Author's Note: Thanks to all readers and reviewers; your thoughts are always appreciated. Your encouragement helps this story move along, and I am glad to say it's developing well- I can promise a subsequent chapter fairly soon. Since the last update I've seen "At World's End," and I'm quite determined to write out a better fate for my dear favorite character (though it might be a while- this story will get a bit more angsty before it gets better). But until that conclusion, thanks for continuing to read!

James and Elizabeth Norrington had been engaged in an awkward dance for the past month. They were always being too careful not to step on one another's toes, constantly watching their feet. From an observer's perspective, their interaction seemed friendly and affectionate- all movement made was charming and graceful, everything expected of a husband and wife. But at closer proximity, uneasiness radiated from the two persons. Their movements were rigid and graceless, excruciatingly measured. Each social event the couple attended together became not unlike a play, and they were the actors. Though neither of them were strangers to the social game, to perform to such a constant extent was exhausting.

But it was at a dinner party when the façade began to crumble, and sincerity replaced polite pretenses.

A wealthy merchant by the name of the Sinclair was the host, or more appropriately, his wife was. Mrs. Sinclair always took full advantage of the family's fiscal status to throw as many parties that she could fit in a calendar. The Sinclair house and social circle was nothing foreign to Norrington and Elizabeth, having been attending the gatherings for years, and receiving invitations for an even longer time. The October night was pleasant, accompanied by breezes sweeping through the large house every so often, so the routine socializing wasn't too unbearable for them, until conversation took an uncomfortable turn.

Elizabeth and James stood together in the foyer with the company of sugar plantation owners Mr. & Mrs. Hilderley, trader Mr. Staunton, and the widow Bryan. Mrs. Bryan had just concluded asking how the Commodore's most recent patrol at sea had been, about Jamaica and the neighboring islands, which Norrington had replied, had been relatively uneventful. The subject of voyages had then loosened a topic on Mr. Staunton's tongue, which was the Black Pearl debacle. He turned to Elizabeth, who inwardly grimaced.

"What an awful plight for you to have experienced, Mrs. Norrington- Miss Swann, you were then."

"-Oh how time flies," Mrs. Hilderley interjected. "You are well recovered by now, my dear?" she asked, leaning in, touching Elizabeth's elbow. She didn't wait for her reply. "And how valiant a man the Commodore is, to have rescued you from such a fate. Such love and devotion!"

Norrington was wearing his best uniform, as well as his stone-faced expression that went along with it. Elizabeth responded, "Regardless of whom might have been taken captive by the pirates, Commodore Norrington would have acted just the same." To make sure that it didn't sound as if she was brushing off the Navy's efforts at mundane, she added, "So honorable a man he is."

"The same honor belongs to the marines of my crew, as well other vigilant persons," Norrington rejoined. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. He was referring to William Turner.

"Mrs. Norrington." Mr. Staunton ignored James's modesty and continued pestering Elizabeth, stealing her attention before it could dwell too considerably on the past. "You must enlighten us," he pressed. "Share a few tales of your adventures- or misadventures I should say- being among that pirate crew."

All those involved with the Black Pearl were by the present time, well rehearsed in relaying an account of the event with all the supernatural details concerning a blood debt for a legion of undead pirates omitted. Therefore Elizabeth replied, "I'm afraid I don't have much of an epic for you. Being locked in a pirate ship's quarters as hostage was frightening, but mostly uneventful. Overall the worst parts included the seasickness!" She smiled and laughed a bit, hoping the humor would divert the subject. But the gossips persisted.

"You weren't harmed at all?" Mr. Hilderley asked.

"Shoved about would just be the extent of it. After all, harming a hostage wouldn't have accomplished their means."

"It is almost unbelievable that you came away from such a band of men unblemished," Mr. Staunton said with a detectable patronizing, accusatory tone of voice.

Elizabeth's molars ground together, her jaw jutted. She knew this man was questioning her virtue. And so did Norrington.

"Mr. Staunton," he began, his voice raised, drawing the attention of nearby persons. "My wife" –his heart pounded as he said these words- "withstood the situation with fortitude and dignity, departing from it with only greater strength and honor." His profile was hawk-like, and the plump aristocrat recoiled under Norrington's glare. "Your inquiries are too bold, and your speculations libelous."

Mr. Staunton's eyes dropped to the floor, his lips pursed. "My apologies," he said and turned to Elizabeth, decidedly avoiding making further eye contact with the Naval officer. "Please forgive me, Mrs. Norrington." Staunton's voice was reproachful, and a shadow of a sneer was on his features. "Assuredly, your character is of great esteem." He then bowed to the circle of familiars. "If you'll excuse me."

"Certainly, sir," Elizabeth dismissed him. He took his leave, and the others followed suit, finding new, more lighthearted assemblies.

Walking together, Norrington's touch on Elizabeth's hand at the crook of his arm was strong. They both adopted steely expressions and faced straight ahead. A misplaced feeling of guilt had been instilled in Elizabeth by the Staunton's accusations. She felt sorry to have ever experienced that great escapade at that moment, and thinking of Will Turner, and of the man at her side, she perceived herself to be a terribly ungrateful. Of all the Commodore had done and was continuing to do for her, what had she done for him? And she had not seen or relayed a word to Will since her marriage.

Her heart ached a pain that had been dull and overlooked the past month; now the bruise hurt afresh. Her mind burned with memories she had not given consideration for some time.

"You do too much, Commodore," Elizabeth said, breaking their silence. "Day by day I go further into your debt."

"Elizabeth, never have I acted with expectation of reimbursement," he replied. He tried to swallow his next statement, but his desire pushed past his teeth. "But if you wish me to ask anything of you it is this-" Their strides halted and they faced each other for a moment. "As I stand by you, stand by me."

Elizabeth looked into James's eyes, the color of the sea. A sense of understanding hung in the space between them, of good intentions accompanied with uncertainties. There was still a distance to traverse- but they would travel together, even if their gaits were unlike the choreographed march of a soldier. Their hands were joined, as the rings matched on their fingers, helping the other along, to gain balance, pull up and along, or, to wait.