Four Years ago
Aboard the Icarus

She recognized the book of sonnets instantly from his cabin aboard the Providence . She reached for it, careful not to disturb him as he dozed beside her. Her body still floated in a sated, pleasant space and she wasn't quite ready to abandon such a peaceful moment with him for sleep.

She flipped back the blue leather cover, skimming the pages. Each sonnet was lovingly annotated. A word underlined here. A note scribbled there. Had this been from his days at uni? A class on Shakespearean literature? Or was this all on his own? His own way to retreat from the day and demands of his post? She turned another page, smiling warmly at the text.

She didn't jump when his hand settled on her arm.

"Making yourself at home?" His voice was thick with sleep.

"It was the on the table. I wondered about it from the first time I saw it."

He hummed lazily, rolling over on his side and tucking in closer against her. "Wondered what about it?"

"If it was personal for you. Or just for show." She looked over at him with a small smile, flashing him a page. "These annotations are carefully made and thoroughly explored. On every single page that I've seen, so far."

"And your verdict?"

"There might just be a poet lurking beneath the military man somewhere."

He scoffed with a rumbling laugh. "Hardly. I'm envious of those who have a way with words. The Bard just happens to be a personal favorite."

"Could be argued he's the original."

"Are you a fan, as well?"

"Hardly." She scoffed in return. "I'm familiar with the popular 'Friends, Romans, countrymen ' and 'To be or not to be ', but beyond that…oh, I think I read Love's Labor's Lost and Much Ado About Nothing in school."

His green eyes shone with fond amusement. "I won't hold it against you."

She breathed a soft laugh, unable to stop herself from leaning over until her lips met his. The kiss was lazy, slow, and…oddly content. Everything about this just felt too right. She leaned further into him, drinking up his sigh as his arm snaked around her back, holding her close. Her hands, still holding the book, caught awkwardly between them.

She laughed softly, shuffling to better get comfortable as she brought her arm with the book to rest on his chest. How was his t-shirt so soft? "Which one of these is your favorite?"

"Depends on my mood."

"How about right now?"

His smile lit with wicked promise. "Number 129 – the one about lust."

"Mmm." A wave of answering heat bolted through her. "Sounds intriguing."

"It's not the most uplifting. 'All this the world well knows, yet none knows well to shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.'"

She coked a brow. "And being with me makes you think of that?"

He smirked, leaning in to just brush her lips. "You did ask."

"But I thought –."

"You thought I'd go for the more popular ones? 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Or 'Let me count the ways'."

"A girl can always hope."

He rolled over, using his weight to press her back against the bunk, her eyes wide with eager anticipation as he plucked the book from her hand, setting it carefully aside.

"Then allow me to educate you." He started drifting down, words tingling along her skin as his hand settled to her waist. "On the virtues of Shakespeare's other sonnets."

She hummed appreciatively as he rucked up her shirt, his lips dancing along the tops of her breasts.

"Numbers 36 and 96," he drew a hardened peak between his teeth, "that both end in the same couplet. 'But do not so; I love thee in such sort'." He slid over to her other breast as she moaned, hands carding through his hair. "As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.'"

"God, James." Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to push up into his hips.

His answering chuckle rumbled against her skin as he abandoned her chest, trailing down her stomach. "Or how about Number 99 - with the extra line - 'but sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee'." His tongue dipped into her navel. "Requires that much more patience to reach the sonnet's resolution."

A whimper sounded in her throat, dissolving into a moan as his fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts. Sure, it had only been a matter of hours since she'd last had his touch - but nothing was going to stop her from having him again. She lifted her hips, easing the slide of fabric as his breath ghosted over the newly revealed skin.

"And, of course, Number 147." A kiss pressed to her inner thigh, teeth just nipping the sensitive skin as words danced. "'Past cure I am, now reason is past care, and frantic-mad with evermore unrest'." His tongue trailed along the tight leg muscle as her hips bucked, desperate for him to just fucking take her already. "'My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, at random from the truth vainly expressed'."

She tugged at his hair, a needy sigh on her lips. "James, please….I want you."

