Summary: It's a Norrington fic full of time travel, romance, Greek Tragedy, and a doting father-daughter bond. With this chapter, a son meets his father, brothers are in conflict, and elements of noir are introduced.
A/N: Sorry for the wait. Finals, and recovery from finals.
Ship: The HMS E/N
Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must, again, mention Jack Davenport for his work on "Ultraviolet." I should also mention Victor Garber as it is his recent work that informs the characterization of James in the latter half of this chapter. Again, I have to give anachronistic credit to J.M. Barrie for Peter and the Lost Boys. Oh!-- and special thanks to my beta Jen... though, there were just two changes that I couldn't bring myself to make.
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Chapter 8: Give Me A Reason
~~Port Royal 1702: Elizabeth is 20~~
Elizabeth was still languishing in James's bed, wondering what she was going to do. What could she tell Will?
"Miss Swann," a familiar voice said from the balcony. "You were the last person I was expecting to find in the good Commodore's bed. Does this mean that you kept your word and married him?"
"Jack Sparrow," she said, pursing her lips and raising a brow. "Paying a visit to a man duty-bound to see you swing from the gallows—why?"
"He wasn't supposed to be here, and I am here to deliver a message. Now answer my question."
"I am still engaged to Will."
"Yet I find you here," he said. Then he raised his hands to stop her explanations. "It's none of my affair what you are doing here, and why. I made a promise to a dying woman, and I do not go back on my word."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows quizzically, but said nothing. Sparrow extended the sealed missive to her, and she silently took it from him.
"See that your Commodore reads that."
Then, without much ceremony, he jumped off the balcony, swung from a branch, and landed with a thud on the ground. The pirate's abrupt exit left Elizabeth to ponder the story behind the missive she held in her hands.
To: James E. Norrington, esq.
From: Mrs. Peter Norrington
Peter. It was the name of the heroic figure in all of the stories James told her as a child. Peter was the boy who never grew up and lived to fight the evil pirate captain with the hook. As she stared at the name, it occurred to her that this name had something to do with James's stories. But unlike the Peter in those old stories, it appeared that this one had grown up and taken a wife.
Elizabeth smiled softly recalling the stories. At one point, she fancied herself a pirate hunter running off with Peter and his lost boys. She remembered the fencing lessons with James, when she thought it would be fun to have a go at Captain Hook with a sharp steel blade. As a child, she never once considered that she would ever kill any of the pirates. She had thought that she might spar with them as she did with James. She'd also thought that James would be standing there along side her with a long, steel blade of his own… a trusted grown-up among the ageless children. She shook her head at the silly dreams and flights of fancy. The real thing had been nothing like the scenes in her imagination.
She turned her attention back to the letter. Those sorrowful glances James had cast in her direction during her youth every time she expressed a desire to join the heroic Peter rose to the surface of her memory. Those glances, she now realized, had been edged with fear. Who was Peter Norrington, and had he been the basis for those stories long ago? Was he the person who inspired the few moments of fear and terror that she'd witnessed in James? She was tempted to open the missive for some answers.
Pop.
Elizabeth didn't bother to turn around. "What now, Carissa? Have I stayed too long here? Has my father sent out a search party?"
"Sorry," a male voice said. "I am obviously not the Davenport that you were expecting. Carissa is otherwise occupied, so you, madam, are stuck with me. It's nice to finally meet you Elizabeth."
"I've seen you before," Elizabeth said, abruptly. "You were there the night those women…"
"Good memory," Liam mused. "Though, I don't know why I should be surprised. I'd never known that you were on the docks that night."
"I saw everything," Elizabeth said, grimacing. Then she raised her eyes to his suspiciously. "I don't even know your name."
"Liam Davenport," he said. "Carissa's long-lost uncle."
Elizabeth shot a look of disgust at the man.
"You needn't look at me like that," Liam said. "I didn't intentionally abandon the child. I was working here. I didn't even know that my brother and his wife died."
"What were you working on that could be so important that you would abandon your niece?"
