Scars Run Deep

"Bloody unbelievable," Norrington muttered as he saddled Darby quickly in the Fort's stable, the venom still pulsing in his voice. "The man deserves a hundred lashes for what he has done, but he won't get it." James reached down around the horse's barrel and grasped the girth to attach it. Darby grunted slightly at the hasty adjustment, but continued mouthing his hay as his owner continued his personal tirade.

Why he had not ordered a court-martial for Martin sooner, James could not say. Martin was insubordinate, brash, and completely inappropriate at times and deserved far more than he received. James closed his eyes before resting his head against the saddle and sighing. Martin was his problem, and should have been dealt with far sooner. James knew that it was because he was a green commander in the scope of His Majesty's Service – Post Captain by 30 is an achievement in itself, but only a year later he was appointed Commodore, commanding Fort Charles and the Port Royale fleet. He did not realize how unprepared he actually was.

Punishing those under one's command is never an easy task, no matter how removed the commander makes himself. Norrington had never had to punish his men severely; the occasional charge of drunkenness earned the unfortunate sailor 12 lashes, and was usually accompanied by another dozen for neglect of duty, or other minor offences that were caused by the original inebriation in the first place. The most severe punishment Norrington ordered was on two sailors that had been caught for desertion not more than three years prior. They were flogged and returned to duty as protocol demanded.

The Articles of War dictated the crimes and the punishment, but they never made the actual deed easy on anyone. Punishments were carried out publicly on board, all hands present, and a squad of armed Marines standing by to assure the punishment was carried out without interruption. The ship's officers presided as the crew watched and learned from the unfortunate sailor's mistakes. Public humiliation was often just as great and profound as the cat 'o nine tails itself.

That is what Martin deserved, James thought as straightened himself up and adjusted the horse's breastplate. He deserved to have all of Port Royale there and mocking him for his inappropriate decisions. He deserved to see his command ripped out from under him and given to another officer. He deserved to feel the full effects of that knotted rope upon his back. But Norrington knew what faced him was probably more grim. More grim, perhaps, but not nearly as satisfying.

James reprimanded himself for wanting such revenge. Martin would soon find himself in front of a board assembled by the Admiralty itself, facing charges ranging from neglecting orders, contempt of superior, delay of action against the enemy, disobedience of superior, infamous behavior, and anything else Norrington could stack against him that Martin undoubtedly deserved. Several of the charges on their own called for death; if found guilty of any of those, Martin would be facing a firing squad. Each additional charge did nothing to help Martin's case, and James knew inside that there was little chance of anything but the drop of a handkerchief and the end of Martin's life. And the Commodore knew he would never feel comforted by that fact.

Martin's ridiculous actions were enough to frustrate James, but what he felt now was not frustration – it was outrage. True, the laws of the sea governed Norrington's life and he held them in the highest regard, but for some reason it was not Martin's dereliction of duty that made him see red during that recent, violent encounter. It was not Martin's damned attitude that made James want to strangle the life out of him. No, it was the idea of Martin putting his hands on Miss Reynolds that enraged James so.

He paused after he slid the bridle over Darby's silver ears. James had never admitted his feelings for Miss Reynolds to anyone – and hardly admitted them to himself. He was so cautious now in the affairs of the heart that it was infinitely less painful to simply continue on has he always had – single, alone, and wounded. Elizabeth's rejection was painful enough in that he lost the woman he loved, but though he was over her loss and pleased she was happy with her husband, the hurt returned whenever he thought of declaring his love for another. Rejection was something he did not want to bear again.

Commodore Norrington had faced many a blade in his successful career. He had been wounded several times, and stared death in the face in the form of flying rounds, falling rigging, splintering wood, piercing balls fired from above, and full on broadsides from enemy line of battle ships. But cold steal was tangible; it was something he could see, parry, and avoid. It could be pulled from his body and his physical form could be healed. He understood those deadly objects. But emotion was not something he could see, touch, or understand easily. Love, loss, and learning to love again were confusing and painful. It wounded him in ways that could not be sutured, and the scars ran deep.

Life in His Majesty's Service was in many ways a simple one. James knew his duty and pursued it until it was completed. His orders were always straightforward, the initiative never lost. The enemy was to be engaged and destroyed, and the Crown defended. It was written in ink and there for all to see. Kill or be killed was often the way of it, though that was hardly how action was described in polite society. The line was drawn, and was clear as night and day.

