Umm... Wow! Thanks so much to all those who reviewed my other two DMC stories! So nice after a bad day. :-) I'm intending to write five POV one-shots all vaguley connected in that they occur simultaneously, of which this is the third. Keep reviewing people, they are always appreciated!

Set in Beckett's office at the end of DMC. Mild spoilers.

Disclaimer: Whoops, forgot on the other two. I own nothing but my interpretation; the folks at Disney/Bruckheimer Productions probably own everything else.


Concepts

He knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that this was not a good idea. That none of this had been a good idea. He dreaded the thought that he may never be capable of a good idea ever again.

But he'd been presented with an opportunity. The kind that spoke to the deep, dark depths of every man, woman and maybe even child. Every human. He was, he had realised in that moment, as corrupt as the next man.

He had run, cheated, lied, stolen and run some more. Maybe that was symbolic, but he was no longer so fond of symbolism. It tripped and tangled you, and made you fall and suffocate in the end. Not this time though.

This time he was stripped bare, open and bereft of any symbolism. He carried nothing that he didn't need. He had grown more in the last few days than all the years of his life.

He was a changed man.

He was a lost man found.

He was James Norrington.

This time he had seen the way, and ignored the concepts of right and wrong in favour of the concept of self-preservation.

This time he was not fooled by any self imposed ideas of reputation and respect.

Norrington dumped the eerily thumping bag on the desk, and inwardly smiled at the look on Beckett's face.

This time he was on the winning side.