He pressed a kiss just shy of where she craved him most. "'For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night'."

She lost all thought when his tongue swept along her and pushed inside.

X

"Your company's going to come at me with a damages suit, aren't they?" He pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Yes. Especially once you're removed from your association with the Royal Navy." She sighed, holding onto him tighter in the tangled bedsheets. "Though, I wouldn't put it past them to send a suit to the Royal Navy, as well. Gross negligence for letting you remain in command for so long and so forth."

"And that's just once the Admiralty's enquiries are complete." He shook his head. "Those proceedings have been known to drag on for months – years, sometimes."

"Usually the higher profile the subject, the longer and more public the proceedings."

"Don't remind me."

"And what's more high profile than the youngest commodore the naval fleet has known?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You think anyone will notice if I change my name?"

Her mouth upturned, looking at him sharply. "You? A man of your honor?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Then perhaps I'll just resign my commission before they can file anything formal against me. Disappear on an island for a time – grow out my hair and a beard. Fight piracy from the inside. Undercover."

"You try to disappear, and they will hunt you down. The company only ever lets someone get away if they're dead, and even then, they still might seek reparations from the family."

"Well, they're welcome to try, but they'll find my family has very little offer that they'd care about."

Her brow pinched in curiosity. "Had a bit of a falling out?"

"Familial love was never there to fall out. My military parents were good with discipline and order, but lacking in the emotional support."

"Well, you seem well-adjusted enough."

He snorted a breathy chuckle. "We haven't even been together for twenty-four hours yet."

Her brows raised. "Is that what we are now? Together?"

He laved his tongue along her collarbone. "I don't know what else you would call this."

"And when the sun rises?"

"Same as it has been - make for port, pursue our quarry."

"That won't work."

"I refuse to admit defeat."

She sighed. "As I've said – I don't think that will be your choice to make. Admiralty orders travel fast over the ocean, you know. Hell, my termination notice may already be in my inbox."

"Then come work undercover with me. We'll take down piracy from within."

She laughed at the thought, but really – wait, was there something to it….? They both stood to lose everything they had – positions, status, employment, security. Her even more so with this newly developed romantic entanglement. There was no way she would be allowed to continue her assignment when they found out she'd fallen willingly into James Norrington"s bed.

In a word, it was simple. She had failed. At everything. Failed to stop the rising pirate threat. Failed to bring the man Sparrow to justice. Failed to objectively report on the commodore's fitness for command.

For the first time in her life, she had failed.

The realization hit hard, pitting deep in her chest. Now that the idea had taken root in her brain, the cause-analysis was easy. So many moments filtered through her mind – moments where she should have spoken up. Put an end to this lunacy. Questioned his orders and demanded a different course.

But it was just too late now. Too late for redemption.

The gears started turning. She'd always been better at solving problems then surrendering. Maybe…maybe there was some way to salvage this. Some way to find the promise of redemption.

But no one in her circle would grant Cutlena Beckett a second chance. This…it would have to do be done under the radar. Without knowledge or official authorization.

What word had he used again? Undercover. And for that to truly work, there was only one way. Like she said.

He lifted his head, brow wrinkling. "You alright? You look far away…."

She licked her lips, looking at him with an earnest hesitance. "We have to die, James."

Surprise lit his face. "So soon?"

"You said you wanted to go undercover – to continue the fight? Well, they'll never stop searching for us unless we're dead."

"I didn't say it's what I wanted. And you…you don't have to go down with me."

She teased with a self-deprecating smile. "Haven't you been listening? I failed at this. And I refuse to be branded a failure to my face when this is still salvageable."

"Maybe salvageable, but it's completely mental."

"No doubt. But what's worse – living in disgrace for the rest of our days? Or taking this chance and – hopefully – proving everyone wrong. And if not? If we're not successful? Well, fuck - we'll be dead already. No one will ever know."

"It's not that simple to fake one's death."

"No." She agreed. "That's why we'll have to make it convincing."

Silence lingered as they just touched, letting the idea turn over in their minds. It was risky. It was life changing. It would change everything about them and they would be in it. Together. God, were they really ready for such a commitment?

