(Author's Notes – An idea came to mind and wouldn't leave, so I present this oneshot. I'm not really sure what to do with it – I suppose it stands alone, but I could be seen as a companion piece to In the Wrong, at least in later chapters which I have yet to post. Set between CotBP and DMC, it's sort of an open ended piece. You can read it any way you want, I suppose – let me know what you think!
The title is taken from a song on the Rent soundtrack, "Love Heals")
A Thousand Times Before
Though he had been from Dover to Delhi and all manner of places in between, he had never had a night like this. Only in the Caribbean could a night be so perfect.
Which was ironic, really, because only in the Caribbean could his life be so miserable and un-perfect. If that wasn't a word, Oxford could bloody well shove it up their own … God, he'd been at the brandy again.
That was not to say his life hadn't been perfect in the Caribbean. No, there was a time he'd had everything he'd ever hoped for, and his wildest dreams had almost been realized.
Of course, he should have realized it was only temporary. Things change. Tides go in and come out. Mirrors break. Fairy tales end. Happily ever after doesn't always end, well, happily. Bad things happen.
Seven bells struck outside. Half hour until midnight, until another day, and another watch at least until the sun rose in a blaze of glory. Of course he was up this late, drinking as he plotted a course through reefs, shoals, shallows and sandbars. He tried to put his heart in it, he truly did, and to some extent he succeeded, but the other part of him would not be engaged. Realizing he had drawn a line from Nassau to Kingston fourteen times, Commodore James Norrington flung the pencil across the cabin, and stormed up on deck.
As he had noted before, the night was perfect. A cool breeze pushed the Dauntless along at a calm pace. The sea's surface was tranquil, only a few swells rising to throw their weight against the Dauntless. Against her. James Norrington lovingly ran his hand over the taffrail as he leaned against it, watching the moon make a treasure chest of the wake.
Seeing he was being observed by the officer of the watch, and in such a state too, he knew he had to leave the quarterdeck. Midships was the stomping grounds of the crew, and he could not stay there.
The bowsprit – between sea and sky and ship – that was his only haven.
Any amount of purpose in his path could not completely overpower the brandy in his system, and the swells caused him to stagger more than the sea called for. Not that it mattered. Nothing really mattered anymore, except his duty. And her. She mattered quite a bit, too, the Dauntless. She was the one woman who had never and would never abandon him, simply because she was his, had been his, and would always continue to be his. Maybe not the keel, the hull, the deck and the sails, but what was between her planks, what steadied the helm and smiled on the stars, what kept him company on cold nights, putrid days and fearful calms. That Dauntless, she would be by his side into eternity.
Swinging out into the bowsprit, James Norrington held onto a line and stared moodily out to sea, at times staring down at the water and at others out to the horizon, where sea met sky in one dark abyss that could swallow a man whole.
"Do you ever just want to disappear? Simply sail over the horizon, never to be seen or heard from again?"
Oddly enough, at least to many, James Norrington expected an answer and more – on nights like this one, he had heard the Dauntless speak. This particular one, he did not hear anything, and had to content himself with waiting. He knew she'd come around to answering him, eventually.
No, James, I don't want to sail off the edge of the map.
Finally, she'd answered.
"Never? Not after all the battles, chases and ceremonies?"
No.
"You never tire of this life?"
Sometimes, but I've always held it to be better than the alternative.
"What's that?"
Furniture. Being stuck in one place my entire life would ruin me, James.
It was true, he had to admit. The Dauntless shuddered and rolled at anchor like a recalcitrant colt; she was much calmer even in stormy seas.
Aren't you afraid of simply disappearing, James?
He couldn't tell if she was teasing him or asking a straight question; she had been known to do both. Right now, though, he could not bring himself to spar and opted instead for honesty.
"A little. Perhaps a good deal more than I'd like to admit."
I never marked you for a man who feared anything.
"You know that's not true. You saw my first battle, and undoubtedly my reaction. I've been afraid. Once you know the beast, you don't dread it, though. I stopped fearing battles, sickness, and storms because I'd been through them all. I suppose I'm not afraid of death, to the extent that I know I can't escape. But knowing that I don't know what will happen to me … "
Fear of the unknown. Natural enough.
"But then there are times where, when I know what will happen, I wish I could just disappear, but … I can't. I know. People rely on me. Sometimes it seems like if I don't wake up, things stop, like the world rests on my shoulders.
To some extent, I'd guess it does. Look around you, James. I rely on you; the crew relies on you, and an entire fleet in the Caribbean!. Beyond the Royal Navy, the Caribbean at large! They all count on you to keep them safe and reasonably wealthy. Maybe the sun doesn't rise and set on you, James, but quite a few things do.
"My duty."
Your duty. That's what you say to everything, James, is that it is your duty, or it is the honorable thing, or the right thing.
"Well, that's what's required of me."
Is it required of you, or do you require it of yourself?
"The former in the beginning, the latter the present."
Do you love me anymore?
"What?"
I asked: Do you love me any more?
"How can you ask?"
I want to know whether you still come back to me because you love me, or because of your duty.
James Norrington looked around him, at the billowing sails lit with a bluish glow in the moonlight, at the ashen decks and pitch-black rigging, at the winking bronze of the cannon and bell.
"You're the finest woman in the world – I come back to you because I love you."
And your duty?
"Even if my duty required my absence or banned my presence, I would still come back to you."
She did not respond right away, but her bow lifted high over a swell, as if to lift him towards the stars.
"There's a girl."
He smiled and rubbed the smooth wood.
"You're never going to up and leave me, are you?"
Never. You are my favorite, James. I will stand with you until the bitter end; we go down together.
He smiled, enjoying her favor on this perfect night, knowing that even if he loved Miss Swann, he loved and was loved by another woman. This was for the best.
"Do you think you could take another sheet or two?"
Her response was something like a laugh, rolling out into the sea for miles. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he felt the breeze begin to pick up into a fine wind.
"Mr. Quincy! Call up the watch and set all canvas!"
Her decks shook and shuddered as men leaped into the rigging, spilling white canvas down from dark yards. Beneath his feet, he could see the sea drift by at a quicker pace. He could feel the wind, the spray, the moon, and most of all, alive and on the hunt, headed off into the blue nowhere.
And if one looked closely from the quarterdeck, one would have seen him, Commodore James Norrington, in a state of wild undress, balancing with the swell on the bowsprit, laughing as the spray soaked him through, with one arm around a stately, if ghostly woman – the spirit of the Dauntless.