Summary: To the song by Nick Lachey. James Norrington is a broken man having lost everything and everyone that had meaning to him. Now, as he faces his final moments, he looks back at some of his most haunting and painful memories. JNOC.First POTC fic.Please R&R!
A/N: This is what happens when I listen to a song too many times, lol. I just thought it'd be a great song for Norrington since after seeing DMC with his new and improved but slightly depressed character he is a broken man. So, I'll shut up right about now and let the reading begin!
Disclaimer: Don't own the song or the movie or the characters...well one of them I do own.
What's Left of Me
Watch my life,
Pass me by,
In the rear view mirror
Pictures frozen in time
Are becoming clearer
I don't wanna waste another day
Stuck in the shadow of my mistakes
Some people say that when Death comes knocking at your door it's completely unexpected. You don't hear its footsteps crunching on the dirt outside. You don't hear its breath as it slowly brings up a hand to make that formidable clunking noise on the door. It just comes without any warning. And that's it.
That is what some people say. But for me, that isn't true.
For the past few days I have heard Death's footsteps outside the door, slow and menacing. I have heard its breath whispering just beyond the dark abyss of a room I had barricaded myself in. I have heard its echoing knocks, each one growing stronger than the last. Death was giving me a warning. I had known that already for I was scheduled to hang by the neck until dead in the fort of Port Royal the afternoon of June 14, 1745.
And there I am now, still and silent as a crowd gathered to watch today's hanging. I bow my head and stare at nothing in particular. Soft gossip reaches my ears from the people of Port Royal.
"That is the Commodore, is it not?"
"Oh yes, that's him. He's been branded as a pirate from what I heard."
"A pirate! That can't be! The man despises them."
"Well, he surely can't despise them anymore seeing that he went gallivanting with their filthy lot."
I did nothing to protect myself against these insults for I no longer cared about my pride and honor, something I had lost long ago. No, those didn't matter to me anymore. I am a broken man, having lost everything and everyone that had meaning in my life. I am not afraid to die because of this. I no longer have a reason to live. They see it in the defeated way I stand. No longer do I hold my head high and speak with a little hint of arrogance. I stand with my shoulders hunched forward now, weary and tired, and my voice full of resignation. I have handed myself over to the gallows and I didn't give a slightest damn.
Just then, someone spat at my feet. I raise my lifeless eyes only a fraction of an inch. One of the men in front was looking at me, sneering.
"Serves you right, Commodore." he leered in a rough voice. "I'm sure you'll have a nice spot in hell with those other vermin, you bloody traitor."
Some joined him in the taunting while others just shook their heads in disdain. But I didn't care. Let them insult me, I thought. In a few minutes I won't have to hear them anymore. I cock my head slightly to look for the judge who would read my charges only to find no one next to me but the executioner. Where the bloody hell was the man? Couldn't they just go ahead and put me out of my pathetic life? After all the pain I've endured can't they show one little act of mercy?
As I stood there with the thick rope already around my neck, I thought back to how everything went wrong.
Elizabeth. That was where it began. When she had rejected me for that blacksmith Turner, I was devastated. Although I did not show it, every second I spent thinking of her tore me apart and every moment I saw her with the man she loved seared through me like a hot knife. I had loved her so, ever since she was just a girl of 8 on board that ship on the passage from London to Port Royal which was to be both her new home and mine. All those years I had kept her in a special place in my heart and yet I was nothing more than a friend to her. I had always known there was something between her and young Turner but, blinded by my own feelings, I looked past it, deciding that it was little more than a childhood fancy. But I was wrong and I paid for it with a piece of my heart.
Then it was that blasted Jack Sparrow who caused me much humiliation not once but twice. I had him. I had him and yet he managed to slip away from me like the slithering eel that he is. Having Sparrow escape me the second time, I felt my passion for pirate hunting grow even stronger. I was determined to see that thieving pirate captain swing in the gallows and was prepared to go to extreme lengths to make it happen.