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, conspiratorial. "We'll scuttle the ship. Go down with her."

"What about the everyone else?"

"We'll evacuate them, first, and leave them in Groves' command. Then, we'll go under. There's emergency lifesaving equipment on board."

"Emergency lifesaving equipment?"

"Scuba equipment, basically. Naval grade."

"Well yes, that will be helpful – if we're to go down with a sinking ship and not drown."

His lips pulled up to grin. "Do I hear nerves putting you on the defensive?"

She stared at him, incredulous. "You ass. It's not everyday that I actually think about going down on a sinking ship and relying on naval grade equipment to save my life."

He smiled, his gaze earnest as their eyes locked and he shifted, pressing closer to her. "You'll be fine. That will be the easy part. It'll get much rougher once we surface and have to figure out what to do next."

Boy, wasn't that the truth of it. What would they do? How would they get money? Where would they go? But wasn't that going to be part of it? Part of building the background and credibility to invade pirate havens without suspicion? Especially for such a known, noteworthy pirate hunter.

She craned her neck, slotting her mouth to his, trying to convey so many jumbled thoughts through the kiss. His lips hovered over hers as they parted, pressed tight together, noses brushing. His earlier question echoed in her mind and she had to ask. "Is it worth it to you?"

His puff of amused breath tickled her cheek. "You are."

Sometime later, when she collapsed atop him and he fell back into the bunk, sticky and lethargic, sealed in their commitment to this madness, her eyes had just closed when he shuffled out of the bunk.

"What - where are you going?" She watched him step into his discarded pajama pants and t-shirt.

"You should sleep for now." He stepped back over, brushing a kiss to her temple. "I need to see to a few arrangements. We need to be ready whenever the opportunity presents itself."

"Hmm, and what about sleep for yourself?"

"I wouldn't be able to sleep now anyway."

"Then I didn't do a good enough job." She sighed, angling for one last kiss. "Don't be gone too long."

"No, ma'am." He pressed another kiss to her brow. "There's too much that you have to learn."

"What? Now you tell me?"

Cutlena watched Theodore leave the Icarus ' bridge, blowing a sigh as she turned back to James, the ship shaking beneath her feet. Water sloshed around as the Dutchman continued to advance. "What do I need to do?"

James pointed at a far console. "Reactivate the torpedo panel. There's a loose wire that needs to be reconnected."

"Something that simple can take the whole system down?"

"If it's the right wire."

She dropped down in front of the console, pulling the front panel cover off. The inside was a tangle of wires and messy looking circuits. She squinted inside, poking around the wire bundles to try and spot the loose one.

There it was. An innocuous yellow wire just hanging loose. She shook her head. "I need - pliers or something."

"Look down at the bottom of the panel. I left the tool there."

She huffed a soft laugh as she actually looked, and sure enough, reached in to grab the pliers. "One might think you've committed sabotage before."

"No. But I have hot-wired a car before."

"So have I." She gripped the wire and maneuvered it towards the only open port. The insulation had been stripped away, leaving the copper end exposed and she pushed it in, trying to secure it in place. "There's a connector missing - it's holding, but it won't stay long."

"It doesn't have to stay long. Just stuff as much of the bent end in the port as you can. That'll be enough."

With a little more finagling, the wire held its place in the port. It certainly wasn't pretty looking but it just had to arm one torpedo.

"Alright. It's done." The rest of the wires jostled as she pulled her hand back, reaching for the panel cover. It slid easily back into place as she registered him coming to stand alongside her, punching on the console.

"Excellent work. Up and running again."

She sighed as she rose to her feet, her stomach balling with anxiety as she took in the position of the ship, perfectly poised to ram right into theDutchman's side. Shells still exploded, flames and smoke largely obscuring the view of the other ship that lay dead ahead.

This had better work. She didn't really want to die today.

"There we go." His words were the final step, the point of no return. "Torpedo will detonate on impact. Now, it's just full steam ahead."

She licked her lips nervously, glancing at him quickly before he moved back for the helm.

"And your sure that the torpedo won't take out the entirety of the Icarus?"

