Making the Rounds

It had been nearly a week since the pirate hunt and the injuries to Norrington and Gillette.  James had spent a good two days resting, thanks to Katherine's incessant monitoring and unwavering attitude.  She had visited Matthieu nearly everyday, being sure to put on one of her brightest smiles to cheer him up.  The young Lievtenant was feeling rather weak and somewhat depressed of his condition and inability to take part in his duties, but he certainly felt much more relieved when Katherine stopped by to keep him company for a bit. 

One morning after Katherine had returned from the Fort, she and James were taking tea in their sitting room.  "How is Matthieu doing, then?" inquired James eagerly.

"Oh, so it is 'Matthieu' now, is it?" teased Katherine as she gave her brother a sarcastic smile. 

James simply leaned back in the chair and returned the smile.  "It has always been 'Matthieu' to me, Katherine, but not for you," he retorted.  James looked down as he sipped some tea.  "Besides, you have been kind enough to help him for the past few days, I see no harm in you calling him by his given name now."

"So you do approve of him calling on me," said Katherine quietly. 

Norrington looked straight back up.  "I said you may call him 'Matthieu,' not marry him," he stressed as he looked back to his tea.

Katherine simply smiled at her brother as she pondered what to say.  "He's doing quite well, or so says Quinlan," she started.  "He seems to be getting much stronger, though his shoulder does hurt him quite a lot.  It's hard to say, James…he seems to not be happy with his recovery.  He simply does not want to accept being bedridden.  Much like you, I'm afraid."

"I daresay we get that trait from the overbearing desire to be successful," James said.  "Matthieu is a fine officer, and one aspect of being a fine officer is not looking vulnerable to the men.  Gives them confidence, you see.  So naturally, being an invalid does not come easily to either of us."

"I gathered that," said Katherine as she gazed over at James.  She paused a moment before changing the subject.  "I suspect that Miss Reynolds will be arriving shortly.  Is there any word of Mr. Meyerson or the Cavalier?"

"I rarely receive word of merchant vessels since they are not in my charge.  Ships in general are difficult to track once at sea anyway," started James.  "Though if I am correct, the Cavalier is due to arrive within the week."

Katherine leaned back on the couch and smiled to herself as she gazed out the window.  "I shall be most delighted to see Miss Reynolds when she arrives.  It's been so long…"

Norrington looked over to his sister and followed her gaze out into the bay.  "You must have been quite close with her then."

"We were like sisters," began Katherine, the smile never leaving her face.  "We spent four years in each other's company and I believe it is perfectly acceptable to say that we kept each other sane in that dreadful school.  She has a wonderful, dry sense of humor, and never seemed to mind my boisterous personality."  She glanced over to James, who was about to open his mouth and say something witty about Katherine's personality.  "Don't even think it, James Norrington!" she spat as she noticed the sarcastic look in her brother's eyes.  James merely smiled and spread his hands as if he had nothing to do with it. 

"I was actually thinking of having Gillette down for tea this afternoon," he said as he changed the subject.  "I shall send for a carriage and assist him.  I'm sure that an hour or two out of the hospital would do him good."

"I thought you said you were going out this afternoon?" stated Katherine curiously.

James stood up as he turned back toward her.  "I have a small bit of business to complete with one of my officers, then I shall assist Gillette back here for tea."

"Whatever happened to you not approving of him seeing me?" asked Katherine with a playful tone.  She was pleased, though somewhat confused, over her brother's change of heart.  James simply looked at her.

"Well he is my friend, too," he said he donned his wig and hat.  "The Commodore is allowed to establish some sort of personal connection with other human beings on a higher level than simple military courtesy, you know."

"And what, then, is your hesitation?" she demanded.

James lifted his arms in an attempt to express himself, but let them fall back to his sides.  "The entire situation is strange, that is all…"

"Strange?"

"Awkward," James covered.  "Because he is both my subordinate and my friend, it makes the entire idea of him seeing you quite awkward for me."

