Norrington wondered if he were dead. He could feel the world rocking below
him. It reminded him of being at sea. He tried to move, but immediately
regretted doing so. Pain flared in his shoulder and he cried out. A moment
later, a hand was at the back of his throbbing head, tilting it forward as
something cool was pressed to his lips. He drank the water without thinking
for a second that it might be poison. The cup and hand left, and only then
did Norrington consider that maybe he wasn't actually dead and began to
wonder where he was. He tried to open his eyes, to find the left one
swollen shut and the other nearly so. He squinted out at the world from his
right eye. There was light coming from somewhere above and behind him, and
the ceiling was of dark brown timbers. The ground below him was still
rocking, and he knew that he must be aboard a ship. One of the pirates
must've taken him. He was probably being held for ransom. He wasn't in the
navy anymore though, and no one would pay the demands. He was going to die
at the hands of brigands like his father before him. How utterly
melodramatic. He really shouldn't be surprised though. He shut his eye
again and tried to breath. Why was it so hard to breath? And why was his
face wet?
The hands returned, this time with a cool cloth gently washing over his face and neck. He grimaced several times as it moved over the numerous sore places.
"Quiet a spill ye had there, Commodore."
The voice sounded familiar, but the haze over his brain prevented him from placing a face or a name with it. He managed to choke out the only thing he could think of to say:
"I'm not a commodore anymore. If you're looking for ransom money, I'm completely worthless."
Rich laughter floated down from above him.
"Oh I wouldn't go so far's t'say a thing like that, commodore or not."
The hands slowly and gently rolled him onto his side.
"I suppose I ought to warn ye, this might hurt a bit."
Something was being pulled off of his aching shoulder. Bandages, it felt like. Something cold was poured over it, and the pain amplified tenfold. He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to show weakness in front of this pirate, whoever he was. Something firmer came down on the wound, rubbing lightly. Finally, he cried out anyhow, and his world turned black again.
----
Edward and James were both home from boarding school for the holidays, and James couldn't have been more displeased. At least at school he was more or less able to avoid his older brother, but at home, he could find no escape. Even after falling several feet out of the tree, he could get no peace from Edward's constant taunting
"You're such a little pansy, James. It's just a scratch. You're seven bloody years old, stop crying like a girl."
"I'm not a girl!"
"Yes you are. You're a big baby girl! Girly-boy! Girly-boy"
"Shut up Edward!"
"Girly-boy, girly-boy, girly-boy!"
"I said stop it!"
"Why should I? Are you going to run to mummy and tell on me like a big baby girl?"
----
"Stop it, Edward!"
His brother finally disappeared. Suddenly, Norrington was startled by a voice that came from across the room.
"Who's Edward?"
He knew that he probably shouldn't reply, after all, if the pirates couldn't ransom him to the navy, they might try his brother. At this point though, he didn't care. He almost wanted them to. He savored the idea of his brother having to cough up a large sum for his incompetent baby brother. A form of revenge. He tried to open his eyes again and was pleased to discover that the left one would open a little now as well. He turned his head to the side, but couldn't make out the source of the voice.
"My older brother."
"Ah. I never knew ye 'ad a brother."
"Why should you even care?"
"Oh Norrington, ye wound me. 'Ave ye so little faith in yer own friends?"
"I should hardly consider—"
Oh God. He knew that voice now. There could be no mistaking it any longer.
"Sparrow!?!?!!"
He sat almost straight up, but his shoulder protested violently to the shift in position, and he cried out for the third time in front of the pirate and fell back against the pillow.
Sparrow practically giggled at him. It was an odd sound.
"That's CAPTAIN Sparrow, mate. How many times must I remind you? Those brutes must've addled yer brains more than I thought. And ye should at least 'ave enough sense not to worry tha' shoulder o' yers. Ye took a shot 'fore I could get those sodding bastards off o' ye."
Norrington shut his eyes again, tightly, and tried to even out his breathing before replying quietly.
"Are you informing me that I owe my life to you, Sparrow?"