And that was when I made the biggest mistake in my life: riding through that hurricane. Looking back at it now, I see my stupidity, my ignorance, my complete disregard to anyone's needs but my own. I was so focused on Sparrow that, to me, the dangers of a hurricane were nothing. But I soon realized that it wasn't nothing. I paid with my men, my ship, my pride and honor as Commodore James Norrington, scourge of piracy in the Caribbean. In an instant, I was reduced to nothing, years of hard work and dedication simply lost and drowned at sea. As I brooded over my mistake, I realized that if it hadn't been for my hell-bent desire to undo at least one of the wrongs in my life, I wouldn't be here, standing on the hangman's platform awaiting my departure from earth. No, I would have gone home, defeated once again by the infamous Jack Sparrow but with the knowledge that I went after him with all the best judgment the commodore that I am is supposed to have. But that wasn't enough for me and I curse myself for my desperate need to capture the man who could almost take all the blame for sending me on my path to damnation.
A broken man with nothing left for me in the world, I had headed to Tortuga, determined to shrink away from proper society who would no doubt put me down for my poorly made choice. I went to Tortuga and became the very man I had made it my life goal to destroy. A drunk, a scallywag, a ruffian, an outcast. I no longer cared what anyone thought of me and, to an extent, I enjoyed it. There were no rules I had to abide, no standard that had been set and for once in my life, I tasted true freedom. Then, just when I thought I had seen the last of Jack Sparrow, he showed up offering a spot in his crew to any able-bodied man. I joined, knowing that I was already too far into what I had gotten myself in to back out. And I became a pirate under the command of the very man I had destroyed my career over just to pursue.
But then an opportunity presented itself. I learned that a man named Lord Cutler Beckett back in Port Royal was making it his business to find the treasure that Sparrow was going after. So I waited and waited until the moment was just right and when it was, I stole that heart, fooling both Sparrow and Davy Jones's crew. I took it back to Port Royal, to this Cutler Beckett, hoping that my deed and the letters of marque would install me as a privateer in the East India Trading Company and return some of my honor. But I got neither of that. All I got were irons clapped on my wrists, the brand of a pirate, and a death sentence in a fortnight.
I did nothing to protect myself in my trial, if it could be called a trial since it was more of a sentencing for me. I just sat there in the courthouse, staring blankly at the floor while I was condemned for piracy. Governor Swann had tried to lower the sentence to prison but Beckett and the judge would hear none of it. It turns out that the governor had paid Beckett a considerable amount of money to ensure that his daughter was pardoned for her charges. Therefore the letters of marque would go directly to Elizabeth if and when she returned. So as far as the judge was concerned without the pardon, I was just as much as a pirate as the most notorious, murdering buccaneers of the seas were. In a sense, they were right and I knew it which was partly why I didn't defend myself even if the penalty for my actions was death.
I was jerked out of my thoughts just then by the loud rapping of the snares as their drummers filled the air with the steady drum roll announcing an execution. Abruptly, it stopped and the judge who had suddenly appeared next to me stretched out a scroll and began to read. Cause I want you,
And I feel you,
Crawling underneath my skin
Like a hunger,
Like a burning,
To find a place I've never been
Now I'm broken,
And I'm faded,
I'm half the man I thought I would be:
But you can have what's left of me
"James Matthew Norrington, be it known that you have been charged and convicted for your willful commissions against the crown." The judge's voice echoed across the now silent fort where even the faintest gossip had stopped.
Determinedly, I block out the judge and all sound around me, wanting to spend my last few minutes alive remembering nothing of what was being charged against me. I retreated back into my mind, into my thoughts where I did not find the peace I was looking for, only the shattered remnants of the honorable man that I had been not very long ago.
I take a deep breath, savoring the salty smell of the ocean air, the air that I had breathed all throughout my Navy life. I raise my weary head toward the sky, the brilliant blue sky and felt the sun's warm rays upon my weather-beaten face. These were to be the last serene moments I was to have, a thought that a few months ago I would have denied with everything in me but I now accept with a heavy heart.
Slowly, I bow my head once again, swallowing defeat and my eyes start to close. But something stops me.
"James."
Immediately, I'm pulled back to my surroundings. No, I thought. That wasn't real. That can't be real. I was all too familiar with that voice yet it felt like it had been ages since I had last heard it. Despite what my mind was urging me to do, I lift my head to look in front of me. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat.
I was looking at a woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Dark brown waves of hair fluttered around her as a gentle breeze past by. Perfectly shaped lips and nose adorned her round face while eyes the color of the sky gazed at me with longing and sadness, something that tore me apart seeing. Her tanned skin glowed slightly in the sunlight, giving her an almost angelic look. And in her brilliant blue dress she was absolutely flawless.
As I take this all in, I find myself staring at this woman.
Christine Rafferty.