Katherine scoffed and glared up at James.  "And have you ever considered how it felt for either Matthieu or me?  Good God, James, it's not simply about you," she stated calmly as a well-meaning smile crossed her face. 

"I said I would discuss this with the both of you, and I most certainly will.  However," he paused has he straightened his cravat, "it will have to be at a later date.  I am off to the Fort for a time being, and will return in time for tea with Lievtenant Gillette in tow."

The Commodore departed quickly and enjoyed the fleeting carriage ride to Fort Charles.  Upon his arrival he sent for Captain Martin.  The words the two had exchanged the week before on the docks would finally be dealt with.  Norrington sighed as he entered his office and placed his hat on the cluttered desk.  He paused as he stood and fingered the stacks of paper that had found their way to the top of the fine carved wood, and shook his head at the thought.  It isn't enough worrying about drowning in the ocean that drowning in paperwork is my largest concern…James made himself comfortable behind the desk and had just begun sorting through new rosters when a knock fell upon the door.  He paused as he held one of the papers and looked at the door.  Norrington was certainly not looking forward to the following conversation, but he had enough of Martin's poor demeanor.  The time for action had come.  He placed the paper back on the desk and stood up as he straightened his waistcoat and approached the door.  The Commodore grasped the knob and drew a breath before opening the door and peering down at Captain Martin.

"Commodore Norrington," saluted Martin with a taste of irritation.  "You wished to speak to me, sir."

Norrington studied Martin for a moment as he towered over the older officer.  Martin's graying hair was stuffed under his powdered wig, and his white cravat was done untidily and tucked into his waistcoat.  James refrained from shaking his head.  Martin was out on leave that week, but that was certainly no excuse for a less-than-neat appearance in uniform.  "Yes, Captain.  Please, come in and sit down."  Martin nodded and took a seat across from the Commodore's desk.  Norrington closed the door and slowly made his way back to his desk with his hands folded carefully behind his back.  "I believe you know why I asked you here, Captain, so let us dispense with the pretense," James started.  He came to stand behind his desk and looked down at Martin.  "I have found your conduct most inappropriate and disappointing.  Your lack of enthusiasm and dedication to your duties make it quite difficult for me to entrust you with the safety of the vessels and communities under our protection, and your poor attitude is affecting my staff in a negative manner -"

"I protest," Martin instinctively leaned forward in his chair as he moved to defend himself.  His face had become quite red with the searing hatred he had for Norrington and the entire situation he now found himself in.

"You will say nothing, Captain," declared Norrington as he quickly spread his arms along the table and hovered over Martin.  "You forget on a regular basis that I hold the rank here, and you will show me the appropriate courtesy or face the consequences.  I have had enough of your incessant complaining and protests, and will tolerate them no more.  You are an officer of the line and a gentleman by rank, and therefore I expect far more civilized behavior from your manner.  Now, if my position here is a source of embarrassment or resentment for you, I highly suggest you put it behind you.  I am not here to make your career miserable or thrust you into the very pit of humiliation you so openly dread," asserted Norrington as he gracefully took his seat across from Martin and continued to look confidently into his eyes.  "I am here as the commander of Fort Charles and the Port Royale fleet, and you, sir, are one of my more experienced officers.  My duty is to protect all those who fall under my reach.  It is your duty to see your orders through in the best interests of the fleet.  And though you may very well protest, I am the Commodore because I possess the greatest familiarity in the Caribbean and the threats that exist here.  If we found ourselves in the North Sea, I am quite sure the situation would be reversed."

The Captain began to ease back into the chair, but the grimace had not left his face.  He was incensed to be reprimanded by a much younger, less experienced officer.  Norrington sat still and observed Martin's expression.  James knew that Martin was embarrassed of his post and the fact that Norrington was so much younger than he.  But Norrington would be damned to grovel, as he was sure Martin would have wished, simply due to seniority.  Secondly, the man did not deserve it.   Moments later Martin gathered his hat and stood.  "I expect full cooperation from you in the future, Captain," said Norrington as he stood up from behind his desk and approached Martin.  The older officer looked up at the Commodore as he replaced his hat and saluted half-heartedly.  Once Martin had left, James sighed and moved back to his chair and quickly gathered the appropriate paperwork to take home and sort through in peace.  He then placed his cover back on his head and walked out toward the hospital ward with great purpose in his step.