"It shouldn't. Being the smallest one onboard, I expect the better part of the ship's front end to go up. That's why we'll be in the back." He punched a final button on the console and she felt the massive engines kick into gear. "Time to go."

She didn't need to be told twice.

They crossed the deck with the swift speed of familiarity, throwing open the submarine door to the back part of the ship's deck. The starboard cargo room was four decks down and located just aft of the main engine room. In theory, if James was right, that should give them plenty of protection from the ensuing torpedo explosion with hundreds of meters of steel between them and the focal point of the blast. Besides, the Ducthman should absorb the brunt of it.

But as the ship picked up speed, the whirring of the engines loud in the otherwise silent cargo hold, the reality of what they were doing came crashing down around her. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"Believe it. There's not much time now." He threw open a crate that was stationed right by the hatch in the ship's hull. She couldn't help but stare as he pulled out masks, regulators, and fins. A collection of oxygen tanks, all secured together and weighted rested next to the crate.

"Won't those float up to the surface?" She asked, hating the anxious edge to her voice.

"No, they're weighted for neutral buoyancy."

"When did you do that?"

"Last night."

"You were busy."

"Well, it's not every day that I plan to fake my death." He righted from digging in the crate, slapping what looked like a large watch on his wrist as he glanced over at her. A flash of concern softened his gaze. "Are you alright?"

She licked her lips, effecting a nervous laugh. "Well, it's not every day I'm on a ship that's about to be destroyed by a torpedo."

"We'll be alright." The absolute surety on his voice was fare more comforting than she wanted to admit. In fact, everything about him - from the calm, collected tone of his voice to his crisp, clean actions more than suggested that he was a competent man of action. A true leader, someone she wanted to follow anywhere. And she would - she would follow him wherever this road lead them.

She couldn't stop staring at him as he continued tapping at the device on his wrist. "What is that?"

"Dive computer. For depth measurements, dive tables, ascent rate. This won't be a typical dive."

She gulped. "I've never scuba dived before."

"Fortunately for you, I've been certified for fifteen years. Your first dive couldn't be with anyone better." He flashed a lightning smile that didn't reach the focused set of his eyes. "But come on - fins, mask. We should be ramming the Dutchman any minute."

Her heartrate sped up as she stepped towards him, reaching down for a mask. She pulled it down over head, letting it rest around her neck before reaching for a pair of fins. "Shoes off?"

"Probably best to keep them on to start." He said, pulling a mask down over his own head. "Less likely to get blisters. But if they cause you a problem, you can take them off once we're under."

She jammed the toe of her shoe into the fin, throwing the buckle around the back of her heel as she stepped into the other. The second buckle was harder to secure, but she looked up just in time to see him secure his last buckle.

"And now, along the wall." He motioned alongside him as they pressed against the hull plating. "Hold fast - the impact will throw us."

She nodded hurriedly, gripping tight to the steel structure, doing her best to pitch her weight and brace with her finned feet. The engines were at a fever pitch now and it shouldn't be much longer. It really shouldn't. She exhaled a deep sigh, her head falling forward to rest against his upper arm. God, who knew such simple contact could be so comforting.

Their whole world lurched forward as the ship screamed. Tremors rocked through the metal in all directions, the sound a deafening roar as every sense overloaded on impact. Her hold broke loose and she tumbled down to the deck, regaining her bearings to find herself staring up at the ceiling. The wail of the engines steadily grew less as the aftermath of the collision and explosion seeped into the ship's very core.

"James?" She could barely hear her own voice as she sat up on the cold floor, her vision spinning.

"Cutlena, come on." His hands fell to her shoulder and she could just register a streak of blood running down the side of his face. "We need to be ready."

With shaky legs, she rose to her feet, gasping when she focused on the gash that cut the side of his head. "What happen - are you alright?"

"I'm alright. The salt water will sting like hell, though."

"I'm - I'm so sorry."

"We can be sorry later. Come on, mask up - but spit in it first and rub it around."

"Spit in it?" Had she heard him right?

"Don't question - just do it."

