Author's note: As you might have noticed the end of this little story is drawing near. Still...let me know what you're thinking about this? I hope you've liked it so far and I didn't go to dark a place...

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He stepped out on the corridor, behind him the noise of the sword fight – the brachial sounds of blades clashing with each other mingled with the insults the opponents were shouting at each other, but he couldn't wait to see how it would all turn out. He had to go, because time was slowly running out.

Norrington held the bag pressed to his body like one would hold a newborn infant. He was very careful not to let it fall nor let any other damage get to it. The fact that nobody had stepped into his way up until now, managed to astonish him immensely. This was almost running too smoothly. He stole preoccupied glances at his treasured prey and continued his way as fast as he possibly could.

When he reached the main hall the reason why the guards hadn't rushed to Beckett's defence was quickly found. The mansion currently bore a suspicious resemblance to a war zone. From his position on the top of the stairs he could oversee the scenery well enough to quickly assess the situation. At least half a dozen navy officers were trying to fight back a crowd of unwashed, ruff-looking individuals – pirates, who were holding the upper hand in the fight. The soldiers were attacking with a certain inexperienced naivety that afforded their opponents a substantial advantage who were not afraid to use all the dirty tricks the hard school of life had taught them.

As his eyes quickly roamed over the scenery to find the best route of escape he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. It was Elizabeth Swann. She was clothed like a simple peasant in a pair of brown trousers and a plain shirt, very much like the last time he had seen her. The young woman was fiercely engaged into a fight with a soldier, wielding two swords at a time. If she was here Turner couldn't be far. They were like the plague and famine. They always appeared together. Though he couldn't see Turner anywhere nearby he was sure he was somewhere down there. He quirked his eyebrows in astonishment, when he recognized the man fighting at her side – Captain Victor Barbossa. He had believed him dead. Apparently all pirates made a habit out of not obeying even the simple rules of life and death.

He decided to waste no more time on standing around and gaping uselessly, so he turned to go, but was stopped short, when he felt the cool metal of a blade pressing against his throat. He recognized the voice immediately, "Not so fast! I believe you have something of ours."

Norrington rose his hands in defeat and slowly turned around, but made no notions of handing the heart over to Turner. The pressure of the sword against his skin increased impatiently, "Didn't you hear me? I want the heart! Now!"

Turner's face bore clear signs of deep agitation. His eyes were nervously wandering here and there and sweat was glistening on his forehead, he suspected did not stem from the exertion of the fight, since the young man was a skilled sword fighter. The tip of the blade trembled slightly.

Norrington knew why the other man wanted the heart so badly. Turner needed it to save his father – a honourable reason, which he could understand well, but nevertheless he wasn't ready to give into his demands. If he did, it would undoubtedly mean Josephine's end, since he would not be able to hold up his end of the bargain with Davy Jones. Though the heart now gave him control over Davy Jones, the rest of the crew of the Flying Dutchman, was unfortunately free to do as they pleased and if he didn't return soon they would murder her.

"I've heard you the first time," he said finally. The exhaustion had managed to seep into his voice. It sounded forced, not like he remembered it. "But however much I understand the reasons behind your request, I can't grant it."

"If I have to kill you to get the heart, I'll do it," William almost screamed in barely contained rage. His entire body language was aggressive, every muscle tense. He was like a strained bow that was about to be fired. James had no doubt that his threat was to be taken quite seriously.

"Don't you understand, Turner?" he tried again, now applying all his persuasive powers "I'm not trying to keep the heart for myself. I have no interest in its power…"

"Just why does that strike me as a lie? Didn't you steal it to come here and have your honour restored?"

"I came here with other intention than I left with," Norrington responded unwilling to reveal an explanation that ventured any further in matters that were his own private concern. He may have made his peace with Jack Sparrow, but his dislike for Turner sat very deep.

Turner nodded slowly and indicated James's sword with a nudge of his head, "Draw, so we can settle this once and for all."