But that line was blurred with the events surrounding the Black Pearl. James had to choose between his duty and the moral right. He wanted to save the one Elizabeth loved as a deed to her, but it would cost him and his men. Many paid with their lives, and it hurt Norrington greatly to think about that. And then there was Jack Sparrow – James recognized his good intentions. He was a good man, but he was a pirate, and duty told Norrington that Sparrow must hang. But his emotion said no. The confusion he felt that day on the battlements would never be forgotten.

James mounted Darby and urged him on into a canter down toward Meyerson's elegant home. The grey gelding's cadenced gait rocked gently underneath his rider. It was like the gentle rocking of the waves, James noted as they continued down the road. A knot began to form in his stomach as he rode on. He had conversed with Miss Reynolds many times since her arrival in Port Royale. She was an utterly charming lady, that he knew. He felt comfortable in her relaxed presence. She was soft-spoken, unlike Katherine, but demonstrated her own form of resolve. He admired her quiet strength, having lost most of her family and packing up her life to start anew in another part of the world.

But now the situation was different. He had wanted to talk to her several times since Katherine's death, but he simply could not bring himself to. He did not know what to say, and his focus was simply gone with his sister's quick passing. However, James knew that those awkward moments did not matter now. Miss Reynolds had been done wrong, and he had a moral obligation to make it right.

He slowed Darby to a walk as he entered the drive, then dismounted and tied the horse to the hitching post as he removed his uniform hat and placed it neatly under his arm. James knocked on the door and waited, taking in the simple, yet elegant collections of flowers on either side of the house. Moments later a servant answered the door and invited the Commodore in as he retrieved Miss Reynolds. Marcus heard the knock as well and put his book aside to enter the receiving room and was quite pleased with the discovery.

"Commodore, it is a great pleasure to see you again, sir," Marcus greeted as he performed a quick little bow.

James turned from the vase he was studying and mustered a quick smile. "As always, Mister Reynolds, I am pleased to come, though I regret the reason for my visit is less than pleasurable." Norrington paused for a moment before folding his hands casually behind his back and fingering the gold brocade of his hat. "I trust you are still eager to learn more of the art of fencing?" he asked the lad, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Marcus's face lit up. "As ever, sir! I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to teach me. It is most generous of you, sir."

James expressed a fleeting smile as he glanced to the floor. As he looked back up, he discovered Melissa at the top of the stairs. He paused as he tried to find his voice. "Miss Reynolds - " he began.

"Commodore! My goodness, how relieving it is to see you," Melissa greeted. Her delicate hand flew to her chest as she quickly made her way down the stairs.

James was a bit taken back by her worried tone and obvious show of concern. He always considered her to act genuinely, but like most social ladies, she was always so composed and proper. As she approached him now, he could see the redness around her eyes, and the knot in his stomach returned. He drew a hesitant breath. "Miss Reynolds, apologize for my intrusion, but if you at all have the time to spare, I must speak with you."

"Of course," she said as she looked around for an appropriate area for them to converse. Marcus nodded to himself and offered to return upstairs. Melissa led James into an adjacent room.

"Commodore, if I may first say how very sorry I am about Katherine," she declared. She was now trying to say the thing she could not manage to before.

"Thank you," Norrington replied quietly.

"I suppose it was just her time," Melissa said, unsure of where to take the conversation. She looked down. "I will miss her more than I can fathom."

James looked out the large picture window and paused. "As will I." A great silence fell over them as they both failed to look at each other and continue. Melissa sensed that wall she had feared forming between them. She moved to speak, but James spoke first.

"Miss Reynolds," he started stiffly. "It has recently come to my attention that a great wrong has been done to you." He glanced over to her. Melissa furrowed her brow slightly in confusion and urged him silently to continue. "I was informed today that two weeks ago, you had an unfortunate encounter with Captain Martin…"

"Yes, but I hardly think that matters now," Melissa said, shaking her head. James looked over to her once more.

"Whatever he did, Miss Reynolds, I apologize. He had no right to act in such a manner in a lady's presence. Martin is a scoundrel and will now be dealt with to the highest form of the law for his past actions." James paused and allowed his eyes to fall to the floor. "I regret I was not there to keep him from laying his hands on you," he said solemnly, thinking back to that dreadful day. Her encounter with Martin occurred as James was riding headlong into oblivion after being practically destroyed by the news of Katherine's death. He was not there to help on that he loved because he was devastated from losing another.