I've been dying inside,
Little by little,
No where to go,
But going out of my mind
In endless circles,
Running from myself until,
You gave me a reason for standing still
This isn't possible, I thought, gaping at her. There's no way. No. But the more I told myself this the more I tried to believe that I was wrong. That everything I had heard was wrong. I wanted nothing more than that. Slowly, as painful as it was, I began to relive one of the memories I had tried so hard to shove from my mind.
I had been in Tortuga for 5 days and in those 5 days I had reduced myself to a sorry excuse of a man, wandering the streets as I may, collapsing wherever I happened to be, drunk dead. I wanted to forget everything that had happened because of that Jack Sparrow, never wanting to look back at it again for it shamed me like nothing else and I found that drink was the best way erase those memories.
One night I had fallen asleep in the doorway of an out-of-the-way inn, having stumbled all the way over there after getting a good beating at the bar and woke up to find myself stretched out on a bed in a dimly lit room. A dull throbbing echoed through my head and I carefully propped myself up onto my elbows, groaning.
"I strongly suggest that you lie back down, sir. You've got a bit of a nasty gash on your head." said a feminine voice coming out of the shadows.
Only partially aware of what was said, I sank back down into the mattress with a sigh. The room seemed to spin around me as I fought to get my bearings. A wounded head and a hangover, I learned, did not go well together. As the spinning slowly ebbed away and the throbbing reduced, I noticed a figure move toward me from the corner. I cocked my head slightly to get a better view and was immediately taken by what I saw.
She was so beautiful. From her auburn hair to her cream colored skin, she was perfect. But her eyes, her eyes were what drew me like a magnet. They shone like jewels and sparkled with such an intensity that by one glance I could tell that she was no ordinary woman.
As she got closer and started pulling a chair over to the side of the bed, I finally found my voice.
"Where am I?" I asked hoarsely.
She studied me carefully before responding. "The Hangman's Head Inn, sir." There was a slight pause before she continued. "I was coming back from some business when I found you asleep on the steps with that awful wound on your head. Not many of the..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right word. "locals come this far away from town so I figured you must have had it rough. So I took you up here to get you fixed up." She spoke with a light Scottish accent which sounded like music to my ears.
I decided to throw a bit of cockiness at her. "You shouldn't have." I said, attempting to sit up again. "I can look after myself."
She raised an eyebrow and a corner of her lip twitched into a slight smile. "Somehow a part of me refuses to believe that, sir."
"Oh, I assure you I'm quite capable. That particular...incident was due to my own unfortunate timing, Miss...?"
She blushed a deep crimson which was clearly visible even in the dim lighting. "Christine Rafferty, sir. Please forgive me for my lack of manners."
"Miss Rafferty," I finished, my commodore ways kicking in for just a moment. "James Norrington, at your service."
Christine's brows furrowed a bit as my name rung a bell in her head. "James Norrington." she repeated. "Would you not be the same Commodore James Norrington who went after that pirate Jack Sparrow?"
I sighed. "One in the same. But I'm afraid 'commodore' no long has a place in my name.
"Oh? And why is that, sir?"
I hesitated in telling my story, not wanting her pity. "Let's just say that in my desire to capture Mr. Sparrow I made a decision that wasn't to the benefit of those under my command and I can no longer call myself 'commodore' because of it." There was a slight edge in my voice that I would've called resentment.
Miss Rafferty cocked her head as she took this in. "I see, Mr. Norrington."
"Please, Miss Rafferty," I said, holding up a hand. "Call me James."
Smiling, she nodded. "Very well, James. But only if you agree to call me Christine."
I flashed her a grin before responding. "Agreed."
I stayed in Christine's care for several more days after that. Even when my head no longer felt like it was being split in two every time I moved it, she insisted that I still wasn't in any fit shape to be wandering the streets of Tortuga which I silently agreed to for I had taken a liking to her presence. And when she wasn't in town working as a barmaid during the day and fussing over my wound when she came back, we spent ages talking and I quickly learned almost all there was to learn about her.
She was the only daughter and child of Jackson Rafferty, the owner of five merchant ships that often sailed to the Caribbean. Despite having grown up in a privileged childhood in Edinburgh, Christine longed for adventure, not caring for the dutiful role she was to play when she reached womanhood. As a young girl she would often spend her time by the sea and not on her father's thickly wooded estate. She was fascinated by all the ships coming to and fro in the harbor, imaging the thrill of a life unrestrained by standards and expectations. All her life she had been free spirited and resolute on more or less taking control of her own life, not letting others make decisions for her. But then just the other year her parents had decided to send her off to the Caribbean, Port Royal specifically, with the hopes that she would marry some rich plantation owner and settle down. Despite all her attempts to escape it, she left her home on her father's ship the Angel of the Seas, setting sail for Jamaica where she would live her new life. But she never reached her destination of Port Royal.