"The abolition of slaves-- both African and disenfranchised women forced into the service of unscrupulous men," Liam answered. Elizabeth could see that he found the subject embarrassing and awkward.
"James was working with you," Elizabeth murmured more to herself than to him. Then, remembering her sense of propriety, she asked, "So, you and the Commodore had already planned an intrigue?"
"Your James was a reluctant abolitionist," Liam said. "Had it not been for the deathbed promise he'd made to Lieutenant Adams, he certainly would never have made an appearance. You see, Elizabeth, James made a promise to his best friend to protect his widow. Lieutenant Adams had many enemies due, in part, to his work with me and gambling debts that he owed."
"So that was why he was there with her…" she murmured under her breath, realizing that she had not been witness to the beginning of an illicit tryst.
Liam's eyes widened as she spoke. "Begging your pardon, Elizabeth, but if you didn't know that, how has it passed that I now find you loitering like a lover in the man's bed chamber? I was laboring under the apprehension that the little sprite revealed... that is to say, you no longer feel betrayed by..."
"He has always loved me," Elizabeth said simply, handing the man an unassuming leather-bound book, embossed with silver-leaf. On the inner flap, an inscription was written.
'To: Miss Elizabeth Swann on the eve marking her 16 th year.
With all the care I possess,
James Edward Norrington'
As Liam flipped through the volume, a single sheet of paper floated from the pages and up into the air.
~~San Francisco 1993: James is 29, Carissa is 11 and 25~~
James shut the door behind the middle-aged woman that had been hired to keep house for them. Henry and Marissa, before their death, had taught him the essentials of the kitchen. He'd caught on quickly enough, but all the same, he was glad when the Older Carissa hired help. Truth told, the year he'd spent on his own with the little sprite might have been bleak for him had it not been for the appearance here and there of the grown-up sprite. It was Older Carissa that had arranged for James to teach the art of fencing to university students. After that, he'd gotten quite accustomed to life with his progeny. He cast a glance toward the young sleeping girl and smiled slightly.
"How was your trip back to Port Royal this afternoon?" asked Older Carissa from the kitchenette.
He hadn't heard her pop in—must have been as he'd shut the door.
"It was wonderful to see her again," he told her. "I had forgotten how hope can have the power to regenerate happiness."
He caught a momentary flicker of sadness in the woman's eyes. The powerful flash of pain was squashed as she cast her eyes towards the floor. It was something, James suspected, that she learned from him. When her eyes met his again, the curtains had once again been drawn over her emotions.
"Hope has the power to do many things," she said enigmatically. "I'm glad you've found some."
"Am I right to hope?" he asked, waiting intently for her reaction.
Her eyes widened, as if his doubt was the last thing she was expecting. The slight purse of her lips also told him that she was a bit disappointed that the doubt appeared. So the pain was from her love, then.
"You have the best instincts I've ever known in a man, and your faith is always well placed," she said, emphatically. "So, why are you asking the question?"
"Has he hurt you?" James countered.
"Who?"
"The man you were thinking about just now."
"I hurt myself." She opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly thought the better of it. "But we're talking about your love, not mine. Why are you asking me for confirmation on your future? You've never asked that of me before."
"She still loves the young Mr. Turner."
"She is very fond of him, yes. But, if she loved him so much, what was she doing in your arms? With whom did she spend many childhood hours discussing everything from literature and music to the art of sailing? Who did she spend more time with?" Carissa quickly rattled off question after question. "And didn't I just show you that with the desperation of a young woman in love, she followed you to the docks to have her heart cracked—albeit erroneously through a misunderstanding? I don't understand how you can doubt her feelings."
"She hasn't been the only one in all of this who has suffered a damaged heart," James said quietly. His voice sounded almost hollow. "Not many moons have come and gone since I've asked after the residence of her heart and the answer was..."
"James, I'm so sorry. I forgot," she said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to be insensitive. But don't you realize that..."