Lievtenant Gillette had been studying one of the older supply lists for the Navigator – which he had demanded out of pure boredom – when he heard a brisk knock on his door.  "Enter," he said, his tone lifting some in anticipation.  James opened the door slowly and stuck his head in.

"Matthieu," Norrington said as he entered the room and closed the door.  A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gazed upon his longtime friend and second in command.  "How is my best Lievtenant this fine day?"

Gillette turned to the Commodore and smiled.  "Your best Lievtenant would greatly appreciate it if you would do him the courtesy of a pistol to the head," he said sardonically as he shook his head.  "James, you have to tell Quinlan to ease off.  I shall go quite mad with him constantly hovering over me!"

James chuckled as he sat on the corner of the bed.  "I nearly feel sorry for you, being in such close proximity to our dear surgeon's reach.  But of course, you are not the only one who's been obsessed over," he sighed. 

Gillette tilted his head in confusion.  "He's been hounding you then as well?"

"To no end," James said through gritted teeth.  "Aiden is a dear acquaintance of mine, but I fear his unremitting medical pursuits and damned wit will do me in as well."  Norrington turned to Gillette in disbelief.  "He comes to my house and gives me grief.  There is no escaping him."

"I somehow manage to believe that, actually," Gillette said as he nodded slowly.  His eyebrows raised in thought.  "I cannot imagine what Miss Katherine thinks of the situation."

James placed a hand behind him on the bed and leaned back.  "She encourages him, you know…thinks it is amusing," he said with a straight tone and a grimace.  "So in short, Matthieu, I would be happy to tell Quinlan to ease off, but it would not do either of us a bit of good.  He would simply declare I was still concussed and continue to make our lives miserable."

"And Katherine would be enjoying every moment of it," assumed Gillette with a nod.

"Exactly," declared James.  He looked away and then stood up.  "I am here to invite you to tea at my house this afternoon, should you decide to escape the dungeon.  I recently finished with Martin and my desk is positively buried in outstanding rosters, recruitments, manifests, and one or two dinner party invitations which I have no intention of attending with any sort of pleasure - "

"You spoke with Martin?" inquired Gillette as he painfully leaned forward in interest and grinned.  "Well, you are still alive, so it could not have gone too badly.  You didn't threaten to hang him from a yardarm, did you?" he asked intently.

"Of course not!" Norrington retorted.  "Though, it is not as if the thought did not cross my mind.  Come, get dressed and I shall meet you just outside the door.  I have a carriage waiting.  We must leave without drawing too much attention to ourselves, because I have not exactly cleared this with the surgeon."

"Covert operations, I like it," whispered Gillette with a grin.

Within the half-hour the two arrived at Norrington's house.  Gillette managed to get around well enough on his own, albeit somewhat slowly.  The fresh air and change of scenery was doing him quite a bit of good.  He, Norrington, and Katherine made themselves comfortable in the sitting room as tea was served.  Their conversation was lively and eventually found itself on the subject of the Black Pearl and the goings-on of three months prior.

"I am not entirely sure I understand the situation.  You're telling me you fought dead pirates?" inquired Katherine as she tried to keep the confusion to a minimum.  She glanced over to her left at James, who simply leaned forward to take more tea.  She looked back across the table to Gillette.  He paused and blinked as he tried to find the appropriate words to describe the events.

"Well, not so much 'dead'…just…not living," he said.  His glance darted from Katherine, to his teacup, and then across to Norrington, who was now staring at him incredulously.

"Matthieu, that has to be the worst explanation I have ever heard," James muttered as he continued to stare at Gillette.

Katherine quickly turned to her brother, her cup still in her hand.  "How does the great Commodore explain it, then?" she asked playfully.