She exhaled deeply, trying to quell the pounding in the back of her head just enough to focus. Taking her mask in hand, she grimaced for the briefest second before spitting on the mask lens and spreading it around with her fingers. Her footing faltered as the ship lurched, suddenly pitching down a steep angle. Oh god, this was it.

"Over here, come on." He urged and she looked up to see him waiting with a waiting regulator and tank. She flopped over in her fins, looking up at him with wide anxious eyes. "Just like you practiced."

"This is nothing like trying it in your cabin."

"You'll do great." He closed the small distance between them, pressing a brief kiss to her forehead. She took the regulator from him, holding it tight and giving it a gentle, reassuring shake as she nodded her head. "And now for the weight." His arms encircled her middle as the ship gave another lurch, the time listing sharply towards the starboard. The collection of oxygen tanks clattered as they skittered into the hull.

The force of the weight belt on her hips made her stagger as he drew back and she found herself barely able to stand. And she didn't even have a tank on her back yet. Was this why divers always sat on the edge of the boat and just fell over backwards?

Another groan emanated from the ship as the pitch started to flatten out and the listing increased, more than threatening her already precarious balance.

"What's happening?"

"We're sinking." How did he still manage to sound so dry and composed? She felt just one breath away from screaming. "Seems like we're rolling to starboard, which we can work with. But you'll have to keep close once the hatch it open. If the ship is rolling over on top of our exit, then we have to get out from under it quick before it drag us down too deep."

"Oh, god."

"You don't need to worry. But you should focus on trying to keep your breathing level once we're under. You'll burn up a tank much quicker if you're all worked up."

She barked a sharp laugh. "If I'm all worked up? And please, Mr. Calm-and-Collected - just how am I supposed to not be worked up right now."

"Do you trust me?" The earnestness in his bright green eyes was overwhelming.

She didn't even have to think about her answer. "Yes."

"Then, trust me to do the worrying and see us both out of here. This isn't my first sinking ship. And I have had training for these scenarios." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Now that we generally know how the ship is sinking, we'll know better which way to go once the pressure equalizes. Alright?"

She took a deep breath, nodding, surprised to find that she was already generally calmer.

"Alright." She breathed again. "Alright."

"Alright. We'll get through this."

That's when the water started to trickle in. And rather quite fast, too.

She gulped hard as it pooled around her feet on the slanting floor, the warm wet seeping in through her shoes. If he noticed at all, he gave no indication as he calmly tended to his own mask, securing weight and checking his regulator.

The collection of strapped-together oxygen tanks hovered with the rising water, but never really floated at the surface. What had he said? That they were neutrally balanced? Did that…were they gong to be submerged for so long as to require multiple oxygen tanks?

The knot in her stomach tightened, a sense of claustrophobia tightening around her as the water reached her waist. She exhaled deeply, glancing back at him, trying to draw any measure of comfort.

He pushed his mask up to his forehead. "Alright, here we go. It seems the ship's stopped rolling for now, but she'll be unstable as the water continues to rise. We'll just take it nice and slow once the pressure equalizes."

"Sure, alright. OK."

"Alright." He flashed a reassuring smile. "Mask and regulator now."

Her hands moved, detached from the voice in her head that screamed this was suicidal. She slid the mask into place and clenched the regulator between her teeth. Blood pounded in her ears as the water rose around her chest, and she knew she was doing fuck all to control her breathing. The collection of tanks at his feet looked large enough that she could afford to burn up one from sheer nerves.

Her finned feet started to lift off the floor, floating in suspended animation as her arms started to feebly tread water. It was indeed a weird sensation not to really float or sink. She looked over at him, feeling the warm water reach her neck, watching him nod under his mask and regulator.

And then the water reached her chin and mouth. Passing her nose and up over her eyes. The top of her head.

It was….oddly peaceful. Just floating in the submerged cargo hold. It was relatively quiet, too. No sounds of rushing water, just her own breathing and the bubbles of her exhales. He looked about the same – suspended in the rising waters, fins swishing in the water as he held the tethered oxygen tanks at his side.

