Disclaimer: No pirates, no commodores, I'm a very unhappy person… I wish I were Disney…

"As I hear, she said 'No'! And here is the best part, Olivia: She's getting married to Will Turner! That funny little blacksmith!"

"No! Really?"

"Heard it straight from my husband."

"Oh, the poor Commodore... He must feel like an absolute fool."

"Well, Olivia, it's not my place to say, but it seems as though he's now Port Royal's most eligible bachelor..."

"It's really too bad we're already married, Charlotte, hm?"

Commodore James Norrington sat in his study, currently engaged in a staring contest with a rather large bottle of brandy.

In his mind, he was weighing his options.

Pro: If I get drunk off my arse, then I won't have to feel bad until tomorrow. Con: But if I do, I'll have a hangover. Pro: The hangover might distract me from my broken heart over Elizabeth. Con: ELIZABETH!!!

He began smashing his head on his mahogany desk, rattling the brandy.

"Oh yes, you're so innocent, you bottle of brandy…" Norrington snarled. "Well, I can see past your tricks! You WANT me to drink you, you WANT me to have a bloody hangover tomorrow, you'd like that very, very much…"

He shrugged.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be rude."

He poured himself a glass.

The next morning, Norrington awoke on the floor. With a hangover.

"Blast that bloody beguiling brandy… damnable dirty disgusting drink… she sells seashells on the seashore…"

"That's very good, d'ye know any others, mate?"

Norrington jumped and stared. Sitting on the windowsill, smiling broadly, was Jack Sparrow.

"What are YOU doing here?"

"Sayin' hello."

Norrington considered this. "Oh. Well, hello. And goodbye. I have a terrible hangover."

Jack cocked his head. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is, and… wait, why are you sitting on my windowsill?"

"'Cause the maid wouldn't let me in."

"Oh." Norrington's brow furrowed as his hazy train of thought went something like this: Sparrow. Sitting. Windowsill. Hello… No, something is wrong there. Windowsill? Maid won't let in. Something is still wrong. Sitting? No. Sparrow? Sparrow… SPARROW???

"You are under arrest, Sparrow!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Captain! Captain Sparrow! And you keep your irons in your study? That's odd, most men I know keep em in the bedroom…"

Study. Irons. Irons are manacles. Manacles… Manacles are needed to arrest. Manacles in study? No, that's not right.

"Just sit tight, and I'll go fetch some from the drawing room."

Jack Sparrow burst out laughing.

Loud.

"Stop, please."

"Listen, Commodore, I just came by to see how you were. After Elizabeth… err…"

"Well now you see. I'm just dandy."

"I want you to know, I really was rootin' fer you, mate. Wasn't just sayin that."

"I'm not your 'mate', Sparrow. And frankly, I don't care." Norrington stumbled his way over to his liquor cabinet and opened it. He could see Sparrow's mouth dropping open in his mind's eye, and a smile twitched at his lips. "Yes, the good Commodore drinks. Good day, Sparrow." He selected the largest bottle of rum he had, and plunked down at his desk.

Jack didn't budge. "So that's it, then? You're just gonna drink yerself into oblivion?"

"That is the plan, yes."

"Givin her up without a fight? That's not the Commodore I know."

Norrington shot him a glare. "What should I do?"

"Win her back, o'course!"

"I thought I tried that already."

"Try harder! Yer an educated man, think o somethin! Somethin… complicated."

"Umm…" Norrington sighed. "Like what? How does one win a woman?"

Jack shook his head. "By makin em jealous, mate."

"Jealous?" Then, a plan hit him harder than an abusive father. "Of course! I make Elizabeth jealous by pretending to be engaged to another woman!"

"Brilliant, Commodore-luv."

"But who..? I don't know any women… except for my sister, but I doubt she'd work…"

"Oh, leave that ter me, Commodore. I have the perfect lass."

Norrington quirked an eyebrow. "…I'm still arresting you, Sparrow."

"CAPTIAN Sparrow. And I don't think ye should be arrestin me just yet, Norry-darlin. I have a lass fer ya. Beautiful, smart, funny… in a way. She'll work fine."

"I have a bad feeling about this."