Disclaimer: Plot's mine. Mari's mine. I am stiffly enduring non-ownership of all else.

A/N: I've decided to do these in a series of one-shots. The next one will prolly be a Christmas special, so I'll see ya'll then!! Not much time to write these days; I'm at COLLEGE.

What was he doing here?

Mari stared at the man in front of her, her pistol barrel pressed firmly against his temple. He stared back, equally perplexed as he leveled his sword at her gullet.

"James," she hissed. "What the h-"

Suddenly she was spun away from him by strong arms, then grasped to his chest.

"Be quiet and look hostagely," Norrington hissed back. Mari did as she was told, a rare thing, indeed. Not even Jack could elicit that sort of obedience from his daughter.

James tugged her to a dinghy and stuffed her under the canvas.

"Go back to your ship," he whispered. "Poseidon no doubt misses his lover."

Before Mari could reply, James stepped back and cut the tethers, sending the boat splashing rather dangerously into the ocean. Without hesitation (but not without regret), Mari Cutlass rowed back to her crimson-sailed beauty. A tightness in her chest and a lump in her throat bespoke of the sorrow that filled her. However, she let not a tear fall until she was back aboard her ship, her crew safe, and the Crimson Cutlass en route to Germany.

("They'll never look for us in Germany," she reasoned. "Their fear of the Norse far outweighs their desire to capture us.")

When all was cared for that a captain need care for, Mari quietly exited to her cabin, curled on her bed, and sobbed.

Mari didn't often let herself cry, and never did it without good reason. She hadn't seen James in over six months, since she'd let him off at Port Royal. To meet him now, under those circumstances, having almost killed him...with nary even a kiss...and seeing in full, painful relief, the social difference between them, only intensified the knowledge that they would never be together. She curled into herself more tightly, biting the edge of her blanket to prevent her sobs being heard.

A soft knock sounded on her door.

"Permission to come aboard, my lass?"

Curse it all. Mari had forgotten Jack was sailing with them.

When she remained silent, Jack entered anyway. She refused to look at him as he approached her, didn't acknowledge it when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Look at me," he said softly. Mari squeezed her eyes shut. Once, Jack would never have bothered to find what was wrong with her; once she would have given anything for this. She supposed she should be grateful.

Should being the operative word.

At the moment, she only wanted to be alone. Always alone. I can never have him, so I'll always be alone.

Mari rolled over on her back to look Jack in the face. His eyes widened slightly; and well they should. Mari knew what he saw; her kohl smudged and running, her nose red and running as well. Her eyes bloodshot, her face flushed, and a twisted look of pain marking her features.

"God save us; he was on the ship?"

Mari nodded; they both knew who he meant. Newfound trust had led them to confide everything in one another.

In a moment, she was in his arms, resting in his lap as if she were a little girl. She wept into Jack's greatcoat, suddenly immensely grateful for him. His deep, sea-roughened voice spoke soothing words as he rubbed her back. He rocked her gently until she spent herself on tears. The two of them were silent then, for a time.

"Papa?" Mari rasped after some moments. Jack's throat constricted. She rarely called him that, even now that they were actually acting like family. He held her a little closer.

"Yes, my lass?"

"Does love always hurt this much?" Mari looked into his face; Jack brushed strands of auburn hair from her eyes. Her mother's hair.

"Only when it isn't treated right. Love is like a ship; it must be steered correctly or it will take you to the depths with it."

"I want to go to him."

I want to go to her. Jack had spoken those words more than twenty years ago, to Bootstrap about Mari's mother. He had done it eventually, but not until it was too late.

"I know, my lass," he whispered, saying the only thing he could think of.

"I know."

Commodore James Norrington walked the decks of the Silent Lady with a distinctly pained expression on his face. He had been wishing to see Mari for months, and when his wish came true, he had lost her again.

God, why must things be this way? Why can't we simply live happily, without this stomach-twisting anguish? Sweet heavens, is this what Will felt for all those years?

Suddenly, James hated himself for ever having tried to marry Elizabeth.

And, his respect for Will grew tenfold.

We live in two different worlds, he thought dismally. Worse, our worlds are at war with one another. How can we possibly be together when the veritable Heavens are threatening to tear us apart? God knows I love her. She'd be up for the hangman's noose, and I for a promotion, else.

The truth was, ever since the incident with the Sirens, Norrington had lost his zeal for hunting pirates. At least, two pirates in particular. Near-misses, fool's mistakes, and misread messages were all synonymous with the Black Pearl and Crimson Cutlass these days. Other buccaneers he sought with all his fury.

Only those two eluded him.

The Governor aided his cause, not quite able to condemn a man who saved his daughter's life, on numerous accounts. Swann never inquired as to Norrington's reasons for never quite attaining either ship, and Norrington never offered. They had an understanding; that was all that mattered.

No, it isn't. So many other things matter, such as my standing in the Navy. Mari's welfare; both physical and emotional. That means Jack's welfare matters as well, no matter how irritating I find the man.

James sighed deeply. He needed Mari in his arms, to hold, to kiss softly, even though he knew he'd have to let her go again. He only hoped Will and Elizabeth would have the sense to send him word should they receive a visit from "Lord John Gull and Miss Margaret Gull," should they come calling.

Muttering to himself (a thing someone so self-possessed never did) James Norrington forced himself back to his cabin, and to bed.