Now what? Best to wait for his signal. He'd showed her a variety of hand signals that she would see him use once underwater. That same night he'd also introduced her to wearing a regulator and she'd divulged her weight so he could properly outfit a weight belt. They'd sealed their plan with a tender, comforting round in his bunk, pressed together tight and savoring each touch. She didn't dare to call it love making, but only because. Well.

He glanced at the dive computer, raising his other hand to point towards the hatch. He started to swim over, and she turned, following. The hatch gave easily under his hands, admitting the deep blue beyond. He moved aside, pulling her down to fit out through the hatch door. She swam through, instantly missing his touch when he hand fell away and she could see noting but the vast expanse of ocean outside the ship.

He moved through the hatch behind her in a rush of escaping bubbles, dragging the oxygen tanks behind him, guiding her forward and up around the ship as she slowly continued to sink into the depths.

And so it went. The ship slid away from the world and they had front row seats. But they could also see the Dutchman sinking to her death, too. She couldn't tell if people were in the water or not - probably – but Groves could see to their rescue.

James had told her that the Icarus would release air bubbles long after she slipped from the surface and would provide good cover for their own exhale bubbles. There wasn't any reason for Groves to suspect that they survived, so no one was likely to look. Especially not underwater.

When oxygen tanks ran low, he switched them out, connecting and disconnecting tethers. He kept a watchful eye on the dive computer and every so often, they'd adjust up in their depth or a horizontal position. Presumably they were moving closer to the nearest shore? Her sense of direction was worthless surrounded by so much blue.

And once the ships disappeared out of sight, there was an almost eerie stillness. She couldn't make out any surface ships and no submarines emerged out of the shadows. A few schools of fish curled around them curiously from time to time, but ultimately found them of no interest.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

But when they finally broke the surface and she spit out the regulator, the rush of satisfaction was overwhelming. Thank god, the shore was in easy striking distance.

Lethargy from release of the adrenaline high ate at her limbs as she staggered towards the shore alongside James in the dying daylight. He looked just as waterlogged and exhausted as she felt. They shed the fins, weight belts and gear in the waist-high water before trudging up to the sand. To the free air. To their new life.

She sighed, glancing around, pleased to notice the deserted spot. She just needed to rest, just for a minute. Her muscles were more than happy to ease her down to the sand, sitting for just a second before laying back and stretching out. God, what heavenly relief.

They had done it. They had fucking done it! It had sounded absolutely mental when she voiced the idea in James' bed, and even more mental when standing in the cargo hold of the sinking ship. But it had worked. By God, it had worked.

She lifted a brow as she watched him settle beside her, exhaling deep as he relaxed against the sand.

A tired, rumbling chuckle sounded. "I can't believe that actually worked."

She matched his soft chortle. "Well, I have to hand it to you – all your training paid off."

He chuckled again, slowly shaking his head. "I've never trained for anything like that in my life."

"What?!" Her eyes widened, her head jerking up from the sand. "You're saying that you lied to me? I trusted you!"

"And it worked…here we are. And without decompression sickness, too."

"What is that?"

"You don't want to know."

She forced a hard swallow, dropping her head back to the sand. "Well, I'm glad that you told me now and not back on the ship."

"That's exactly why I didn't. I've had scuba survival training, and I wasn't onboard the Dauntless for long when she sank. But this was…this was something new."

A laugh bubbled out of her, a release of the nerves and tension. Her eyes drifted closed as they lay there, just breathing, just being. Just processing that they had actually survived.

He hummed, deep and low in his throat. "I could sleep right here."

"Mmm, same here." She shifted in the sand, scooting over closer to press up against his side. His arm came around her as she pillowed her head on his shoulder. She could just hear the steady beat of his heart, comforting and very much alive as she soaked in the close press of his body.

Perhaps a short nap was indeed in order.

The rest could wait a bit longer.

The first time a piece of uninvited intel simply signed 'Marlin' crossed Commodore Groves' desk, he trashed it. Uninvited intel usually led to a wild goose chase while a real crime took place someplace else. Service under Norrington had taught him as much.

