(Author's Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you to my lovely reviewers! A tot of virtual rum on me! I'm glad you all like it – I'm not usually a comic writer, so I'm glad you find my stab at parody funny! And it's nice to know you like the serious bits, too. I'd love some predictions about where I'm taking this – a humble request from yours truly.

I don't have too much to say here, other than certain other canon characters will be making appearances in the next chapters - some short and some coming in for major roles. And yes, Belle St. Croix -hiss- is back! Note - James addresses Belle St. Croix as Belle, and Laura addresses her as Miss St. Croix.)

Laura decided her memory was getting dotty, when she woke the next morning and for a second did not remember how Commodore James Norrington had ended up in her bed, arms protectively around her waist. As remembrance of the events and sentiments of the night before returned, she smiled placidly before deciding that the world was a very good place, after all the misery she had been subjected to at its hands. Gently, nervously almost, she brushed his knuckles. Nothing – he did not stir. No matter. The morning could not have been more perfect.

Until she realized his breath on her neck tickled abominably, then she had to do something about it.

"James," she whispered over her shoulder, "James."

"Hmmm?"

"It's morning."

"We ought to get up, I suppose."

Laura made a move to do so, but was prevented from doing so by James's continuing embrace.

"James."

"Stay, Laura, please. As ridiculous and as childish as it sounds, I really don't want to get up."

"And you need me to stay?"

"I'd prefer it, yes."

She stopped trying to get up, taken by a very mischievous turn of thought.

"Fine. I can think of no better way to compromise our reputations."

"That wasn't my intention."

"What was your intention?"

"In what?"

"In the events of the last twelve hours."

"To marry you."

"You have left me with no choice, I must marry you."

"Are you saying you don't want to marry me?"

"James!"

"I'm teasing you, Laura!"

"I know. But James, we are going to be married, right? You promise, right?"

James let go of her, pushing himself up to a sitting position. Laura followed suit, only to be embraced again.

"As soon as possible," he said finally, "But right now, Laura, leave such matters be. This is the first morning I've woken up and been glad to be alive."

With that, both of them fell into a comfortable silence, watching the sun rise through the wide windows on the east wall. Neither truly minded the impropriety of the situation – as long as she could hear the beat of his heart and he could smell her gentle lavender scent, both of them were content. It took James and Laura a while to realize that he was holding her hand. The rest of the world was somewhat irrelevant at that point, and they were content to leave it be so.

When the clock struck a late hour, however, it became inevitable that the couple should have to part. Though there was almost no point in being discreet, as both reasoned at least part of the household had to know, Laura and James parted secretly. He dressed himself efficiently and left, sneaking to the sitting room as she called for Janet.

"Miss Bell?"

"Janet, dress me."

She began the long process of clothing her mistress, made difficult by Laura's alternating energy and quiet. When Janet had finally gotten Laura into the blue cotton round gown, and brushed back her strangely tousled hair, she, having served Laura since she was a small girl, knew there was something amiss, which was confirmed by the state of the bed.

Laura caught Janet's significant look and sighed. Janet would know of the engagement soon enough, and could be trusted.

"Commodore Norrington and I … have come to an understanding."

Janet's eyebrows rose.

"Neither of us … had … control. What happened was an accident, symptomatic of truer regard. We are, thankfully, engaged."

Laura lowered her voice.

"Don't tell anyone, and for the love of me, do the washing yourself!"

"Yes, Miss Laura. And may I be the first of many to congratulate you on your impending marriage. Lord, what am I saying? It's about time you two figured things out. For being one of the most honest souls in Port Royal, you couldn't tell him earlier? And for him being one of the brightest, it took him until he was in your bed to figure out you loved him?"

Laura was stunned, comically almost. Had she been in a cartoon – an invention she had no idea of save the political cartoons in the papers – she would have had large eyes and her jaw on the floor.

"Janet!"

"Begging your pardon, Miss, but it's the truth," she shrugged.

"Did you know all along about my regard for the Commodore?"

"Since you were four, dear. You've been discreet about it to society, but it becomes obvious to us when you watch him leave in the window and have your father's best brandy decanted for him."

"Oh."

Laura seemed a bit recovered, but still seemed a bit put out.

"And I would hope he realized I loved him a bit before that, Janet."

Janet coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, "Men."

"Talk to the others and make them swear to say nothing if they know anything."

"It will be done – but Miss Laura, you were the last to bed and, you realize, it is a Saturday morning. The entire household is about tasks or at the marketplace. I believe I am the only soul who knows."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I had a guest to attend to."

Something close to a smirk crossed Laura's hitherto innocent features as she stepped out, down the hall and into the sitting room, the happiest woman in the world.

"James."

She held out her hand and he obliged with a proper kiss followed by an improper embrace.

"Laura."

Memories from the night before made her positively flush whenever she heard him say her name. Unlike Belle St. Croix, Laura's blush was not becoming, as it accented her freckles and was, even in cases where she was only mildly embarrassed – which was most definitely not the case in this incident – some sort of brash cerise. Nevertheless, it was, as things may be in such matters, the thought which counts, and James found himself losing his affection for Miss Swann rather more quickly that he would have thought he would.

"We can be married now, if you like. Bring your maid for our witness and we shall be legally married. The large ceremony can wait."

"Shan't I tell my mother?"