"Fer th' last bloody time, tha's CAPTAIN Sparrow. And I'd say it appears tha' way."
Norrington silently prayed that the bed below him would open up and swallow him whole. Although three-legged donkeys would fly through a frozen hell before he'd ever admit it to himself, a piece of him was mildly relieved that Sparrow had found him. That didn't mean he was happy that he now owed the bastard his life, however.
"Ye know, it was the oddest thing I ever saw. At first I couldn't quite believe it, te be honest. The Navy's own sittin' in a Tortuga tavern, drunk and tellin' a rather ridiculous tale. Thought I'd lost me mind fer a minute."
"And what makes you so certain you've still got a mind left to lose, Captain?"
Sparrow just laughed heartily.
"There's me old James Bloody Norrington. Glad te know there's still a shred o' the old Commodore under all those bruises."
Norrington ground his teeth slightly. He hoped Sparrow was grateful that he was currently incapacitated, because had he not been, he probably would've strangled the life out of the pirate that moment.
"If ye need anythin', mate, don' feel afraid te yell."
Like he'd ever ask for anything from Sparrow. He heard the pirate captain stand up from his position at the corner of the room and watched him walk out the door, leaving Norrington to his own thoughts as he lay in the captain's quarters by himself. Norrington only then realized that he was probably on Sparrow's own bed at the moment. He prayed to God and all the saints that the man didn't have lice, or, more likely, fleas.
---
There was little to do in the following hours but think. After all, he could scarcely move without upsetting his shoulder, and his entire face still felt like it had been trod upon by an army. Recent events certainly gave him plenty to think about. He did, however, come to one certain conclusion: Life is very strange. His life in particular had grown rather ridiculous in the past few months. He wondered idly where this ship he was currently guest on would take him. Knowing Sparrow, it would be somewhere equally preposterous.
The barmaid, Dabria, had said that he had the worst luck of anyone this side of the Atlantic. He wasn't a superstitious man in the slightest (which was unusual among sailors), but now he had to wonder if he had indeed been placed under some sort of hex. He mentally prepared the laundry list: First Elizabeth had played him for a sap, using his love for her to get the Turner boy back. In the events that followed, he lost several men and a ship, as well as Elizabeth herself. Ultimately, all he got from following his heart and doing the honorable thing was the loss of his career and life as he knew it. Then in a fit of foolish pride, he turned down governor Swann's offer of a job and joined that bloody merchant's crew. Less than a week later, that leaky ship sunk to the bottom of the ocean, leaving him stranded in Tortuga. From there, he was robbed by a child and later beaten and shot by pirates. And now he'd been delivered into the hands of the one man he had never wanted to see again: Jack Sparrow.
Norrington was distracted from his misery briefly when a dark-skinned woman walked in with a try of food of some sort which she put on the desk. She walked over to him, dragged him into a sitting position rather more roughly than he thought entirely necessary, upsetting his aching shoulder causing him to groan audibly, and all without speaking a word to him. She then retrieved the tray, and deposited it unceremoniously onto his lap before turning away from him abruptly.
"Miss...?"
The woman turned around and shot him a glare that could fry a glacier before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her. He assumed, rather correctly, that she wasn't pleased with his presence aboard the Black Pearl.
He shook his head and looked down at the tray. Pea soup, salt pork, and hard bread. And, predictably enough, a mug of rum. After what happened when he previously drank the cursed brew, he wasn't about to touch it, no matter how much his body ached. Thankfully, there was a cup of water beside it as well. He caught himself thinking that it was kind of Sparrow to offer him an alternative, but squashed it immediately. He still hated the man, after all. He ate the food slowly, even though he was half starving. When he was done, he carefully placed the try on the floor, trying not to spill over the untouched rum. It was somewhat difficult considering that he had only one useable arm at the moment. He lay back down, and boredom and exhaustion took over and he slept again.
----
Norrington slept the rest of the day, waking only when he felt a warm hand on his good shoulder, lightly shaking him. He opened his now somewhat less swollen eyes and his face immediately fell into a scowl when he noticed Sparrow leaning over him with his trademark Cheshire-cat grin.