Melissa's eyes, too, fell to the floor. She understood the point he was making and it pained her to think of it. "James please, please do not trouble yourself over this. It happened right after you had heard of…Considering what had happened, it does not matter anymore," she whispered.

"It does," he said as he took a step toward her and looked into her beautiful grey eyes. It mattered now because he knew he loved her. He loved her soft smile, her golden hair, her calm demeanor, and her sense of humor. He loved the way she laughed and teased in Katherine's presence, and hoped that he, too, could share in her laughter. James remembered the short time he, Katherine, and Melissa had been able to spend together. He remembered Katherine's constant sermons on being true to one's heart. What he had usually dismissed as ramblings from the romantic younger sister, he now took to be truth. James felt emboldened as he took Melissa's hand delicately in his and led her to the sofa. They sat and he turned to her once again.

"It matters more than you know, Melissa," he began. James could feel his heart beat faster as her Christian name sounded on his lips. He felt more and more anxious with each passing second as the thought of what he was about to say flew from his heart to his head. He drew a long breath and spoke confidently. "It was wrong of Martin, terribly wrong. But it was wrong of me also…I should never have allowed him to lay a hand on the woman I love."

Melissa's eyes flew from the sofa up to his. As improper as it was, she could not help but allow her mouth to fall open in complete surprise. Her heart skipped not one beat, but several as she looked at him. James tilted his head slightly as he allowed a boyish smile to take over his face. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was a bold move by a man who normally avoided such things. But James was beginning to discover that like a threat upon the ocean, love needed to be met head on.

He looked to Melissa now, the smile still controlling his expression. He nearly felt like laughing for the first time since Katherine's death. He watched Melissa's cheeks flush as she looked down to the sofa once more. But as she looked down, that soft smile of hers appeared. She looked back up to James and stared into his emerald eyes.

"This may not be entirely appropriate," he said. "Lord knows I should still be grieving over her death, but I should doubt that Katherine would have it any other way."

Melissa's thoughts flew back to the last time she saw Katherine before the accident, when they were discussing James's affection and Katherine made it more than clear of her matchmaking intentions. "No," Melissa began, the smile widening on her face. "I do not think she would!"

There was a sudden, sinking feeling in James's stomach. The smile faded some from his face, and Melissa grew concerned. The enormous thing weighing on James's mind was written on his expression.

"What's wrong, James?" Melissa asked, placing a hand over his.

James's glance moved to the floor. He loved her. He had loved her from the moment she stepped off the Cavalier months before. He saw his sister in her, but more importantly, he saw who she was, and wanted to be apart of her life. But what right did he have to her? He had not inquired to Joshua Meyerson at all, and her father was dead…Lord, why was he thinking like this! People will look upon him poorly, seeing that he should still be mourning the loss of his dear sister. But James knew that Katherine would not have him moping about in sadness and self-hate. If there was one thing she tried to teach him, it was to throw caution to the wind and follow what his heart told him. He owed it to her to try it at least once.

James looked slowly back up to Melissa. He stared at her for several moments as he thought what to say. Melissa shook her head. "Please James, if there is something troubling you, I should like to help…" Her plea was cut short as James held up a hand and allowed his smile to return.

"Katherine once told me that affairs of the heart require a little trust," he began quietly. "I know I have been rather difficult to become acquainted with. I am quite sure Katherine attempted to explain me to you on more than one occasion, but I realize it might have been frustrating for you. I apologize. I have never been true to my affections because they have always gotten me into trouble, but perhaps that is because I never trusted them. I have always thought highly of you, Miss Reynolds, but I can now honestly say that I have great feelings for you, Melissa. I like to believe that you think quite highly of the Commodore, but I should like to help you become more acquainted with James."

Melissa smiled, but looked at him suspiciously. His words were like poetry to her, but without the verse. It seemed like it could come out of Shakespeare – their favorite point of discussion. "You hint, but do not say, James Norrington. You are terribly like your sister in that respect," she teased. He nearly chuckled at her remark. James felt his heart beating faster once more as he looked softly into her eyes and mustered the courage to do one of the boldest things he had ever done.

"I love you."

A bright, hopeful smile commandeered Melissa's expression. She felt her heart skip in her bosom at the sound of those three, simple words. Her feelings for this man who had tasted love and loss and managed to climb out from the ruin to love again flew to new heights. She found herself wrapping her arms around James's neck and resting her head on his shoulder.

"How was that for a broadside?" he asked playfully. Melissa only looked up into his eyes and laughed.