"You can tell her when we return."

The pair, almost married, regarded each other and weighed the situation, before coming to the unanimous conclusion that everything could wait for them to return. James offered her his arm, and they headed off.

"Janet! Come with us! We are in need of a witness!"

Laura giggled – well, not a true girly giggle, but more of a lighthearted laugh – as the poor woman appeared at the top of the stairs, right behind Laura and James.

"Take this, Laura – my ring."

James slipped the signet ring off the last finger of his left hand, and handed it to Laura.

"Keep it. You'll have a proper ring when we marry. This, I hope, will do for now."

Both of them knew Laura would wear a worm if it signified a promise James had made to her, so it made Laura even happier than she had been a moment before to move the heavy gold signet ring over the ring finger of her left hand. The two began to process down the stairs as they heard hoof-beats on the drive.

"Is that Marcus, Janet?"

"I haven't sent for him, Miss Laura."

She shrugged, untroubled where she ought to have been, most emphatically. For when she and James were halfway down the steps, Janet shouted.

"Miss Laura! Your cape and bonnet!"

Laura stopped and turned, which would have been innocuous in itself, had James similarly stopped. As it was, he didn't, the consequences of which were immediate and frightening. Normally a reasonably well balanced man, James's center of gravity had quite gone with the excitement of the morning, and, as a result, the tug of Laura's stationary arm threw him off what little poise he had. Once he had started to fall in his full dress uniform, there was no force on heaven or earth that could have stopped him.

Laura made a valiant effort, but could not stop him. In complete horror, she watched him tumble down the long flight, a tiny scream torn from her desperate throat when his head hit the floor with a sickening crack, oblivious to the fact the perfect Belle St. Croix had just walked in.

"James!"

Laura rushed down the stairs, but was too late to his side after Belle St. Croix.

"James! James!"

Oh, she was so close, as she rushed, but all her shouting did not stir him. Someone else knelt by his side, brushing his head with her dainty gloved hands.

"Wake up, James," the lady whispered calmly, in a voice Laura hoped never to hear again, "You there! Send for a doctor!"

It shocked Laura to realize that the lady was ordering her about in her own house. But that was immaterial when James was hurt because of her. Janet, however, ran past her, glaring at her to stay in one place where a servant could do just as well.

As she reached his side, James began to stir.

"Laura?"

"No, James. Belle."

The first thing James saw when he came to was a pair of luminescent blue eyes set in the most beautiful face he had ever seen, more beautiful that even than the legendary countenance of Miss Swann. There was a dull ache in the back of his mind, a mist, and a glimmer of recognition doused by the intensity of the lady's stare. It was as if his whole life he had been waiting for the right woman. She had not been Miss Swann. She had been Belle. And before he could think of anything else, he found himself in love. Deep in love.

James came to his feet slowly, awkwardly, eyes only on Belle – her deep eyes, her ivory skin, her flowing hair and pianist's hands, and her beautiful dress.

"I fancy a walk by the cliffs, James. But I'm afraid my father is too busy with his governorali … govena … gorve … "

Laura couldn't believe it!

"Gubernatorial, I believe is the word you search for, Miss St. Croix."

"Right," she smiled, batting her impossibly long lashes and James soon forgot, in light of her perfect lashes and angelic voice, her stupidity, "Gubernatorial duties. My father is too busy with his gubetaro … glubantinor … gubernatorial duties to be my escort. Would you do me the honor, James?"

"My pleasure, Belle."

Laura had to know what had happened.

"Wait – Miss St. Croix – your father, the governor? What of Governor Swann?"

"Weatherby Swann is no longer the Governor. His term has expired, and, by order of his Majesty King William the Third -"

"Miss St. Croix … the king is his Majesty King George the First."

"That's what I meant," she smiled again, favoring her audience with a blinding smile, "By order of His Majesty King George the Third-"

"First, Miss St. Croix, First!"

"-His Majesty King George the First, my father is the new Governor of Jamaica."

"I must congratulate your father, then!"

To Laura, this was getting simultaneously more ridiculous and more confusing.

"My father? Lord St. Croix? I'm sure he would appreciate your thanks, James."

"Let us make haste, then, Belle!"

A strangled cry of, "James," caught in Laura's throat as the delirious couple waltzed through the door without as much as a by-your-leave. Without willing anything, Laura reached out her left hand for the door.

"James."

It was not a cry, nor was it a spoken word. No, the very sound differed so greatly from the way that Belle St. Croix had said it. That woman had almost sung his name, like a child's snatch of tune. Laura said it, whimpered it, wailed it, sobbed it, pleaded it, begged it, shouted it – all in the same, broken syllable. That St. Croix woman had called him like a Siren collecting her prize; Laura whispered it like a supplicant begging the favor of the gods at an abandoned shrine – hopeless in the face of the end.

"James," she repeated, her voice raw and inaudible.

Another solitary tear slid down her flawed, freckled cheek, and in that instant, her heartbreak was stunningly beautiful.

But Laura was no stranger to heartbreak, and though she bent under the weight of being abandoned yet again, she did not break. Laura swore she would never break, and she was a woman – yes, she was a woman, so irrevocably a woman now – of her word. Even if James abandoned her, she had enough to live for. And Laura, watching the sun glint off the ring, his ring, found some hope.

"BROKENSPAR!"