Determined to not end up a housewife who took orders from her husband, Christine left the ship when it had come to port at Nassau and jumped on the first vessel heading out of the city. A vessel bound for a notorious pirate port. And that was how she landed in Tortuga, just a few weeks before me. It was here on this crawling, drunken haven that she found the adventure she was looking for in the uncertainty that each day brought and, of all things, she was content.
In the duration that these lengthy conversations took place, I found myself growing more and more attracted to her. Her spontaneity, her uninhibited ness, and her thirst for adventure intrigued me. No woman I had ever met, including Elizabeth, was like her in any way and I loved that. There was something about her that made me want to keep on living my life instead of drinking it all away for shame of what I did, made my accept my mistake instead of running from it. She was as unpredictable as the tide, as wild as the sea, and she had put the thrill back into my life. And when she had declared my head right as rain, she kept me on my feet and away from the rumble of the bars in town. She meant the world to me and I thought that with her I had a chance at becoming a new man, something that I had thought had become a lost cause. But little did I know that that chance was to be cruelly snatched away from me.
'Cause I want you,
And I feel you,
Crawling underneath my skin
Like a hunger,
Like a burning,
To find a place I've never been
Now I'm broken,
And I'm faded,
I'm half the man I thought I would be:
But you can have what's left of me
It was nearly 6 weeks since I came to Tortuga. Instead of spending my days in the numerous bars, drinking until I collapsed in a heap, I walked along the docks, offering my services in cleaning and unloading to incoming ships while they stayed at port, both pirate and merchant alike. I took to this like a job and it often earned me a decent amount of shillings from the traders. This was entirely Christine's doing for she insisted that if I was going to stay in Tortuga with her I was to make myself useful. I had grinned cockily when she said this replying that I already was as I kissed her. When we pulled away, she tried to hide her smile but with no avail, saying only that I had better get a move on. That was one of the things I loved about her. She was always straightforward, never embarrassed or hesitant in getting her point across.
I had planned on staying in Tortuga for just a while longer then persuade her to come away with me. We would live together wherever the sea took us for I knew how she felt about becoming a housewife, which was no life I wanted her to live. I couldn't keep her adventurous soul away from the excitement she seeked even if my life depended on it. For her, that fate would be like separating her heart from her body, something utterly impossible. I had planned it all and could barely contain myself until I told her.
Then one day she came to me as I was working on the docks, her beautiful face troubled. Immediately, I sensed that what she was about to tell me wasn't good.
"I must leave for a while, James." she said softly, taking my hands in hers. "There is some business I must attend to."
My brows furrowed in confusion. "What business is this?" I demanded. "Where are you going?"
Christine looked pained as she replied. "Please, James, I don't have time to explain. I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner. But I didn't want to break your heart."
"You're breaking it right now." I said stiffly. Why was she doing this?
Her eyes slipped away from mine. "I'm sorry."
There was a moment's pause before I responded. "I'm going with you."
"No." Her piercing gaze flew up at once to meet me. "This is something I must do on my own."
"But-"
"James, please," she said urgently, cutting me off. "The ship is about to leave. I will explain everything when I return."
I sighed in defeat, knowing that when she had her heart set on something she didn't back down from it. "What is the ship's name?"
"The Trident"
"Pirate or merchant?"
Christine gave me a small smile. "Merchant, don't worry."
"But I do." I replied softly. I dropped my gaze to the ground. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I must." She placed a hand on my chin and lifted my head so that I looked at her. Her usually hard blue eyes were now gentle and filled with meaning. "I will return to you. I promise"
Slowly, I brought my lips down to meet hers and I kissed her with all the passion that I felt for her. I loved Christine and I wanted her to know that. There was nothing in the world that meant more to me than she did and nothing even came close. I never wanted that kiss to end, wishing that I could just lose myself in it and forget about the cares of the world. But she pulled away abruptly, leaving both of us breathless. She gazed longingly at me, tears clinging to her eyes, and I was about to tell her that I loved her when she turned and ran off to another dock where a ship waited. I lost my ability to make any noise as I watched her sprint across the docks. Seeing her leave pained me and I felt my eyes start to water but I bit my lip, determined not to let my emotion get the best of me.