"She might have been doing that to hurt me the way she thought I'd hurt her?" James asked, balking with a wry smile. Then he grew sober. "It had crossed my mind. But what I learned from that experience, once-and-future daughter of mine, is that I want to be sure that if we do join our hearts together, that Elizabeth and I both give the whole of our hearts and not just the pieces. She deserves no less than a life without regret."
James watched as Carissa's eyes watered. He noticed that she seemed to be absently touching a ring that hung on a chain about her neck. He wanted to say something, but thought the better it.
"She loves you, have faith in that."
"Will you at least tell me what caused a woman, who previously had been determined to give her heart to another, to linger in my bed like Eve with her damned apple?" James asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Carissa's eyes widened. This show of soft-core misogyny on the part of a man who she, in almost every way, regarded as her father was unsettling. She sometimes forgot the symptoms of her disjointed continuity— she was almost as old, in years, as he... and he was as much a product of his own time as she was of her own. She regarded his question for a moment, unsure how she should respond. Part of her wanted to scold him for referring to the love of his life as an evil seductress. Another part of her acknowledged that he didn't mean it. And most of her wanted to answer the question, but...
"I honestly don't know, James. She has never shared with me her reasons. All I can tell you is to have faith, and that it will turn out all right in the end."
But how, sweet child, how? He desperately wanted to continue questioning Carissa, but he knew it would be fruitless. He held his tongue and did the next best thing. He searched his child's eyes for answers. He'd learned, long ago, that this child could not keep hidden her secrets if one looked into her eyes—and if the looker knew what he was searching for.
Suddenly, he was hit by a series of images that flashed briefly through his mind: this grown child, her eyes filled with immense pain and tragedy, pale blue fabric floating through the air, the ocean, a ring and a book at his feet, a man standing stoic, and another man diving from a cliff. He took a sharp breath. Strange that he should be having a disturbing daydream at this moment. He sighed, letting the images float away on that breath. And he looked at Carissa again. In that look, he was struck by the sense of certainty—and it gave him what she had called faith.
________________________
Upcoming: The main players must all make some hard decisions... An epiphany comes to our hero... James needs to face a horrible memory without the help of Carissa or Liam.
A/N: Sorry for the wait. Finals, and recovery from finals.
Ship: The HMS E/N
Disclaimer: Other than Disney, I must, again, mention Jack Davenport for his work on "Ultraviolet." I should also mention Victor Garber as it is his recent work that informs the characterization of James in the latter half of this chapter. Again, I have to give anachronistic credit to J.M. Barrie for Peter and the Lost Boys. Oh!-- and special thanks to my beta Jen... though, there were just two changes that I couldn't bring myself to make.
*****************************************
Chapter 8: Give Me A Reason
~~Port Royal 1702: Elizabeth is 20~~
Elizabeth was still languishing in James's bed, wondering what she was going to do. What could she tell Will?
"Miss Swann," a familiar voice said from the balcony. "You were the last person I was expecting to find in the good Commodore's bed. Does this mean that you kept your word and married him?"
"Jack Sparrow," she said, pursing her lips and raising a brow. "Paying a visit to a man duty-bound to see you swing from the gallows—why?"
"He wasn't supposed to be here, and I am here to deliver a message. Now answer my question."
"I am still engaged to Will."
"Yet I find you here," he said. Then he raised his hands to stop her explanations. "It's none of my affair what you are doing here, and why. I made a promise to a dying woman, and I do not go back on my word."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows quizzically, but said nothing. Sparrow extended the sealed missive to her, and she silently took it from him.
"See that your Commodore reads that."
Then, without much ceremony, he jumped off the balcony, swung from a branch, and landed with a thud on the ground. The pirate's abrupt exit left Elizabeth to ponder the story behind the missive she held in her hands.
To: James E. Norrington, esq.
From: Mrs. Peter Norrington
Peter. It was the name of the heroic figure in all of the stories James told her as a child. Peter was the boy who never grew up and lived to fight the evil pirate captain with the hook. As she stared at the name, it occurred to her that this name had something to do with James's stories. But unlike the Peter in those old stories, it appeared that this one had grown up and taken a wife.