But by the by the eighth time that signature stared up at him, he took the bait. And good lord, what a payout. The intel had been dead on, exactly as reported. Down to the eerie last detail. It almost made Groves wonder if he had arrested Marlin in that unearthed pirate's den that day. The details were just far too accurate.

No one else looked past the nearly 500,000 pounds of net worth that was recovered from the den. But Groves couldn't help but wonder.

Until the next intel from Marlin arrived. Could the man really be so lucky twice in a row?

Eighteen arrests, 120,000 pounds of recovered net worth, and a solid lead to something called the Pirate Court later, Groves could scarcely believe it.

In as many months since the sinking of the Icarus and the Dutchman , the navy had scored two major victories against the piratical threat. It almost made the losses of Norrington and Beckett worth it.

Almost.

It still soured his stomach, though. Late at night especially, when he shed his commodore rank and simply existed as Theodore. By God, he still didn't see the need for them to sacrifice themselves as they had. The Dutchman was just one ship and Jones was just one man out of countless who needed to be brought to justice.

If there was one good outcome from that harrowing day, it was the successful arrest of the surviving crew. Attempts to turn Jones' men against his own ilk had largely proved unsuccessful, and Groves had struggled to gain any real foothold.

Until Marlin entered his life.

He slammed the rest of his second scotch, flipped off the light, and fell into bed.

If there was one thing about his loose association with Marlin, he wished that the man could be more regular with his information. Sometimes notes came in only one month apart, other times, three months would elapse.

But after the fifth successful series of arrests – this time including two members of the Pirate Court – he received an altogether different note.

You're welcome, Commodore Groves.

Fryes Tiki Bar, Antigua. February 23, noon. Come alone and no uniform, or I won't find you and I'll stop helping you.

-Marlin

It was risky. It was stupid. But God help him, he took leave and made his way to Antigua.

The days on the beach were certainly quiet, surfing to his heart's content. It was nice to shed the uniform and his duties for a few days. But it was far from relaxing. Was Marlin already here, scoping him out? Stalking his movements?

A gun was too obvious, so he carried a knife. And he knew how to use it.

Noon on February 23rd brought a clear, sunny sky to the open air patio of Fryes Tiki Bar. Dressed in a fitted cotton polo shirt, shorts and flipflops with his tanned skin and sea breeze tousled hair, he certainly didn't look like the Caribbean Royal Navy commodore. Especially not with the skull and crossed swords tattoo on display for all to see. But the accuracy of Marlin's information spoke to a familiarity with pirates, so any comment or reaction to it would be a good gauge of the man. He sipped at his drink and waited.

"Why, Commodore Groves. It's good to see you."

He choked at the voice from his past. The voice that should be nothing more than a ghost. He spun in his chair, staring up in disbelief at the familiar set of brown eyes. Her hair was longer than he'd ever seen it and her bangs were cut blunt. But he undoubtedly recognized her. "Cutlena Beckett. My god."

"Hi, Theodore."

"Holy shit…I can't – you're -." That's when he noticed the other man approaching – the imposing height, the sharp green eyes, the mussed bedhead streaked with more gray.

A teasing smirk quirked James Norrington's mouth. "I always thought you were more smooth-tongued than this, Theodore."

He shook his head, unable to hold back a wide smile. "You utter bastard. Son of a bitch. The pair of you." A laugh of disbelief sounded in his throat as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Christ, this is too much. I thought you–."

"You thought what we wanted you to think." Her hand fell to his shoulder with a squeeze as she moved around him to take a seat.

James crossed the other side of him, taking a chair. "Wouldn't have been effective if you knew that we hadn't actually died."

Theodore looked between them, still stunned. "But how? I…you were on the ship when the explosion and as she went down." His mind spun, trying to work through the possible angles of survival underwater. Wait. He leveled James with a hard look. "Son of a bitch, the emergency scuba gear? Really?"

James shrugged idly. "It worked."

"I amend my former statement – you crazy bastards. It's one thing to use scuba gear, it's another to risk going down with a sinking ship."

Cutlena groaned. "Please don't remind me."