"Sorry t'interrupt yer nap, sleepin' beauty, but it's supper time."
Before Norrington had a chance to protest to being called something as asinine as "sleeping beauty," another tray was presented to him. He pulled himself upright, this time under his own power thankfully, and took his supper. It was the same meal he'd had for lunch. This time, however, there was no rum. He was even hungrier than he'd been at noon, and dived into his dinner without hesitation. Sparrow just watched him while silently smirking, waiting for Norrington to finish before speaking.
"So, Commodore, please do tell: how does a man like yerself end up in Tortuga dressed like a common man and drunk no less?"
Norrington glared at Sparrow.
"I told you before. I'm not Commodore any longer, or for that matter, an officer of the navy. I'm sure that will amuse you to know end."
He dropped his gaze to his now-empty bowl and waited, expecting the pirate to laugh at him or otherwise ridicule him. He nearly jumped in surprise when the man did neither.
"Sorry te hear tha', mate. May I ask how tha' odd turn of events came about?"
Norrington didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about it, not with anyone, and especially not his former enemy.
"Well, I can see ye don't wan' te discuss it right now. I will make a deal with ye though. I'll hear yer tale b'fore ye can leave this ship. Take as much time as ye wan' to getting to it, but yer gonna tell me. An' when ye have, I'll drop ye off at whatever port ye ask, s'long as it's in th'Atlantic."
"Why could you possibly care less how I got here?"
"Jus' personal curiosity. I can always appreciate an odd tale, and I can't imagine yers being anything but odd. Anyhow, ye've got free run o' me ship fer the time being. I'd stay away from th'crew if I were you, though. A few of 'em aren't too happy about you bein' here. 'Specially Anamaria. Ye met her at lunch, I s'pose. Ye can take yer meals in here if ye don't want to eat with 'em."
Norrington hated Sparrow. He hated even more so at that moment than ever before. How dare that pirate pry into his personal life! A bit of sport, that's all he was to Sparrow. That's all anyone was to Sparrow: a bit of sport and little else. Nothing but a game.
Sparrow turned to leave, and was halfway to the door when he stopped, looking back over his shoulder at Norrington.
"Ye know, it doesn't make ye any less of a man te accept a bit o' help from others now and then... Or a bit o' sympathy neither."
He left the room before Norrington could argue. Not that he could think of anything to say in response anyhow, though he could've ripped the man's head off if he'd had the strength to do so.
The hands returned, this time with a cool cloth gently washing over his face and neck. He grimaced several times as it moved over the numerous sore places.
"Quiet a spill ye had there, Commodore."
The voice sounded familiar, but the haze over his brain prevented him from placing a face or a name with it. He managed to choke out the only thing he could think of to say:
"I'm not a commodore anymore. If you're looking for ransom money, I'm completely worthless."
Rich laughter floated down from above him.
"Oh I wouldn't go so far's t'say a thing like that, commodore or not."
The hands slowly and gently rolled him onto his side.
"I suppose I ought to warn ye, this might hurt a bit."
Something was being pulled off of his aching shoulder. Bandages, it felt like. Something cold was poured over it, and the pain amplified tenfold. He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to show weakness in front of this pirate, whoever he was. Something firmer came down on the wound, rubbing lightly. Finally, he cried out anyhow, and his world turned black again.
----
Edward and James were both home from boarding school for the holidays, and James couldn't have been more displeased. At least at school he was more or less able to avoid his older brother, but at home, he could find no escape. Even after falling several feet out of the tree, he could get no peace from Edward's constant taunting
"You're such a little pansy, James. It's just a scratch. You're seven bloody years old, stop crying like a girl."
"I'm not a girl!"
"Yes you are. You're a big baby girl! Girly-boy! Girly-boy"
"Shut up Edward!"
"Girly-boy, girly-boy, girly-boy!"
"I said stop it!"
"Why should I? Are you going to run to mummy and tell on me like a big baby girl?"
