Carissa?"

"He and my mother died," Carissa said quietly.

** ** **

~~Port Royal 1702: Elizabeth is 20, James is 29, and Carissa is 11~~

All the want and all the melodramatic grief was all for naught. He asked for world enough and time. And she—the faithless—had forgotten it in a moment of misunderstanding. Where had it all gone—all that time?

Elizabeth was once again in her room, and in her present. She cursed Carissa for gaining the understanding that she could not. Life was perfect. All the pieces fit. She'd learned to forget an ancient and inappropriate infatuation with a man almost a decade her senior. She'd learned to feel at home in the arms of another man—a boy she had once regarded as a brother. She didn't want to remember how she could lose herself in James's eyes—those wonderful windows into his soul. She no longer wanted to possess those exhilarating memories of flying through the air and into his waiting arms. She didn't want her heart to soar that way again. It was a childish infatuation… feelings of no consequence.

She let her feet pace around the room. She let the restlessness of the moment inhabit her movements. And, before she knew it, her feet set out a destination and she was compelled to follow. Step by step she followed, paying no mind to those around her.

Eventually, she found herself at the door to the Commodore's house, relieving the one matronly maid. Elizabeth heard herself tell the woman that she herself would look after the Commodore so that she could spend the day with her children.

"Yes Miss Swann," the woman said, both wide-eyed and grateful. "Commodore Norrington would not permit me to enter his room to serve him, and he said no one was to enter the house save you."

"Thank you for the information, Mrs. Wright," Elizabeth told her. She waited for the woman to leave, then said, "You're relieved Mrs. Wright."

The woman eyed her curiously. An old suspicion stirred in the mind of the astute housekeeper. It had been a few years since she'd seen the governor's daughter look this way, and she suspected that the reason was the same as before. Elizabeth was the picture of the wide-eyed teenager she had once been—when it was a gross impropriety for the then-upstart captain to closely involve himself with the girl not yet grown. The pity was that there was now a broken engagement surrounding this picture of love-renewed. Mrs. Wright debated whether or not to allow this surreptitious meeting between the master and the woman now affianced to William Turner. After a moment, she silently took her leave of Miss Elizabeth. Whether James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann meant to reconcile or whether they decided to carry on a clandestine affair under the nose of the blacksmith's apprentice was none of her concern. She heard nothing. She saw nothing.

Once alone, Elizabeth took in the scene around her. All this was meant to be hers. She now understood, as she hadn't allowed herself to before, that everything he had worked towards for the past several years had been for her sake. James only strove to deserve her, as the governor's daughter. She climbed the stairs and slipped into his bedchamber. The room smelled like him—a hint of basil and whatever it was that gave him that wonderfully masculine scent. Knowing that she was completely alone inside the house, she made her way to his bed. It was still in a state of dishevelment, and that made her smile. She lay on the bed, breathing in his scent, and missing him terribly—the man she remembered… the man who had never really changed.

"How could I have been so wrong about that night?" she asked his empty bedroom.

"I'd pushed you away—afraid that your father would want to kill me," James's voice came from his doorway. "I was afraid that he'd see how much I wanted you…"

Elizabeth's eyes met his. He was wigless, his dark hair falling onto his brow. He was dressed in the style of Carissa's time. She looked beyond him for evidence of the other girl. She was rapidly growing jealous of the time Carissa spent with James, and resenting the insight she had into their lives. Satisfied that he was alone, her eyes met his again to find that his blue eyes were clouded with dark intensity. He continued to speak as he made his way towards her.

"… Afraid that the whole of this colony would see that I was ready to pluck a bud barely in bloom, but think that it was for selfish political purpose and not borne of the love, tenderness, and genuine passion…"

He was sitting beside her on the bed. Her gaze never leaving his, she dipped her head to his hand resting on the pillow beside her, placing a kiss on his knuckles. The gesture matched the one he'd made all those years ago. And it was as though she had applied spark to tinder. James had been waiting too long. He'd held himself back too tightly, conforming to the role of the proper gentleman… the epitome of Mr. Procedure. When her lips touched him, he sounded his need in a low, masculine growl. He flipped her onto her back and rose above her.

She made no protests and he bent down—his lips firmly pressed against hers. Before she had the chance to respond, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. An involuntary sound escaped her when his tongue separated her lips. It brought with it the taste and texture of a man— a mingling of cognac and power. He kissed her expertly, brooking no resistance. She met his passion with her own.

James felt both a surge of triumph and the hot swell of possessiveness. Tossing the pins, one by one, out of her hair, he buried his hands within the silky mass as he held her head still for his kisses. His chest was pounding. He needed more, and he slid a hand over her shoulder, down her breast, memorizing every swell and peak that each one of her curves presented.

The stiff material of her gown stood as a fortress between them. He tugged at the fastenings. He gently pulled the gown down over her shoulders. His hands moved over her shift and it followed the same path as her gown until her bosom was exposed to his gaze. Drawing in a harsh breath, he lifted his hand to trace a path down from her throat.