Theodore reached for his drink, taking a long pull, still reeling from the revelation as the waiter approached and took the additional drink orders. He looked between his friends who had been dead up till five minutes ago. The implications were staggering. "But why," he asked after the waiter departed, "why throw your lives away? There's so much more we could have done."

"Oh, I don't know about that," James speculated, "Marlin seems to be doing an admirable job assisting the navy. And you're racking up quite the service record – so many arrests, so much wealth restored to the Crown."

"I hardly think you did this for my benefit, sir." The 'sir' slipped out on habit. There was nothing in James' appearance now that ever suggested the man had been the most feared pirate hunter in the Caribbean. From the messy tousle of his hair, to the stubble on his cheeks, and his reclined, loose posture in his chair. If not for the voice and eyes, Theodore would be hard pressed to believe him the same man.

Cutlena leaned her elbows onto the table. "No, it wasn't for your benefit, though it has certainly worked out that way. After the Pearl attacked and the bridge exploded – there were few options left to James and myself. He would have been dismissed outright with nothing to show from our months at sea except a crippled vessel, a few mid-profile arrests, and eight dead sailors. And, well, with the commodore's removal would have come swift retribution to my own position – I told you that I failed, and I did. So James and I are working to turn that around."

"Running away from your failure?" He turned to James, cocking a brow. "I can see a captain going nobly down with his ship to redeem himself in the face of such loss. But you, Cutlena? That doesn't sound like you."

She huffed a soft laugh. "No, it doesn't. It's almost a wonder people really believe that I'm dead."

He matched her soft laugh. "Well, clearly, you haven't let death stop you so far."

"Nor do I intend it to."

Theodore watched her gaze drift over to James, the look on her face softening with affection. It shouldn't surprise him, but it did. He knew that she was interested in him – but that James actually returned her interest? When had that happened? Especially since she'd only been sent to the Caribbean to destroy his career.

Oddly enough, though, they both looked happy, despite the situation. Even Cutlena's trademark severe style had almost disappeared, her long hair catching in the breeze as the conversation continued to flow. God, how he had missed them both.

James' eye caught on his arm. "What the hell is that? You're a disgrace to the rank, sailor."

He shrugged unconcerned, matching the man's tease. "Not like there were standards to live up to."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." James shook his head. "I knew you were careful to keep your arms covered after your time in Spain but I never imagined."

A mischievous light brightened his smile. That trip to Spain as a midshipman had indeed been one for the record books. The senoritas. The free flowing gin, on top of vermouth hour. The incarceration mixup where he picked up his first guitar. The nights he spent trying to forget how the firelight caught in Cutlena's eyes, how she moaned so prettily for him.

Her snide chuckle brought him back. "If you could see your face...must have been some trip."

He looked to her, meeting her gaze, her small smile. "Yeah, it was."

James scoffed but his smirk was fond. "God help us with a degenerate like you at the helm."

"Degenerate like me?" His brows raised in feigned surprise. "What about you two renegades? God only knows what you've had to do to get such accurate intel."

Cutlena shrugged, unconcerned. "There was a mutiny that one time. Some poison after that. Jay had a sword fight a while back."

Poison? Sword fight? Jay? Theodore's eyebrows climbed higher as he huffed an incredulous breath. "Stop please, for chrissake. Don't make me have to arrest you now."

James quirked a challenging brow. "I'd like to see you try."

Theodore quirked his own challenging brow. "I could probably even afford to give you one day's head start."

"Good," Cutlena interrupted, glancing between the two of them. "We need to get back to Bardua. I've got a date at the Frigate Bird Sanctuary."

Theodore laughed softly, not even wanting to know. He could only hope that no one else arrested them. Their intel was just too good to lose. And, strangely enough, he couldn't deny that it was reassuring. Knowing that they were out there, in this. Together.

James and Cutlena. Out to infiltrate and rid the world of piracy. With James' steadfast perseverance and Cutlena's laser-focused determination…what couldn't they do?

He had to agree with James.

God help them all.

FIN

Thank you to those who made it this far! I hope you enjoyed, and best wishes for safe travels in 2019! Happy trails!