----
"Stop it, Edward!"
His brother finally disappeared. Suddenly, Norrington was startled by a voice that came from across the room.
"Who's Edward?"
He knew that he probably shouldn't reply, after all, if the pirates couldn't ransom him to the navy, they might try his brother. At this point though, he didn't care. He almost wanted them to. He savored the idea of his brother having to cough up a large sum for his incompetent baby brother. A form of revenge. He tried to open his eyes again and was pleased to discover that the left one would open a little now as well. He turned his head to the side, but couldn't make out the source of the voice.
"My older brother."
"Ah. I never knew ye 'ad a brother."
"Why should you even care?"
"Oh Norrington, ye wound me. 'Ave ye so little faith in yer own friends?"
"I should hardly consider—"
Oh God. He knew that voice now. There could be no mistaking it any longer.
"Sparrow!?!?!!"
He sat almost straight up, but his shoulder protested violently to the shift in position, and he cried out for the third time in front of the pirate and fell back against the pillow.
Sparrow practically giggled at him. It was an odd sound.
"That's CAPTAIN Sparrow, mate. How many times must I remind you? Those brutes must've addled yer brains more than I thought. And ye should at least 'ave enough sense not to worry tha' shoulder o' yers. Ye took a shot 'fore I could get those sodding bastards off o' ye."
Norrington shut his eyes again, tightly, and tried to even out his breathing before replying quietly.
"Are you informing me that I owe my life to you, Sparrow?"
"Fer th' last bloody time, tha's CAPTAIN Sparrow. And I'd say it appears tha' way."
Norrington silently prayed that the bed below him would open up and swallow him whole. Although three-legged donkeys would fly through a frozen hell before he'd ever admit it to himself, a piece of him was mildly relieved that Sparrow had found him. That didn't mean he was happy that he now owed the bastard his life, however.
"Ye know, it was the oddest thing I ever saw. At first I couldn't quite believe it, te be honest. The Navy's own sittin' in a Tortuga tavern, drunk and tellin' a rather ridiculous tale. Thought I'd lost me mind fer a minute."
"And what makes you so certain you've still got a mind left to lose, Captain?"
Sparrow just laughed heartily.
"There's me old James Bloody Norrington. Glad te know there's still a shred o' the old Commodore under all those bruises."
Norrington ground his teeth slightly. He hoped Sparrow was grateful that he was currently incapacitated, because had he not been, he probably would've strangled the life out of the pirate that moment.
"If ye need anythin', mate, don' feel afraid te yell."
Like he'd ever ask for anything from Sparrow. He heard the pirate captain stand up from his position at the corner of the room and watched him walk out the door, leaving Norrington to his own thoughts as he lay in the captain's quarters by himself. Norrington only then realized that he was probably on Sparrow's own bed at the moment. He prayed to God and all the saints that the man didn't have lice, or, more likely, fleas.
---
There was little to do in the following hours but think. After all, he could scarcely move without upsetting his shoulder, and his entire face still felt like it had been trod upon by an army. Recent events certainly gave him plenty to think about. He did, however, come to one certain conclusion: Life is very strange. His life in particular had grown rather ridiculous in the past few months. He wondered idly where this ship he was currently guest on would take him. Knowing Sparrow, it would be somewhere equally preposterous.
The barmaid, Dabria, had said that he had the worst luck of anyone this side of the Atlantic. He wasn't a superstitious man in the slightest (which was unusual among sailors), but now he had to wonder if he had indeed been placed under some sort of hex. He mentally prepared the laundry list: First Elizabeth had played him for a sap, using his love for her to get the Turner boy back. In the events that followed, he lost several men and a ship, as well as Elizabeth herself. Ultimately, all he got from following his heart and doing the honorable thing was the loss of his career and life as he knew it. Then in a fit of foolish pride, he turned down governor Swann's offer of a job and joined that bloody merchant's crew. Less than a week later, that leaky ship sunk to the bottom of the ocean, leaving him stranded in Tortuga. From there, he was robbed by a child and later beaten and shot by pirates. And now he'd been delivered into the hands of the one man he had never wanted to see again: Jack Sparrow.
