Disclaimer: Alas, I still don't have any rights to any of the POTC characters. However, if Norrington happens to call, do tell him that I will be happy to marry him…

Chapter 8: Confessions of a Delirious Mind

"Yes, your majesty, I do believe you resemble an elephant. A little exercise would benefit your purple horse wonderfully." Pru rambled.

James woke with a start. It had been hours since comfort necessitated he remove his jacket. It made it quite easier to care for the woman in his bed. His bed. Stop, James ordered his mind, I have more important things to do.

He had stayed awake for hours, reapplying wet cloths, softly murmuring in her frantic moments, and indulging in hours of staring at her with infinite concern. Pru began to stir again. He bent close to her and murmured comforting nonsense as if he were speaking to a small child. Pru quieted and relaxed against the pillow. James sat back, content to watch her and pray the fever went down.

"I don't wanna marry him. E's a moron."

James smiled. No, an idiot would not do well with you at all.

"I go on Pearl ship. Sparrow is a nice bird."

He paused. Pearl? Sparrow?

" Norrie, where are you?"

Norrie, James thought, could she mean me?

"I'm here.," James said softly.

"I feel safe then. Oh, you much handsome man. Look good in uniform."

James grinned. I'm beginning to like this.

"You infuriating. Too smug. Ooh, a puppy."

His amusement turned to annoyance. Great, a puppy seems to be more interesting than even my faults.

"Who are you," James asked.

"Not gonna tell. So there.," Pru stuck a lip out in a childish pout.

A few minutes later, she began to frantically move in the bed.

"NO! NO! NO! I WILL NOT…HELP! HELP!"

Pru began thrashing around on the bed. Worried that she might hurt herself, James immediately moved to restrain her. He wiped her face with a cool cloth as he spoke.

"Shhh. You're safe. No one will hurt you, I promise you that. James is here. Lie back down, that's it…Go o-"

It was at that moment that James sensed someone had entered the room. Still half on the bed himself, He glanced up at his lieutenant who had both eyebrows raised to his wigline.

"What is it? I'm a bit busy here…," Norrington began.

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of.," Gillette commented.

Pru giggled. "Norrie, you a naughty boy. Take your wig off."

Norrington gave Gillette a glare that would have killed lesser men. "Tell me what you need or leave.," Norrington icily ordered.

"I wanted ask if you'd like a rest from this. You could get any business you need done, get away from the sick roo-"

"NO! I mean, no. I don't believe it would be good for the girl if she had a different person to nurse her. She needs routine and-"

"Enough said, sir. Good night."

"Yes, goodnight Gillette."

"G' Nigh, come to bed Norrie."

James groaned. Of all the embarrassing things that could happen, his lieutenant had to find him crouched over the girl in what surely appeared to be a compromising position. God knows what stories Gillette is concocting in his head now. No need to worry about that now though; I've more important things to do. James resumed his place by the bed watching and waiting.

The hours went by slowly. James truly could not say exactly what time it was. He knew it had been hours since he'd stopped analyzing why he didn't want to leave her bedside. He had finally decided that it was his duty as commodore to monitor and question the stowaway on his ship. His mind prodded that this conclusion wasn't the truth. James told his mind to go to perdition.

Periodically, he'd send for reports, his ship's log, or Gillette. The surgeon came in every few hours to monitor the patient. James frequently wiped her face and arms with a cool cloth. Eventually, she became quiet, her deliriums fading. Around dawn the fever finally broke.

Pru didn't want to wake up. She felt like she'd been put in a barrel and shaken about for days. Try as she might, consciousness pulled her away from the painless lull of sleep. She moaned as she stretched to loosen her muscles.

"Drink this.," a familiar voice ordered.

Her eyes cracked open. Bloody Hell, Of course it would have to be him. Pru put her mouth on the cup. Cool water flowed into her mouth and soothed the hot dryness of her throat.

Norrington placed the cup beside the bed. He studied her as he chose his words carefully.

A few minutes later, he greeted her, "I'm glad you're awake. Are you feeling well?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Pru said as she motioned for the water.

"Good, I'm happy you've managed to overcome the fever, but don't you think I should hear the truth now, miss-?"