For the next few weeks, I hunted for any news of the Trident; her destination, her progress, anything. But no one I talked to seemed to know where exactly she was headed, only that she had charted a course to the southern tip of America. What exactly Christine planned to do in America was a mystery to me but that was the least of my worries. It was the height of the year's storm season and the hurricanes this year had been some of the most ferocious I had ever seen. The sooner I got news that the Trident had made berth, the sooner I could breathe just a little easier.
Almost a month later I was sitting in one of the bars more to catch news of the Trident than to drink when I overheard a bunch of sailors talking earnestly about a ship that had gone down in a hurricane.
"Just off the northern coast of Cuba from what I've heard." said one. "Hurricane came so suddenly, the cap'n didn't even know what hit them."
My ears pricked up when I heard the location of the disaster for I knew that Christine's ship must have gone past that way on its way back. But I prayed that it wasn't the Trident. Clutching my half consumed mug of rum, I strained to hear the rest.
"Aye, mighty strong that storm was." his companion chimed in. "Heard the bow was lifted clean out of the water 'fore she actually went down."
"Were there any survivors d'you s'ppose?" asked a third.
"Nah. All crew and passengers never made it to land. And no ships have spotted any longboats adrift."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my knuckles turn white as my death grip on my mug grew stronger. Oh God, no.
"What was the poor maiden's name?"
The contents of the mug were shaking now. Sweat had formed on my upper lip and forehead. I wanted to get up and bolt out of the room but, petrified, I couldn't seem to order my legs to move.
"An honest merchant ship, she was. Shame what happened. She was the Trident, I believe."
All at once the shaking mug stopped and so did my heart it seemed. No. Please let it be wrong. Please let it be a different ship. Yet as I thought this I knew that there was a slim chance that the sailors were wrong for news like this spread like wildfire often from those who had seen the poor ship themselves.
Slowly, I came to grips with reality. She was gone. Christine. The woman who had been in my heart and soul for the past two months. It was because of her and only her that I had kept myself alive after I had lost all hope of reclaiming my shattered life. She was the only thing that kept me away from the dark abyss that beckoned to me, its deep void almost inviting my lost will to live. And now that she was gone there was nothing to stop me from falling back into that hole and that's exactly what I did.
I went back to that sorry drunk I turned into when I first arrived in Tortuga, the drunk that didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him and did whatever he wanted. I was reckless to the point that even some of the most notorious patrons of the bars loathed me and were determined to do me in. But I didn't care. They could've killed me at anytime and I wouldn't hate them for it. I had lost my second chance, something that went beyond the pain I first experienced losing my previous life.
Falling faster,
Barely breathing,
Give me something,
To believe in
Tell me: It's not all in my head
Take what's left
Of this man
Make me whole
Once again
As my torturous memory comes to an end, I'm brought back to present time. I'm still staring at Christine before me. It agonizes me to be this close to her but to not be able to touch her. I want to know she's real, that she didn't die in the hurricane, that she came back to me like she promised. But I can't know that.
Although I've blocked out the judge, I can feel his speech coming to a close. A feeling of anticipation hangs in the air. It suddenly dawns on me that I have mere seconds to live. My heart starts beating faster. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement and the judge hastily shuffles off the platform. And that's when I decide. It doesn't matter if the Christine in front of me is her actual living, breathing body or just a figment of my imagination brought to life in my dire situation. All that matters is that at this point, the only thing that would make me even remotely whole again is knowing that she knows that I love her.
The platform vibrates as each footstep of the executioner echo on the wood as he makes his way to the lever to release the trapdoor. I take a breath and look directly into Christine's blue eyes.
"I love you, Christine." My voice is barely a whisper and I hope for my sake that she heard me whether she really was in front of me or somewhere in the heavens. Slowly, my eyes flutter shut. Then I hear something that I never thought I'd hear again.
"I love you, James." came a Scottish accented voice in a whisper equaling my own.
At that moment, my heart breaths a sigh of relief and I'm suddenly falling for a moment. And then...nothing.
A/N: Now, I wrote this in a way that you dont know for sure if Christine is alive or not because James is perfectly able to hallucinate her voice as well. So, what do you think? Is Christine really there? Or is she merely a figment of James's imagination? Review please!