Norrington was distracted from his misery briefly when a dark-skinned woman walked in with a try of food of some sort which she put on the desk. She walked over to him, dragged him into a sitting position rather more roughly than he thought entirely necessary, upsetting his aching shoulder causing him to groan audibly, and all without speaking a word to him. She then retrieved the tray, and deposited it unceremoniously onto his lap before turning away from him abruptly.
"Miss...?"
The woman turned around and shot him a glare that could fry a glacier before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her. He assumed, rather correctly, that she wasn't pleased with his presence aboard the Black Pearl.
He shook his head and looked down at the tray. Pea soup, salt pork, and hard bread. And, predictably enough, a mug of rum. After what happened when he previously drank the cursed brew, he wasn't about to touch it, no matter how much his body ached. Thankfully, there was a cup of water beside it as well. He caught himself thinking that it was kind of Sparrow to offer him an alternative, but squashed it immediately. He still hated the man, after all. He ate the food slowly, even though he was half starving. When he was done, he carefully placed the try on the floor, trying not to spill over the untouched rum. It was somewhat difficult considering that he had only one useable arm at the moment. He lay back down, and boredom and exhaustion took over and he slept again.
----
Norrington slept the rest of the day, waking only when he felt a warm hand on his good shoulder, lightly shaking him. He opened his now somewhat less swollen eyes and his face immediately fell into a scowl when he noticed Sparrow leaning over him with his trademark Cheshire-cat grin.
"Sorry t'interrupt yer nap, sleepin' beauty, but it's supper time."
Before Norrington had a chance to protest to being called something as asinine as "sleeping beauty," another tray was presented to him. He pulled himself upright, this time under his own power thankfully, and took his supper. It was the same meal he'd had for lunch. This time, however, there was no rum. He was even hungrier than he'd been at noon, and dived into his dinner without hesitation. Sparrow just watched him while silently smirking, waiting for Norrington to finish before speaking.
"So, Commodore, please do tell: how does a man like yerself end up in Tortuga dressed like a common man and drunk no less?"
Norrington glared at Sparrow.
"I told you before. I'm not Commodore any longer, or for that matter, an officer of the navy. I'm sure that will amuse you to know end."
He dropped his gaze to his now-empty bowl and waited, expecting the pirate to laugh at him or otherwise ridicule him. He nearly jumped in surprise when the man did neither.
"Sorry te hear tha', mate. May I ask how tha' odd turn of events came about?"
Norrington didn't reply. He didn't want to talk about it, not with anyone, and especially not his former enemy.
"Well, I can see ye don't wan' te discuss it right now. I will make a deal with ye though. I'll hear yer tale b'fore ye can leave this ship. Take as much time as ye wan' to getting to it, but yer gonna tell me. An' when ye have, I'll drop ye off at whatever port ye ask, s'long as it's in th'Atlantic."
"Why could you possibly care less how I got here?"
"Jus' personal curiosity. I can always appreciate an odd tale, and I can't imagine yers being anything but odd. Anyhow, ye've got free run o' me ship fer the time being. I'd stay away from th'crew if I were you, though. A few of 'em aren't too happy about you bein' here. 'Specially Anamaria. Ye met her at lunch, I s'pose. Ye can take yer meals in here if ye don't want to eat with 'em."
Norrington hated Sparrow. He hated even more so at that moment than ever before. How dare that pirate pry into his personal life! A bit of sport, that's all he was to Sparrow. That's all anyone was to Sparrow: a bit of sport and little else. Nothing but a game.
Sparrow turned to leave, and was halfway to the door when he stopped, looking back over his shoulder at Norrington.
"Ye know, it doesn't make ye any less of a man te accept a bit o' help from others now and then... Or a bit o' sympathy neither."
He left the room before Norrington could argue. Not that he could think of anything to say in response anyhow, though he could've ripped the man's head off if he'd had the strength to do so.