"Christ," he muttered and buried his face in her neck.

As his kiss turned wilder and hungrier, Elizabeth clutched handfuls of his shirt. Their bodies were combustible, each as hot as the other. Within his stroking hands her breasts were full and flushed… raised and responsive.

"James, James," she called out in breathy moans that stirred his conscience along with his senses.

If only she wouldn't say his name… the name that was calling him back to himself. It wasn't as though he didn't want to hear his name on her lips. He loved that she was calling out his name. But it reminded him that he was James Norrington—a man of honor. And what he was doing at that very moment with her, a woman engaged to another man, was not honorable.

Releasing a harsh breath, James broke the kiss and removed her hands from around his neck. He pulled the shift and gown back into place. And he secured the fastenings with gentle thoroughness.

Then he held her tightly for a long moment. "I'm sorry," James muttered. "I lost control of myself."

With great difficulty, he stood and walked to the other end of the room. He dreaded having to turn around and face her, knowing that her pride would require that she pierce his heart with a look of contempt. But he had to meet her eyes again, and make her understand. After taking a moment to gather his strength and mental clarity, he turned around. Instead of meeting the contempt he expected, he found that she looked stricken.

"Elizabeth," James said gently, "you're still engaged to Mr. Turner."

.

Will Turner sat stupefied on a rock in the Commodore's garden. He'd caught sight of Elizabeth walking alone returning from a delivery. Hoping to surprise his beloved, he'd followed her, waiting for the opportune moment to take hold of her hand and sweep her into his arms. But before he could overtake her, she turned into the walkway leading to Commodore Norrington's house.

Awkwardly, he ducked behind a carriage as she turned to look over her shoulders. She hadn't noticed him and he continued to watch her as she walked inside. Shortly after, the Commodore's housekeeper made her way down the walkway with a pensive expression on her face. It wasn't the expression of a woman concerned over the health of her employer. He could read the air of disapproval in her quick, severe steps. When he was satisfied that the woman was gone, he made his way up the walk into the garden and stood below an open window—to what he guessed was the Commodore's room.

"James… James…" came the voice of Will's beloved— ecstatically moaning the name of another man.

It seemed like an eternity before Will heard anything else. But the voice of the Commodore soon drifted out the window.

"I love you… yes. But you're betrothed to another…"

Then, Will heard her speak endearments that she had never graced upon him. She told the Commodore that she should never have doubted… Doubted what? His head was spinning as he clumsily made a move to sit on a large, nearby rock.

A mere two days ago, Elizabeth had told him that there was nothing but friendship between her and Norrington. Only a few weeks ago, she had been relieved that she was no longer obligated to keep her promise to him. Why was she now throwing herself at Norrington's feet… jumping into his bed?

He heard the shuffling of footsteps around the corner of the house and them a soft thud that came from the inside of the house. Will rose to investigate. One of the windows was open, and he peered inside. A peculiarly dressed girl with dark hair was shuffling about inside the Commodore's house, making her way up the stairs. Will gingerly climbed through the window and followed her. He had the strange feeling that he knew this little girl. He listened to her footsteps and followed the sound.

He could, again, hear Norrington's and Elizabeth's voices, and realized that the little girl was going towards them.

"I have to go back, Elizabeth," Norrington was saying. "The child still needs me, and, for you, there are things which need sorting out."

"What else is left for me to understand… to learn?" Elizabeth asked him.

"Do you love me, Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"Do you still love Mr. Turner?"

There was a pause during which Will felt a numbness start at the top of his head and trickle down the rest of his body.

"Yes, I still love him," Elizabeth said hesitantly. "But I don't know whether I could still love him as a husband."

"I hear Carissa on the landing… the little sprite and I must go," Norrington said urgently. "You will deliver these messages to my officers?"

"I'll have my father see to it," Elizabeth said resignedly.

Will peered down the hallway after the little girl. Norrington's chamber door was open and he could see Elizabeth sitting on his bed with a peculiarly dressed Norrington standing over her with his hand resting on her cheek. She was looking up at him in unreserved adoration. Will's breath stopped in his chest as he realized that this wasn't the first time he'd seen her look at Norrington that way. When they were younger, he would always catch her sneaking sidelong glances at the older man. However, shortly after the first ball that her father threw for her in the mansion, she'd look at Norrington with a sort of hurt contempt and call him a hypocrite. Will realized that he had been playing second fiddle in the wake of a misunderstanding. He continued to watch as the little girl entered the room and took Norrington's hand.

"Lizzie, we have to go," the little girl was saying. "I have to take my *uncle* James to a parent conference?"

Will watched as Elizabeth's brow furrowed and Norrington shook his head exasperatedly. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pinch of pain where his neck met his back. He started getting dizzy again. He felt someone pick him up as all the colors around him faded to black.

_______________________________

Upcoming: Someone walks over a young woman's grave... Cataclysm threatens lives as something/someone disrupts continuity. The romance continues...

A/N: I'm feeling a little disheartened by the lack of response I've had to the last couple of chapters. Have people lost interest?