AN: many thanks to my reviewers so far. Et…voila, here's the next instalment! Featuring rather angsty Norrington, and much awkward situation with Elizabeth. Drop me a line if you liked it (or even if you loathed it) and wish me luck tomorrow, I'm taking the leaver's service at school and I will be sobbing, I know – dd xx

2

It was late when Norrington awoke that Sunday morning, to the sound of breaking waves and harshly calling birds. Blinding Caribbean sunshine was streaming into his bedroom, falling across the tired figure lying amongst crumpled, sweaty sheets.

He splashed his face with cold water and regarded his reflection in the mirror. The tousled hair, the pallid skin and black bruises beneath his eyes. No, he was certainly not bearing up well. Even with his wig carefully placed on his aching head, his smart coat glistening in the morning sunlight, and his wretched sword hanging at his waist, he still looked somehow below par, not the menacing Commodore who had previously commanded the respect of all of Port Royal.

But there was little time to fret – the Governor's carriage pulled up smartly outside the house as he watched, and, straightening his hat, he sprung onto the runner board and sat down beside the Governor. His heart twisted uncomfortably as he kissed Elizabeth's gloved hand with dry lips, murmuring 'Miss Swann' with terrible awkwardness. She, too, seemed a little nervous, and avoided his eyes as they sped to church. In the cramped confines of the carriage he tried not to let his long legs brush against her skirts, and strove to engage himself in the Governor's idle chatter of a new pier in the bay.

The service was long, and hot, and Norrington felt his stifled irritation grow as he resisted the urge to swat passing, droning flies. His eyes sliding sideways, he could see Elizabeth's young skin was also covered in a glowing film of sweat, and he swallowed dryly, turning abruptly to the front of the church, frantically trying to focus on the lesson being read from St John's Gospel.

Am I mad? He thought miserably, feeling a trickle of sweat run down his neck. His life, he realised, was all about pretence – pretence that it did not hurt to hand Elizabeth honourably to Will Turner, pretence that he was in fact a cold and detached officer, rather than a gentle, emotional man, who was crumbling inside.

Pretence that he was a God-fearing man upholding the rules of the Good Book, rather than thinking distinctly impure thoughts about the Governor's daughter, a woman who belonged to another. Bordering on adultery, he scolded himself.

Despite the press of Elizabeth's thigh against his in the small pew reserved for the nobility of Port Royal in the little church, it was with great relief that he exited the building, dropping a few coins into the collection box and greeting the vicar warmly, noting that his hands were damp too, as he clasped those of the Commodore's. Norrington felt more than a little guilty for having drifted into idle fantasies of feeding Elizabeth slices of mango on a beach somewhere during the sermon.

He was readying himself for the short walk to the fort for the weekly bulletins from Gillette and Groves, when he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

'Commodore Norrington?'

It was Elizabeth, squinting up at him, her eyes shaded from the sun by a wide-brimmed hat which made the heart shape of her face even more unbearably beautiful.

'Yes, Miss Swann?' he asked quietly, his throat feeling somehow restricted.

'I…Commodore, I…please call me Elizabeth.'

'That would hardly be proper, would it, Miss Swann?'

'Are we not friends?' her dark eyes were scanning his face, and he tried to appear as impassive as possible, though his hand was twitching to stroke her shadowed cheek.

'I did not think it possible for men and women of our position to be friends, Miss Swann.'

'Oh.' For a moment he fancied she looked truly hurt by his reply. 'Have we not known each other years, James?'

His name sounded so sweet rolling from her tongue…he imagined hearing her call him 'James' every night and morning for the rest of his life…or even 'Jamie', as he had been known as a boy in grey England. It was too much to bear.

'Eight years, if I am not mistaken.'

'I…I would hate to lose that friendship, Commodore.'

'You will always have it.' Something inside him cracked quietly…but the gentle, pitying smile on her angelic face reassured him he was taking the right path. At detriment to himself, as ever, but with the best result – the happiness of a most beloved woman.

'I know…it has been the most important thing in my life, James…what you did yesterday…I cannot say how much…' she seemed embarrassed and looked down demurely.

Norrington swallowed slowly, and decided to feign ignorance, as he had done with Groves the evening before. 'I am afraid I was entirely serious. As soon as the Dauntless is seaworthy, I will be setting out in pursuit of Captain Sparrow.'

'No, you misunderstand me…not Jack…I meant…what you did for me…' she trailed off, confused and unable to voice her emotions, her confounded gratitude.

I know, he thought. He did not want to hear a word from her about his damned honour and sense of propriety and nobility. But she continued, compounding his misery.

'James…you know I cannot thank you enough for your words to Will yesterday…I am ever in your debt. And Will…he wishes to express his gratitude also.'

Norrington felt ill, and he dragged his gaze from hers and looked distractedly around the courtyard of the church, at the vast cloudless sky. 'My one object was your happiness, Miss Swann. If, by my actions, I have succeeded in that aim, then I shall be content.' He hated himself for his stiff tone, his total inability to tell her in warm, elegant words about his mad love for her, the immortal feelings he inspired in her.

'Oh, James!' he was greatly alarmed to see tears well up in her eyes, and even more so to feel her slender arms around his neck and her soft lips on his. It was a sisterly kiss, a kiss of thanks and platonic love, but he could not help his breath from hitching at the feel of her body against his, even through the stiff brocade of his jacket.

He pulled himself away from her, his face flushed with anxiety, desire and shame. 'Please…Elizabeth…don't…' To have her tempt him with something forbidden, something already pledged away to another, was akin to a knife in the breast. His composure returned almost immediately, though his heart was still racing madly and his lips still smarted with the unexpected pressure of hers.

'Miss Swann…I need…no repayment for my action. I repeat…to see you happy and smiling is reward enough for me.'

Her eyes were twinkling gently as she took her arms slowly from around his neck, and she smiled somewhat sadly.

'James…I know, I truly know that I have caused you deep harm. I am not stupid. I would…I would like you to be happy, too. If I may be frank…too frank, no doubt, but we are not strangers, are we, Commodore? I…you know I would not have been a good wife for you. I am not dutiful enough…I would annoy you dreadfully, wouldn't I? And…you must own I keep…less than desirable company.' She watched him closely – his blank face, with only the faintest crease of a frown between his eyes.

'Yes…yes,' he muttered distractedly. 'Please…have no concern on my part. We are both honourable people…and I have no doubt I will find ample distraction in my work to keep me contented for the rest of my life. But…Miss Swann…I do appreciate your words. I would…I would hate to lose your acquaintance. Last night…I berated myself for having lost your heart…fool that I am. I realise now that I never truly possessed it…and your esteem and regard must suffice.' Again, his true thoughts refused to spill out of him…but the look of relief and gentle joy on Elizabeth's face as he turned and walked out of the churchyard was comforting.

He simply hoped no one had seen her impulsively embracing him. The sudden end to their betrothal had caused enough idle gossip in Port Royal, without rumours of illicit affairs on a Sunday plaguing him in his despondency, too.

AN: ah…poor old Norrington. I want him for my own so I can feed him chocolate and kiss the owie better. Erm…ok. Hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will see the arrival of Groves' family…including the replacement love interest, naturellement. I must confess, this entire plot is a bit on the predictable side, but I'm having fun writing it, so… lots of love, dd xx