A/N: This chapter is for Elske because she said she wanted to see another and because her Norrington stories inspired me to start my own. This is decidedly slashier than the first chapter.

A/N II : This also doesn't have anything to do with my other fic "In Dreams", but the beginning seems familiar.

Lord Cutler Beckett frowned at the figure next to him in the bed. James was tossing and turning, face contorted in a scowl. He supposed the man must be having a nightmare, but was at an absolute loss as to help. James didn't strike him as the type who would take laudanum, which was what took care of Beckett's own night terrors. Well at least James wasn't attempting to scratch his eyes out yet, a lovely little trait of his own. Still, men like James should most definitely not be whimpering into their pillows. It was time to do something. Beckett reached over and shook James' shoulder.

He was reminded immediately of the naval alertness that never leaves a man as he felt the long fingers wrap around his neck. Blue eyes widened in shock and horror at what he was doing, and thoughtfully removed his hands before they crushed Beckett's windpipe.

"Damn."

The curse was unnatural in that cultured voice. Beckett shook his head at the vulgarity.

"It's nothing James."

"Don't ever do that again. Shout or something if you need to wake me up."

Beckett felt hope rising in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation. James spoke as though there was a chance at another night such as this.

"Sorry. You were having a bit of a rough dream."

Norrington shook his head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"It happens with regularity when you have seen so many of your friends-"

The former Commodore broke off, eyes trained on the sheets. Beckett moved closer to James, racking his brain to provide some kind of comfort.

"Surely you would have known better than to make friends with your men, you must have known there was such a risk."

"If you ever had the chance to meet Theodore Groves, you wouldn't have been able to help becoming his friend. And then there was Gillette…"

Beckett nodded, remembering the sarcastic redheaded midshipman, the one that followed James closer than a shadow at their first meeting.

"What happened to him? How did he-"

Norrington's face shot up and Beckett was relieved to see that, at last, there was some passion in his eyes.

"Don't. Ask."

"Ah."

"Same night that Groves died. Fitting that they should at last be together."

"And here I was sure that he was an old flame of yours."

"I wouldn't have put him in that sort of danger."

Beckett felt his insides turn to lead.

"You put yourself in that sort of danger."

James shrugged. The smaller man felt his temper begin to rise.

"You put me in that sort of danger."

Norrington reached over and pushed away a curl that had flopped over Beckett's forehead before moving his hand lower to caress his cheek.

"I'm sure that you can take care of yourself."

" I can. I can take care of you as well, if you let me."

The words came out laced with arrogance. Norrington let the tone slide.

"I know. I don't need to be taken care of."

They were back to the same empty voice that had echoed around Beckett's office earlier that day. But he was not going to let it slide as easily as James.

"Norrington, for God's sake! Just hours ago, you were found drifting on the ocean because you stole a beating heart from some quasi-alive pirate! I needed to give you a royal pardon that was meant for Jack Sparrow of all people, we had mind blowing sex afterwards and you just had a nightmare about some friend's demise! React man!"

Beckett grabbed Norrington's shoulders, hoping that the chocking wasn't a reflex whilst he was awake as well. He shook the other man, feeling how thin his arms had gotten.

"Show me that you are still alive and that I didn't waste parchment and ink, rescuing a dead man from the gallows."

The force of Beckett's outburst shocked both of them. Norrington gently removed the hands from his shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to Beckett's mouth.

"I'm still alive."

He pressed one of those soft hands to his chest, just over his own heart. Beckett dropped his voice to a whisper.

"Barely there. But there none the less."

Norrington sighed gently.

"I don't know how to hold on anymore. Maybe you could show me."

Beckett laughed at the irony of it all.

"I'm the last person who would ever encourage someone to prolong their miserable life."

"Maybe it isn't looking so miserable anymore." There was a question in that voice and a blossom of hope was slowly closing over the pain in those eyes.

Beckett pulled James close, praying to whatever was listening that he didn't ruin this, what ever this was going to be.