Norrington paused for a moment.  He had been through this scenario several times with countless ladies and gentlemen of the Port Royale gentry, all to no avail.  They usually left the conversation more confused than they had entered.  James drew a breath and continued.  "They were cursed, and so they could not die.  They needed Mr. Turner's blood to lift the curse, but were not going to do so until they had eliminated the threat I posed, and so they fought us.  There is nothing on this earth quite like dueling with an undead skeleton pirate.  No matter how hard we fought, they simply did not drop.  I ran the same one through perhaps half a dozen times with absolutely no result.  They just kept pressing, and pressing, and…" James glanced over to Katherine and noticed her blank expression.  "…and you're not believing a word I'm saying."

Katherine simply placed her cup on the tray as she smiled and took James's right arm.  "I think you knocked your head a bit harder than we first anticipated."  He simply stared at her in his loss for words.

"No no no…It's not James, Katherine," said Gillette quickly.  "Ask anyone – Governor Swann, Miss Swann, Mr. Turner.  Ask any of our men.  Mr. Murtogg and Mr. Mullroy, for example, talk of it quite often."

Norrington turned to Gillette and groaned.  "Don't ask Mr. Murtogg," he pleaded through gritted teeth.  "I have just gotten the man focusing at the present Fort activities, and the last thing anyone needs is a reason for him to go off analyzing the situation again."  Gillette and Katherine merely looked at each other and chuckled softly.  She then patted James on the arm once and stood up from the couch as she made her way to the neglected harpsichord sitting in the far corner of the room.  She delicately ran her fingers over the keys before glancing back at James and Matthieu, who were both watching her intently. 

"I realize you both have had a difficult week," she started as she looked at the two gentlemen.  "I composed something on the crossing from England and have waited patiently for the opportunity to share it with you.  I think now is a good time, is it not?" she asked as an eager smile crossed her face.  James leaned back on the couch and spread his arm along the back as he watched his sister.  Katherine gingerly took her seat at the harpsichord as her hands found their place along the keyboard.  Almost instantly a soft melody filled the room, followed by a wave of sweeping chords as Katherine lifted her voice above the music.  Her words flew from her heart as she became lost in the powerful melody.

"They say there's a place, where dreams have all gone.

They never say where, but I think I know.

It's miles through the night, just over the dawn.

On the road that will take me home.

I know in my bones I've been here before,

The ground feels the same, though the land's been torn.

I've a long way to go, the stars tell me so,

On this road that will take me home.

Love waits for me round the bend,

Leads me endlessly on,

Surely sorrows shall find their end

And all our troubles will be gone.

And I'll know what I've lost,

And all that I've won,

When the road finally takes me home.

And when I pass by, don't lead me astray.

Don't try to stop me, don't stand in my way.

I'm bound for the hills, where cool waters flow

On this road that will take me home.

Love waits for me round the bend,

Leads me endlessly on,

Surely sorrows shall find their end

And all our troubles will be gone.

And I'll know what we've lost,

And all that we've won,

When the road finally takes me home. I'm going home…

I'm going home…

A soft, satisfied smile gradually invaded James's expression as Katherine finished.  He had forgotten her passion for music.  Gillette remained still as he stared at the lovely figure at the harpsichord.  Matthieu knew very little about music, but he could tell from the passion she poured into the lyrics that the song meant a great deal to her.

"Positively splendid, Katherine," said James as he stood up and gazed at his sister.

"If I may be so bold," started Matthieu, "what was the inspiration?"

Katherine turned to him and grinned before approaching James.  "You were," she said softly as she looked up at her brother.  "You, and my chance to experience freedom and life without bounds."  She quickly stole a glance at Gillette.  "I am home now."

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Song lyrics for "Going Home" copyright 2002 by Mary Fahl.  Taken off the Gods and Generals soundtrack.

And thank you all for waiting patiently for the updates to Broadsides.  I have been struggling with the move back to school and internet connectivity problems in my residence hall, so getting on here to work on things has been difficult at best.  Look back here often because the story's about to get good!  Thank you for your wonderful comments, I greatly appreciate them.