Please read chapter one for disclaimers. A belated Christmas gift to all my readers, who put up with my long absence and lack of updates. Sorry for the shortness of this update, but I'm working as best I can!
The storm rose about them, whipping the sea spray like needles into their faces. Norrington had seen the gale coming, and had prepared the ship for the worst. Yet it seemed, as Fletcher swore, the wind was blowing them back the way they had come. Captain Norrington was determined to at least hold what waters he had already come through, if he could not best the wind.
Catherine had been commanded to stay in the captain's cabin and keep herself as warm as possible. Norrington went to her after seeing to the helm for a time. Blown in with the wind, drenched, miserably cold and frustrated. The wind was pushing them backward, whether he liked it or not. Catherine looked up at him from her position on the floor, equally miserable.
"Are you well, Cate?" he asked, employing the friendly nickname they had wordlessly agreed upon. "You look positively green."
"I ain't used to sailin' in a storm, Captain," she replied weakly.
"You mean to say The Saint never came upon a storm at sea?" Norrington asked incredulously.
"Flynn kept to the islands and made sure to port when there was talk of stormy waters," Catherine said.
"He was more coward then I had thought," Norrington murmured disdainfully, sitting near her. She looked up at him with an almost apologetic smile.
"Any luck out there?"
"None of the sort," Norrington sighed. There was a pause. "It will take us longer, I think, to reach Brighton."
"Mebbe I shoulda been better with me fear o' the Almighty," Catherine said quietly. "Me prayin' might do some good."
"It's just as well," James chuckled. "I haven't been God fearing lately either."
There was a silence between them in which Norrington closed his eyes and listened to the creaking of his ship. Catherine watched him, comfortable with the friendly quiet they shared. Much of his hair had been blown out of the queue and hung about his face, slightly curling as the water dripped from it. Rivulets of water ran from his forehead down his long nose and dripped from the end. He pursed his lips and covered his face with both hands, wiping the water away and brushing back his unruly hair unsuccessfully.
"James," Cate murmured quietly. Norrington opened his eyes and turned toward her, smiling wearily. Catherine looked at his green eyes. There was a sadness about him that made her want to cry for his sake. As if his whole life, he had been defeated. Yet there was also a calm strength in them; as if those defeats didn't matter. As if he was still searching for something, and he would weather whatever storm would come his way. Cate suddenly remembered her question.
"How long ha' ye been a seaman?"
James chuckled again and closed his eyes, hiding his green irises momentarily. "A very long time," he replied. "But I still remember the day I first boarded a ship. I had always wanted to be lost in the beauty of the sea. I wanted adventure, honors, recognition for being a hero."
James turned to her again, and Catherine saw again the great defeat in his eyes. "The sea gave me everything. And then she took it all away. I hope for your sake, Catherine, that you find everything that you are looking for. And that you keep what you are given."
Norrington's hand had sought hers while he spoke. When he fell silent, his large, calloused, wet hand squeezed hers almost affectionately. Cate was at a loss for words and could only return his gaze. Finally, Norrington sighed.
"I should go back to the helm," he said, standing. Catherine looked at her damp hand and then at the watermark he had left before watching him leave. She could only see his back, his broad shoulders squared, his head lifted and ready to face the storm he was about to walk into.
Cate couldn't help but admire this man who had seen so much in life, who had gained everything she sought. Fortune, a good standing in society, powerful friends. And all of it had been taken away, he had said. Catherine shivered, but recognized a small desire to be like him. To be strong, persistent, unyielding and yes, stubborn. Catie allowed herself a small smile as James Norrington closed the door behind him. That was one trait they perhaps shared.