A/N: I'M SO SORRY for not updating sooner! I've been busy getting ready for my first year of college. I'm leaving on September 7th! AGH! I'm so scared! Anywho... here's the new chapter.

A Little Reunion Over Breakfast

Jo tiptoed down the stairs. On her way down she passed a maid going up. "If you be wantin' to find the Commodore, he is in the breakfast room. 'Tis that door to the right of the staircase."

"Thank you," Jo responded and gave her best curtsey (she had been practicing in her room). The maid looked at her with an amused countenance, then continued up the stairs with suppressed laughter on her lips.

"I did not think my curtsey was that bad . . ." With a frown Jo continued to the bottom of the stairs. Once she reached it, she turned right and walked into the breakfast room. She beheld the Commodore sitting at a large pie-crust table. He was eating fried ham slices in a coffee gravy. The table was laden with other simple delicacies that Josephine had not tasted since she was five years old. There were journey cakes with apple butter, breakfast puffs, and dressed eggs. The sigh that escaped from Jo's lips was what alerted Norrington of her presence. He looked up with a start.

"Miss Hall! I did not notice that you had entered the room, forgive me."

Jo blushed and murmured that it was quite all right. When she looked back up at the Commodore she saw that he was now staring at her with his mouth open slightly. Jo blushed more scarlet, she did not know how much more of this new attention she could take. In the past she had always worn loose fitting clothing and her face was always dirty, but she had gotten lustful looks from the dark shadows in tavern corners. If the look Norrington was giving her were lustful she would have been able to deal with it without batting an eye. But his expression was not lust, but something far beyond it.

Norrington noticed her further embarrassment and shook from his head his admiration of her beauty, which was now radiant through the gown, and rose from his chair. He slowly walked until he stood before her and, gently taking her hand, he escorted her to the chair beside his. He scooted her in, in her chair, before he sat down again in his own. A maid came up and piled food onto Josephine's plate before she could protest that she would do it herself.

Once everything was situated he ordered all the servants to leave the room, with the exception of his butler. Josephine had not noticed the butler's presence until he came and sat down beside her and began to put food on a plate for himself. She glanced at him and was about to put another forkful of egg in her mouth when she gave a start and dropped her fork. The sound of it clattering on the plate reached the servants outside and one of them came in to retrieve it. The butler stood up from his chair as quickly as possible. The maid replaced the fork with a new one then disappeared from the room as quickly as he had come.

Josephine whirled around to face the butler. "Jack? . . . Jack . . . Jack!" She threw herself into her brother's arms. Jack's arms went around her in a tight embrace. Then suddenly Jo pulled out of his arms, then reached out and slapped him across the face.

"Why didn't you write to me? And don't say you don't know how, because I know you do, Joseph Samuel Hall!"

"I'm sorry, Joan," Jack said, rubbing his face and wincing at the sound of his full name. "I haven't had the time---"

"--- And what happened to your face? I haven't seen you like that since you were twenty, and what are you wearing?"

"All in good time, my dear, I'll explain it all in good time."

"Sit down, Mr. Sparrow, you may tell her now."

"The whole story?"

"Whatever pleases you . . ." Norrington replied absently, his attention taken by the way the morning light, streaming in from the windows, highlighted Jo's raven locks.

So Jack sat down and the account of all his travels poured out of his mouth. Jo listened with great interest and surprise was a constant reoccurring expression on her part. Jo was so engrossed with the story, that she did not notice the Commodore rise from the table and leave the room.

James went upstairs and went into his room and onto his balcony (this was where he did his best thinking). But today, all he did was wipe his hand across his face and murmur, "Here's a pretty kettle of fish . . ."

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