Title: Dolphins

Author: Berne

Rating: PG

Characters: James/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN: Love to Ociwen for the beta. Written for Sinsiter Beauty's request.

Dolphins

When Elizabeth floated on her front, her hair tangled around her like seaweed. She could see glittering minnows and rippling angel fish and, when she closed her eyes, she could see arcing silver, and they, if she concentrated hard enough, could be dolphins, if she could just remember--

The yank upwards startled her into a yelp that swiftly turned into a choke as she swallowed a mouthful of seawater. The pressure on her arms didn't let off, either, and before she could gasp out something most unladylike, she was on the beach, retching and rubbing saltwater out of her eyes.

"Miss Swann? Miss Swann, are you all right?"

Elizabeth shot a glare in the direction of the voice and attempted to scrape away the sand that crusted the back of her neck. It was a futile effort, and when she properly noticed the man kneeling beside her (dark hair, damp shirt, dappled boots), she only just held in a snarl.

"Elizabeth, are you quite--"

"Stop!"

James Norrington stood up in alarm as Elizabeth shot to her feet, only just reaching out a hand in time to catch her shoulder before she toppled backwards. He blinked at her furious face. "I -- you were face-down in the water. I thought you had drowned!"

"I was swimming, James!"

His eyes briefly skimmed over her sodden shift before snapping back to her face. "Swimming?"

"Yes, swimming! My dress…" She stomped up the beach and snatched up her bundled dress from behind a rock. "My dress is here!"

Elizabeth was shouting, and she knew that if her father heard he would be horrified, but it felt good to yell herself hoarse, because that had been the best swim she had had in God only knew how long and she wouldn't get a chance to escape the house anytime soon and… And she would be damned if she got tearful in front of James Norrington!

For a moment James was silent; Elizabeth managed to swallow past the lump in her throat. But then his eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. "I thought you were dead, Miss Swann."

She sniffed, blinked hard. "I can swim well enough, you know that."

When he spoke again his voice was as near to a hiss as Elizabeth had ever heard it. "I thought that when I pulled you out I would find your throat slit by pirates, jewellery gone! I thought that you had knocked your head on a rock! I thought that a shark had bitten you because, yes, Lord knows you can swim well enough!"

Elizabeth bit her lip to stop it trembling. She wouldn't cry; she refused to cry. So, instead, she spun away from him and ran.

Elizabeth was concentrating on breathing and breathing and cursing that infernal James Norrington.

When that infernal James Norrington sat down heavily next to her, she let out an undignified squeak and pushed her face into the heavy velvet of her dress.

"I thought you might be cold."

Elizabeth chanced a glance sideways, saw James' proffered jacket, his almost-smile, and promptly burst into tears. The jacket was hastily balanced on her heaving shoulders and awkwardly tugged around until she could feel the scratch of material against her cheek. She didn't want to apologise -- she was too proud for that -- but she needed to explain.

"I wanted to see the dolphins."

The dress was pried from Elizabeth's grip and she let it go, scrubbing fiercely at her eyes. She fixed her gaze on the hem of her saturated shift and added, rather thickly, "I've never seen them before, apart from in my old picture books, and I thought, if I stayed still enough…"

James was silent as she trailed off, and when she finally plucked up the courage to look at him she saw that he had a small smile on his face.

"I know just the place, Miss Swann," James said, and held out an arm. Elizabeth looped her own arm around it, sniffling slightly, and he tugged her onto her feet. He walked her through the docks as though she were royalty and not merely that troublesome Miss Swann, only stopping to tell a guard to inform her father that they would be back before sunset.

Elizabeth pestered him all the way with her 'where's and her 'how far's and 'how long's, and even though he certainly could have arrived there (through forest and dunes and rock pools) in half the time by himself, he slowed his steps just enough for her to keep up.

And then they arrived and all she could do was squeal and clap and marvel at the fish that danced on the waves. But when she sighed over that afternoon every day for a week afterwards, it was never so much the silvery slip-shine of dolphins that she remembered, as the weight of James' jacket on her shoulders and the warmth of her hand in his.