I don't know if anyone is still interested in this, but if you are I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. I suck, I'm aware of this, but life happens, what can I say. Anyhow, I'm back and will hopefully keep this thing going for a while. Happy reading.

The red Mediterranean sun followed the pale, mysterious moon as time passed on our little island. My charge grew stronger. Each day he would eat a little more, would sit a little longer and would ask me a few more questions about my life and my home. He did not speak much, but rather listened as I told him of my limited past. Each night he fell asleep to my stories. James Norrington gathered strength, listened and watched.

There was such depth, such sadness and mystery in his clear green eyes. They had a certain magic about them. I could feel them opening when he awoke, could feel them follow me about the cave. His eyes spoke to me. They told me a story of the man, a story of ambition and regret. I did not ask him to tell me this story himself. I knew that if he wanted me to know more than his eyes gave me he would speak. In the meantime, I monopolized the conversation as I continued to nurse the sailor back to health.

After about two weeks, he was well enough to move a little on his own. I would help pull him to his feet and we would shuffle around the room until he collapsed, exhausted, onto the bed. After a few days, he could walk for a small amount of time without completely depleting his strength. I would help him around the room, then instead of returning to bed he would sit in my chair and watch me prepare dinner or hold mother's yarn while she mended socks and blankets. One afternoon he asked to go outside.

"I need the sea, Cora," he said as I rearranged the pillows under his head. "Will you take me to the sea?" I smiled.

"Of course I will, though I think the sun may do you greater good. Mother has been worrying about how pale you still are, which I don't completely understand." He stared up at me, his eyebrows knit in puzzlement.

"And why is that?" I shrugged.

"Well, it's just that you seem to have a nice glow when you're awake. Your cheeks flush, though I suppose that could be some remnant of the fever." He nodded slowly.

"Yes, I'm sure that's what it is. I wasn't aware I became flushed…" He became quiet again. I left him to his contemplation and gathered up a pair of Robert's shoes and placed a blanket, a small bowl and a clean cloth into a basket. I sat my things on the table and pulled two chairs to the entrance of the cave. I returned, filled the bowl from the fresh water supply and gathered everything into my arms. "What are you doing?" I glanced over at my patient.

"You said you wanted to go outside, I'm getting things ready."

"Oh." I took the basket out, then the chairs. When I came back I helped pull Norrington to a sitting position and placed Robert's shoes on his feet.

"I'm afraid these are a little tight, does it bother you?" I looked up at him where he sat, watching me as ever.

"No, I didn't even notice."

"Good. Alright then, up we go…" Once standing, we began the short journey to the outside world. He only had to stop twice to catch his breath. After a few minutes, we were standing in the entrance of the outer cave facing a red sun casting its light over a golden sea. He sighed and closed his eyes. I watched his face relax as the salty wind blew gently through his hair and the evening sun kissed his cheeks. As he leaned into me I swear I could feel strength begin to seep into his weakened frame. I watched his closed eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his lips as a semblance of peace came over his features. He opened his eyes, looked down at me and smiled.

"Thank you." I grinned back at him.

"You don't ever need to thank me for anything." I could feel my face grow hot as he smiled at me. I coughed. "Now then, let's get you seated before you use up all of your strength." After a few moments my charge was comfortably situated facing his sea. For several minutes neither of us spoke, we just sat and stared into the vast expanse of water which had been so influential in both of our lives. I watched the waves break and send white foam rushing onto the sand. I listened to the rise and fall of the ocean and the low whistle of the warm, salty wind. I pulled off my shoes and dug my feet into the sand in front of me. It was one of those rare moments in life where a person is completely content. I was not sad, nor was I happy, I just was.

He spoke.

"All I ever wanted to be was a sailor. I thought that if I gave my life to the sea then she would give me back everything I needed for that life to be happy." I turned, placing my elbow on my knee and resting my chin on my hand. He was staring out into the horizon. He seemed barely aware that I was still there.

"And did she not?" He sighed slightly and looked down at his hands where they rested on his lap.

"No, she did not." He told me his story. He spoke of his boyhood in Bristol, his first voyage, his first commission. He told me of his crossing to Jamaica with the new Governor and his daughter. He told me about Elizabeth, the blacksmith, and the pirates, ghosts of men who became their true selves by moonlight. He hesitated when he came to this part of the tale, understandably, but decided he trusted that I would not think him mad. He then told me how he lost the lady and chased the pirate into the storm. The rest of the story was by this point familiar to me.

He coughed, his voice was hoarse from his narrative. I handed him the water bowl. By this point in the evening the sun was only a tiny point of light on the horizon. I could see Mother and Robert walking up the beach from the village where they had spent the day. I turned back to Norrington. He stared blankly into the distance. He did not turn to look at me.

"You have had a hard time of late, I'm so sorry." He blinked.

"It has been hard, but I am a soldier, meant to deal with such things."

"True, but those were not the hardships I meant." He cocked his head to one side and looked at me, confused.

"What then?" I shrugged.

"Well, from what you've told me it seems to me that you've always been rather lonely, and the whole ordeal over your Miss Swann would, I would think, just make that loneliness all the more painful. And now you've lost so many of your friends…" He clenched his jaw and sighed.

"She is not my Miss Swann, she never was, really. And as for my friends…" He paused, his voice had become so heavy. "Well, grieving will not bring any of them back." Mother and Robert were nearly home. My charge stared at his feet, obviously avoiding my eyes. I picked up my basket and knelt in front of him, forcing him to look at me.

"You cannot bring them back, but you are allowed to mourn them." He sighed again and shook his head.

"It does no good."

"You must allow yourself to feel something, James, otherwise what kind of life will you have?" He stared at me, his eyes searching for some kind of answer to his ruined life in my face. I stared back, willing him to see for himself some of the hope I saw for him.

"Hallo! Finally out and about, I see," Robert shouted as he and Mother approached the mouth of the cave. I stood.

"Yes, we've had our first venture back into the world today." I turned back to Norrington. "Come now, it's nearly night and we should get you back to your bed. This has been quite enough for one day, has it not?" He returned his gaze to the sand. I could almost see his mind working behind his tense forehead. "James?" He looked up.

"Yes, you're right." He tried to stand on his own with little success. I took his arm and pulled him up. He brought a hand to his forehead.

"I feel so weak, will you help me Cora?" I smiled and placed my arm around his back for support.

"However I can, Mr. Norrington, as always."