Elizabeth smiled softly recalling the stories. At one point, she fancied herself a pirate hunter running off with Peter and his lost boys. She remembered the fencing lessons with James, when she thought it would be fun to have a go at Captain Hook with a sharp steel blade. As a child, she never once considered that she would ever kill any of the pirates. She had thought that she might spar with them as she did with James. She'd also thought that James would be standing there along side her with a long, steel blade of his own… a trusted grown-up among the ageless children. She shook her head at the silly dreams and flights of fancy. The real thing had been nothing like the scenes in her imagination.
She turned her attention back to the letter. Those sorrowful glances James had cast in her direction during her youth every time she expressed a desire to join the heroic Peter rose to the surface of her memory. Those glances, she now realized, had been edged with fear. Who was Peter Norrington, and had he been the basis for those stories long ago? Was he the person who inspired the few moments of fear and terror that she'd witnessed in James? She was tempted to open the missive for some answers.
Pop.
Elizabeth didn't bother to turn around. "What now, Carissa? Have I stayed too long here? Has my father sent out a search party?"
"Sorry," a male voice said. "I am obviously not the Davenport that you were expecting. Carissa is otherwise occupied, so you, madam, are stuck with me. It's nice to finally meet you Elizabeth."
"I've seen you before," Elizabeth said, abruptly. "You were there the night those women…"
"Good memory," Liam mused. "Though, I don't know why I should be surprised. I'd never known that you were on the docks that night."
"I saw everything," Elizabeth said, grimacing. Then she raised her eyes to his suspiciously. "I don't even know your name."
"Liam Davenport," he said. "Carissa's long-lost uncle."
Elizabeth shot a look of disgust at the man.
"You needn't look at me like that," Liam said. "I didn't intentionally abandon the child. I was working here. I didn't even know that my brother and his wife died."
"What were you working on that could be so important that you would abandon your niece?"
"The abolition of slaves-- both African and disenfranchised women forced into the service of unscrupulous men," Liam answered. Elizabeth could see that he found the subject embarrassing and awkward.
"James was working with you," Elizabeth murmured more to herself than to him. Then, remembering her sense of propriety, she asked, "So, you and the Commodore had already planned an intrigue?"
"Your James was a reluctant abolitionist," Liam said. "Had it not been for the deathbed promise he'd made to Lieutenant Adams, he certainly would never have made an appearance. You see, Elizabeth, James made a promise to his best friend to protect his widow. Lieutenant Adams had many enemies due, in part, to his work with me and gambling debts that he owed."
"So that was why he was there with her…" she murmured under her breath, realizing that she had not been witness to the beginning of an illicit tryst.
Liam's eyes widened as she spoke. "Begging your pardon, Elizabeth, but if you didn't know that, how has it passed that I now find you loitering like a lover in the man's bed chamber? I was laboring under the apprehension that the little sprite revealed... that is to say, you no longer feel betrayed by..."
"He has always loved me," Elizabeth said simply, handing the man an unassuming leather-bound book, embossed with silver-leaf. On the inner flap, an inscription was written.
'To: Miss Elizabeth Swann on the eve marking her 16 th year.
With all the care I possess,
James Edward Norrington'
As Liam flipped through the volume, a single sheet of paper floated from the pages and up into the air.
~~San Francisco 1993: James is 29, Carissa is 11 and 25~~
James shut the door behind the middle-aged woman that had been hired to keep house for them. Henry and Marissa, before their death, had taught him the essentials of the kitchen. He'd caught on quickly enough, but all the same, he was glad when the Older Carissa hired help. Truth told, the year he'd spent on his own with the little sprite might have been bleak for him had it not been for the appearance here and there of the grown-up sprite. It was Older Carissa that had arranged for James to teach the art of fencing to university students. After that, he'd gotten quite accustomed to life with his progeny. He cast a glance toward the young sleeping girl and smiled slightly.
"How was your trip back to Port Royal this afternoon?" asked Older Carissa from the kitchenette.
