A Line In The Sand
Chapter Two

Victoria ran away the night after Jack Sparrow's thwarted hanging, bribing a young cabin boy off the ship and taking his place and his name, Edward Smith.

James was busy and so was she, between her duties and her mounting anxiety about his behaviour. When they had set out, it had been with a great sense of camaraderie between the men; sure they would catch Sparrow and see him hanged. Several times she had had to stop herself going up to James and chatting to him in the old way they used to when they came across each other in Port Royal.

But the days passed and melted into weeks and cool, calm Commodore Norrington began – though Victoria could scarcely believe it – to lose his head. There was no more certainty about catching Jack Sparrow. James's single-mindedness brought a heightened tension to the ship, desperation to catch Sparrow that went above and beyond the need to catch any other pirate.

They had been at sea a month when the wind changed. Victoria was on deck and felt a shudder down her spine and no more than an hour later, Lieutenant Groves hurried over.

"Commodore Norrington, it's a hurricane. Unmistakable, sir."

She watched James through the fringe tumbled over her eyes and saw the momentary struggle. Part of her knew he would turn back; he would abandon this wild goose chase and return to Port Royal to await another chance to catch Sparrow. They would all be home safe and sound and her guilt over her betrayal of him could be forgotten.

But something in his eyes caused her heart to beat hard. And she knew, the instant before he said it, what he would say.

"Then we will sail through it, Lieutenant, as Sparrow undoubtedly will."

She never knew James had recognised her until the night of the hurricane. The crew had abandoned ship at his command and he was lurching across the deck, checking that everyone was gone. She was clinging to the wheel, throwing her weight against it in an attempt to turn the ship to starboard. She was certain if she could just turn the ship, they might be all right.

"Victoria!"

She looked up, startled by the use of her real name, and he was running towards her. His arms closed round her waist and when they were washed overboard, they remained locked around her, pulling her upwards. He didn't let go of her until they were safely aboard a ship bound for Tortuga.

He held her hand often in Tortuga. Not out of affection, he did it because they quickly discovered they were a good team and she would grab hold of his hand to steady herself as she launched kicks and he would tighten his grip on her and jerk her out of harm's way.

They were always thrown out and on the nights when he was too drunk to yell at the closing doors of the pub he would sink down at her side and fall asleep with his head in her lap, her fingers sliding gently through his hair. Other nights she would support him up the main street as they staggered back to the laundry woman, who had pitied the young lass dressed as a boy and the shattered man and taken them in.

He tried to kiss her once. They were sitting on the worn stone step of an alehouse, having been chucked out, but thankfully not thrown to the pigs. She was using the tips of her fingers to scrub dirt out of his beard and suddenly he reached up to tuck a long curl of her hair back up inside her hat. He had done it before, tucking her hair away before anyone else could notice, but this time, his hand lingered, twisting the lock between his fingers. Her cheeks burned as she tried to remember the last time she had washed her hair properly. Then his knuckles drifted across her cheek.

"I wonder how anyone could believe you to be a boy. You are so pretty."

"I am the image of my brother, sir. As you well know," she replied tartly, but she froze as he leaned in.

The night was cool and he was so warm she could feel it pulsing off him in waves. His breath smelt of sweet rum and it would have been so easy to let him kiss her. But when she looked at his eyes, they were distant and hazy. He was drunk and for all she knew, he could have been thinking of Elizabeth.

"No, James," she said gently, one hand on his shoulder to prevent him coming any closer. "That way lays disaster."

He frowned a little then, his head bobbing until he came to rest on her shoulder. She eased her arm round him and only a moment later he was snoring.

He never mentioned it. She was sure he didn't remember.

Victoria was not happy the day the Black Pearl came to Tortuga, even less happy when James approached Gibbs's desk. But soon they were fighting again and she was good at that, having picked up all her brother's skills in their years of sparring.

The boy who broke a bottle over James's head was oddly familiar and when he went to help James out of the pig muck; Victoria felt her stomach lurch with a familiar seething envy and admiration.

"Where's my brother?" she asked. "I thought you were meant to be marrying him?"

"We were interrupted," Elizabeth grunted, hauling James to his feet.

He seemed quite happy to lean on Elizabeth and Victoria was forced to trail behind, until Elizabeth slipped away from James's side to sashay up to Jack Sparrow.

It took Will a moment to realise that Elizabeth was not the only woman on Isla Cruces.

"Victoria!" he exclaimed as she catapulted into his arms.

James watched for a moment as Will swung his sister around. Victoria had not been wrong in her comment about being the very image of her brother. She had the same dark curling hair, though considerably longer, a similarly tall and slender build. When she was dressed up like a boy, the only difference between them was her lack of a beard and her pale blue eyes.

"You went with Norrington. I knew it. I heard there was a hurricane," Will said. "I thought you had died."

"Norrington saved me," she replied. "We've been in Tortuga for three months. Jack came looking for a crew and here we are."

Will looked up and scowled at Norrington, but his sister's elbow sank sharply into his ribs and he nodded, attempting a strangled sort of smile.

"Norrington."

"Turner," James replied shortly.

"I've met our father," Will said excitedly, merrily turning his attention away from Norrington.

"Our father?"

"Yes. He's aboard the Flying Dutchman. I'm going to save him, Vicky."

"But… Mama said he was dead?" she stepped back slightly from Will, shaking her head and frowning.

"No. But he's trapped," Will let her go and sank to his knees in front of the chest. "I'm going to kill Jones."

"Can't let you do that, William," Jack said, drawing his sword. "Because if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?"

Will stood up, snatched Elizabeth's sword from her and pointed it at Jack.

"I keep the promises I make, Jack. And I mean to free my father. I hope you're here to see it."

Victoria wasn't at all surprised and merely resigned herself to some ill-timed entertainment and wondered vaguely how long it would take before they reached some sort of truce and went back to the Pearl.

But then she heard the unmistakable sound of another sword being unsheathed and saw this one come up to point at Will.

"I can't let you do that either. Sorry."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," Jack, still aiming his sword at Will, grinned at Norrington.

"James!" Victoria said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it – I get my life back."

"Ah, the dark side of ambition."

"I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."

And before Victoria could voice another objection, she and Elizabeth were left to tail the men who were racing away from them, bashing away at each other. She left Elizabeth to her indignant screeching, knowing her brother and James at least to be evenly matched and Jack too much of a pirate to get hurt by either of them.

She went after Pintel and Ragetti along with Elizabeth, though they only had a sword between them. Then, as they faced Jones's crew, tossing swords to each other every few seconds, she wondered how on earth she had got to this point, and muttered darkly, "Bloody pirates."

Victoria screamed when James took the chest.

"Don't wait for me," he said it to Elizabeth, but his eyes darted to Victoria. She thought he looked sorry, but she couldn't be sure because, despite looking at her, he couldn't meet her eyes properly.

Jack grabbed hold of her when she leapt forward, screaming his name. He shoved her hard into the boat, so hard she hit her head and lay dazed for a moment at her unconscious brother's side. When she felt the boat bob, she sat up and stared at the island. She felt hollow, but the blood thumped in her veins and roared in her ears.

"You left him," she said to Jack. "You should have left me too."

"Well, love, since you're pretty nifty with a sword and haven't pointed it at me recently, I'd like to keep you on my side."

Losing James felt like a scream inside her and it didn't stop until Jack's jar of dirt smashed on the deck of the Black Pearl and he knelt in the mess of it, sifting the dirt through his fingers. Her hair fluttered across her face and she turned cold as she realised that the only person who could have taken what Jack had so obviously lost was James Norrington. Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword and her ideal of James smashed into more pieces than Jack's jar of dirt.