Plot: Norrington is not happy with the turn of events. Set just after CotBP, before DMC. You know, in that 1-2 year gap when Norrington was pursuing the Black Pearl.

AN: My triumphant return (not really). This is something that bit me in the arse and wouldn't let go, so I was forced to forego some sleep just to crack out most of it. El Rey del Mar, as far as I know, is a made up place, just so you know. My word of the day is 'choleric', if you notice…

Disclaimer: All characters and places (except for the ones spewed out by my hyperactive imagination) are the sole property of Mickey Mouse and his Disney cohorts. I'm just an enthusiast who likes to play; what else can I say?

Dear Commodore
Chapter One

He never found himself to be of a choleric disposition. In fact, he always thought of himself as a level-headed, rational human being. But the truth of the matter was that no matter how placid he saw himself as, when it came to pirates he was anything but. Especially when it came to a certain elusive, seemingly perpetually inebriated pirate, one that happened to be the notorious captain of an even more notorious vessel.

Captain Jack Sparrow.

How he loathed that man.

He'd been chasing him for a good solid four months, after having given him exactly twenty-four hours from that moment to get away from Port Royal as fast as possible. It had been noon when the bumbling pirate made his clumsy escape from the vantage point, and no sooner had the clock struck twelve o'clock the next day than James Norrington was out on the Dauntless, yelling at every crewman who wasn't doing his job to ensure that they left on time.

There was just something about Jack Sparrow that never settled right with James Norrington.

He'd almost become one-sided in his chase. Instead of vowing to rid all piracy from the world, or at least English-operated waters, he somehow got it into his head that ridding the world of Captain Jack Sparrow was all he needed to to do make the world right again.

So one could imagine the potentially volatile situation an inexperienced crewman could be in if he knocked on the door to the Commodore's cabin after the latter has just discovered that Jack Sparrow eluded him once again, only very narrowly.

It was that kind of news that sent Norrington into a fury that was often depressingly self-deprecating at times.

But what made bad news even worse was the occasional time when Jack Sparrow was well-aware of the fact that Norrington was only a day or two behind, and so, presuming that the most frequented tavern in town would be the first on the Commodore's checklist of 'places to look for that dastard first', he left him a letter with the barkeep. The instructions were always the same: "If an odd fellow comes in here wearing a white wig and officer garb, asking for Jack Sparrow, give him this letter."

Sometimes he varied the instructions, but the general idea was the same. Norrington would never forget that one time Jack left him a letter, and left the barkeep "varied" instructions.

"So yer lookin' for Jack Sparrow? Right," the barkeep had said, producing from his grimy apron pocket a letter that was even grimier. "Fellow told me t'give you this if y'asked for Sparrow. He also said to thank you."

"For what?" Norrington had asked, although looking back on it now he wished he hadn't.

Without even batting an eyelash, the barkeep had responded, "For givin' him the best sex of his life."

Norrington was fairly certain he was red for the rest of the day.

So when he approached the barkeep this time, in a small town reminiscent of Port Royal (making him incredibly homesick at the sight), he knew to expect some boorish comment. But there was none, not this time.

"Oh, right, you're the man the Captain said would be asking about him. He said sorry he didn't have time to sit down and have a chat over tea," the barkeep mumbled absently as he fished around in a drawer behind the counter. After inspecting a few suspicious-looking letters, he finally picked out one that was on rather fancy parchment and sealed with black wax. No identifying seal, as usual. The black wax was also common for Jack to seal his letters with; no doubt that when dried, it reminded him of his precious ship. But the parchment was expensive; an oddity for Jack. Norrington had an inkling that the pirate probably stole the paper from some shop at his last stop – or maybe, if he was bold, this one.

He wasted no time in breaking the seal and unfolding the paper. He recognized the erratic penmanship right away.

December 4

It's good to know you're still on the pursuit, dear Commodore. I honestly thought that after months of failing to catch me, you'd have given up by now. What's it been? A month or something?

Four, the Commodore corrected bitterly.

Just so you know, I plan on sailing around the Spanish Main for a little while to see if maybe your elephant of a ship can actually catch up to mine, and then I'll head to the port of El Rey del Mar. But I hear rumours that perhaps your Dauntless isn't as slow as I originally heard from a pair of your men. This was a while back, mind. Or perhaps it is the snail of the Caribbean – it's just your rapidly deflating ego that lends wind to your sails.

If you're lucky, perhaps we will meet in Tortuga for Christmas. If you can manage it, I'll even buy you a drink. My way of saying thanks, mate, for a wonderful adventure and all that, as well as Merry Christmas. But enough of that for now, do you feel like picking up the chase again?

Captain Jack Sparrow

Norrington made a vague guttural noise as he crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his waistcoat pocket. It was unfortunate that he was unable to leave a very colourful response of his own to Sparrow's, as much as he wished it. And even if he did leave one, there was a chance the infamous pirate wouldn't get back to this same port for months, and if and when he did, he probably wouldn't ask the barkeep if a certain naval officer happened to have left him a message. Such a thing would probably send out the wrong message to anyone who cared to pay attention.

And Jack Sparrow certainly couldn't have his fellow pirates under the assumption that he was in cohorts with a British Commodore.

Norrington stormed out of the bar, followed by Murtogg. The latter gave him a look as if awaiting orders, and at the same time it seemed slightly fearful.

"Murtogg, have everybody back on the Dauntless, now. We set sail for El Rey del Mar right away," Norrington stated. He awaited a reply of 'yes, sir', but when no such thing came, he turned to look at the portly soldier. "Do I make myself clear?" he added through clenched teeth.

Murtogg seemed to jump at the harshness of his commanding officer's voice. "Well, yes, sir, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"We're not to rest for a little bit?"

Norrington could feel himself reaching the boiling point. "Rest for a little bit?" he growled. "No, you are not going to rest for a little bit! Nobody, not even myself, is going to rest for any amount of time, not until Jack Sparrow is hanged! Now, ready the Dauntless. We're going to El Rey del Mar."

Murtogg gave him a rather shaky salute and ran off to fetch the crew.

Norrington sighed and decided he would also make his way back to the Dauntless, but at his own pace. Jack's letters always got him riled up, and he always found that the best course of action to disperse this rage was to take a walk or begin pacing in his cabin. And since his cabin was on the Dauntless, he'd walk there. Hopefully he wouldn't be so infuriated by the time he reached it.

Hope you liked it. WIP! Reviews do a body good. Also, this may or may not be an eventual Sparrington fic. We'll have to see where it takes me.