He hadn't heard her pop in—must have been as he'd shut the door.
"It was wonderful to see her again," he told her. "I had forgotten how hope can have the power to regenerate happiness."
He caught a momentary flicker of sadness in the woman's eyes. The powerful flash of pain was squashed as she cast her eyes towards the floor. It was something, James suspected, that she learned from him. When her eyes met his again, the curtains had once again been drawn over her emotions.
"Hope has the power to do many things," she said enigmatically. "I'm glad you've found some."
"Am I right to hope?" he asked, waiting intently for her reaction.
Her eyes widened, as if his doubt was the last thing she was expecting. The slight purse of her lips also told him that she was a bit disappointed that the doubt appeared. So the pain was from her love, then.
"You have the best instincts I've ever known in a man, and your faith is always well placed," she said, emphatically. "So, why are you asking the question?"
"Has he hurt you?" James countered.
"Who?"
"The man you were thinking about just now."
"I hurt myself." She opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly thought the better of it. "But we're talking about your love, not mine. Why are you asking me for confirmation on your future? You've never asked that of me before."
"She still loves the young Mr. Turner."
"She is very fond of him, yes. But, if she loved him so much, what was she doing in your arms? With whom did she spend many childhood hours discussing everything from literature and music to the art of sailing? Who did she spend more time with?" Carissa quickly rattled off question after question. "And didn't I just show you that with the desperation of a young woman in love, she followed you to the docks to have her heart cracked—albeit erroneously through a misunderstanding? I don't understand how you can doubt her feelings."
"She hasn't been the only one in all of this who has suffered a damaged heart," James said quietly. His voice sounded almost hollow. "Not many moons have come and gone since I've asked after the residence of her heart and the answer was..."
"James, I'm so sorry. I forgot," she said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to be insensitive. But don't you realize that..."
"She might have been doing that to hurt me the way she thought I'd hurt her?" James asked, balking with a wry smile. Then he grew sober. "It had crossed my mind. But what I learned from that experience, once-and-future daughter of mine, is that I want to be sure that if we do join our hearts together, that Elizabeth and I both give the whole of our hearts and not just the pieces. She deserves no less than a life without regret."
James watched as Carissa's eyes watered. He noticed that she seemed to be absently touching a ring that hung on a chain about her neck. He wanted to say something, but thought the better it.
"She loves you, have faith in that."
"Will you at least tell me what caused a woman, who previously had been determined to give her heart to another, to linger in my bed like Eve with her damned apple?" James asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Carissa's eyes widened. This show of soft-core misogyny on the part of a man who she, in almost every way, regarded as her father was unsettling. She sometimes forgot the symptoms of her disjointed continuity— she was almost as old, in years, as he... and he was as much a product of his own time as she was of her own. She regarded his question for a moment, unsure how she should respond. Part of her wanted to scold him for referring to the love of his life as an evil seductress. Another part of her acknowledged that he didn't mean it. And most of her wanted to answer the question, but...
"I honestly don't know, James. She has never shared with me her reasons. All I can tell you is to have faith, and that it will turn out all right in the end."
But how, sweet child, how? He desperately wanted to continue questioning Carissa, but he knew it would be fruitless. He held his tongue and did the next best thing. He searched his child's eyes for answers. He'd learned, long ago, that this child could not keep hidden her secrets if one looked into her eyes—and if the looker knew what he was searching for.
Suddenly, he was hit by a series of images that flashed briefly through his mind: this grown child, her eyes filled with immense pain and tragedy, pale blue fabric floating through the air, the ocean, a ring and a book at his feet, a man standing stoic, and another man diving from a cliff. He took a sharp breath. Strange that he should be having a disturbing daydream at this moment. He sighed, letting the images float away on that breath. And he looked at Carissa again. In that look, he was struck by the sense of certainty—and it gave him what she had called faith.
________________________
Upcoming: The main players must all make some hard decisions... An epiphany comes to our hero... James needs to face a horrible memory without the help of Carissa or Liam.