His hand briefly twitched in the direction of the hilt of his sword, but stopped in mid-air. He could not afford to lose anymore precious time. His arms dropped laxly at his side and his adversary looked at him astonished about this unexpected gesture. "Look, Turner, I don't assume we can settle this in a matter of a few minutes. We're quite evenly matched in the area of swordsmanship and I don't plan to engage in an epic battle with you. I'm running out of time!"

"And you expect me to simply step aside and let you pass?! After all that happened? Why?" William asked incredulously.

"As I said. I'm not doing this for me… God damn it!" exasperation finally got the better of him, mainly because the tip of the sword was still hovering in front of his throat and he was now forced to reveal something profoundly private about himself, that he wasn't ready to share with just anybody, in particular not with William Turner. "It's for a woman! You of all should understand best," he angrily pushed the blade aside with his bare hand.

"I don't believe a single word your saying. I'm not anybody's fool anymore. You've already betrayed our trust once and I'm supposed to believe you now? I don't think so! The choice is quite simple: draw or die!" William's face was stony, his body straightened as he assumed his fighting stance.

Norrington had still to make a move. While his face was impassive, the emotional state he was in, was tempestuous at best, which did not allow him to form any coherent thoughts. The idea that this was the just punishment for his deeds struck him, even through a haze of panic and despair. He was not afraid of the fight nor afraid of losing. His life and death didn't matter if he only could save Josephine's.

What had brought him into this situation was pride and the unhealthy excrescences of a bruised ego. He then realized that fighting Turner would not be an act of bravery, it would just be another error in an long succession of errors. If he engaged into a fight with him, he would do it, because he disliked the other man, because the idea of defeating him tempted him, because he wanted to proof once again that he was better than him.

William watched with satisfaction as Norrington's hand reached for his weapon, it closed slowly around the hilt of the sword, he drew, then stretched out his arm and let the blade fall to the floor. Turner would not kill an unarmed man. It was not in his nature.

"I will not fight you," his voice was resigned and calm. "It's true, you do have no reason to trust me. That we dislike each other is no secret," Norrington smiled. This was gallows humour if nothing else. The irony of the situation was not lost to him "But this really is important to me, this means more than my pride, my honour, my reputation….So what does it take to convince you that I'm telling the truth? Do you have to see me bleed? Do we have to fight till death to see whose more skilled with the blade – who wants this more?" James's gaze landed on the bag he still held clutched to his body as if his life depended on it – not his life, but somebody else's. "What does it take, Turner? Do you want me to beg……I'll do it if it is necessary to convince you," his voice was low and the strength it cost him to utter those words that were so deeply against his nature was clearly visible on his face.

At that William slowly lowered his weapon. He could tell his vis-à-vis was telling the truth, still Norrington's strange behaviour puzzled him and left him without a clue as what to do next.

"I'll offer you a deal," Norrington's said finally, not giving the younger man anymore time to ponder this situation, "if I'm lying we can still settle this with our blades….but first I need you to come with me. I have to reach the Flying Dutchman in time to give Davy Jones the heart so he will refrain from killing Josephine. What you do or don't do afterwards is of little consequence to me, but if it encourages your trust I'll offer my assistance….You have my word."

The implication of Norrington's offer were not lost to William. Considering from where it came from it was a grand gesture. At the mention of the name Josephine a lot of confusing puzzle pieces finally fell together. This finally explained her strange behaviour. The self-loathing visible on her face, when she had kidnapped Jack, her apologetic words before she left through the portal. His next thoughts he spoke out loud, "You and Josephine? Why'd she do all this?"

"Because she wanted to save me. It turned out that bargaining with Cutler is a lot like striking a deal with the devil. He tricked me, threatened to kill her. We had no other choice," Norrington explained hurriedly, as he nervously looked around. He was getting impatient. "I can't wait any longer….Are you in this or do you need an extra invitation?" his last words sounded a little harsher than he had intended. It was hard jumping his own shadow.

"Wait…just one more thing, before we go."

"What?" Norrington asked exasperatedly.

"What about Jack?" William finally asked.

James sighed and rolled his eyes. It was always about that blasted pirate.