Pru gasped. She quickly felt that the wrapping she'd used to bind her chest was gone.

Norrington's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "Yes, it was quite a shock to me too."

Pru's mouth opened as her cheeks bloomed a brilliant red. "You didn't?"

Norrington frowned at her.

"NO. WHY does everyone assume I'd do that?…as if I were…enough, the surgeon discovered your true self. Now, who are you? I want the truth this time.," he defensively asked, hoping to change the subject.

Pru gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Do you mean you don't believe my name is Will Swann? Oh, really, don't give me that glare. My name is Pru Abigail Martin."

"What is it short for?"

"What is what short for?"

"You know what I mean. What is Pru short for?"

Pru wrinkled her nose. "Prudence. I detest the name. Please call me Pru. Or Abigail. Or Abby. Just don't call me Prudence."

Amusement danced in Norrington's eyes as he mused, "Prudence: attentiveness to possible hazard, caution or circumspection as to danger or risk. Perhaps you should be called that more often. The definition might rub off on you."

"My father called me Prudence. I don't think it worked, did you?"

That recalled Norrington back to his commodore duties. His face and manner turned serious and remote. This irritated Pru to no end.

"Tell me all the details of how you got on my ship and why. I'd like the truth this time."

Pru took a final sip of the water as she glanced about the room. It was a small cabin with little to no indication of the occupant's personality sans a few books, well worn from multiple readings. Anything else was hidden, behind the shield of drawers as if the owner kept himself shielded. Finally, composing her thoughts, Pru began her story.

"I don't think you would accept any less than the truth now and I have no reason to hide it. I lived in a rather large home in Marblehead, Massachusetts with my father. My mother had died several years prior and I essentially ran the house while my father ran a successful shipping company. My father never abused me, but he and I never really felt like a family. I don't want you to think that I'm a spoiled girl who was treated badly her whole life. I was actually treated fairly well.

He was gone quite a bit in connection with his business. I was not monitored in the way a normal girl would have been. I became rather independent and used to being the essential head of the household.

When I came to be of age for marriage, I experienced a rather limited amount of suitors, mostly consisting of boring unintelligent cads or perhaps, it was becauseI was merely resistant to marriage. The ones that were interested were purely interested in my dowry. Eventually, through my strong efforts of persuasion, even they felt it wasn't worth the effort to court me. I began to believe that I would spend my life as I'd always had: taking care of my father and following my own private pursuits.

However, a short while ago, my father learned of the engagement of my cousin. She had apparently denied engagement to a prominent man in society to wed a common laborer. He apparently decided that I would not be allowed the opportunity of causing scandal to his family and decided to select John Sills as my husband.

I couldn't stand John Sills. He was dull, stupid, and repulsive. I protested the marriage. My father locked me in my room. I felt that I had to get away if I were to avoid becoming Mrs. John Sills as my father could not be swayed. I formed a plan to join my cousin and uncle who lived in Port Royal."

Norrington tensed. "What is your cousin's and uncle's name?"

"Elizabeth Swann. My uncle is Weatherby Swann. Do you know them?"

"Yes. Continue."

Apparently, Norrington would be especially closemouthed today.

"I rode to Rhode Island on my horse where I secured passage on a ship-"

"Would that ship be the Black Pearl," interrupted Norrington

"How…How did you know that?"

Norrington's eyes glinted with amusement again. "You might have mentioned something when you were delirious."

"I didn't…say anything else, did I?"

"Well, I do believe you called me a naughty boy and ordered me to take my wig off."

"What?"

"It really is of no consequence. You were sick. Neither I nor Gillette will speak of it again."

"Gillette?"

"You have nothing to fear about that information spreading beyond us. Continue."

"Could you say please once in awhile? Well, the Black Pearl took me to Georgia where we found that your ship was being repaired. The captain knew you would be going back to Port Royal, so he helped me sneak aboard."

"Did he express any worry about what I'd do to you," he asked.

"No, actually he was quite amused that it was your ship. I asked the same question. I believe he said that it was his way of rooting for you. Does that have any meaning?"

Norrington's mouth quirked. "A bit."

AN: Thanks for all the reviews. I've edited the best I can, but for some reason the finished product has some words pushed together when I add it to the story. Sorry if it happens again.