The marines of Port Royal had their share of community service the days following the storm. They were dispatched around the town to assist in repairing what they could, and clearing away the damage, including the tree from Commodore Norrington's sitting room.

Norrington had instructed his men to remove the debris from his home last, despite the magnitude of the damage. As he was physically unable to aid in the effort, it was dutiful to be self-sacrificing.

It was evening when the palm tree was finally towed out, and the broken window had been boarded up. The soaked upholstery had been taken outside earlier, to dry in the sun, under now-clear skies. The broken items, such as the table and the very stool Elizabeth had been seated upon, had been disposed of.

James Norrington stood in the middle of the leaf- and twig-littered floor, dressed in dry clothes, but without wig or uniform coat. He bent over and picked up a large palm branch and found underneath a painting that had been blown off the wall. It laid facedown in the dampness.

He picked it up; water dripped from the frame. It was an old painting, sent over to him from England for his first birthday stationed in Port Royal. It had been a scene of the Northern English countryside- a place he had called home when he was younger. His brother's wife had painted it for him. Now it was a muddied and scratched blurry canvas.

James had not seen his family in a long time- eight years it had been. The fancy of travelling to see them flitted through his mind. But his brain was flooded with the consideration towards whom he called his immediate family.

In the hours previous, Elizabeth had confessed to James that all this time she had loved William Turner. She insisted that she had tried to love James; there was a time that she thought she did- but upon seeing Will, her affections for her childhood friend could not be denied.

Elizabeth offered a thousand apologies. She told him that Will was leaving for the American colonies, and naively suggested that since he would be absent, she could keep trying to love James. She wanted to, she had said. But the Commodore knew that she never would. Their marriage would always remain "a smart match," a formal, bureaucratic partnership.

James knew he could not make Elizabeth happy. Content, perhaps, comfortable in lifestyle, but never happy. If he kept her as his wife, he feared he would hurt her more, and lose forever the vibrant woman he had fallen in love with. This was the last thing he desired.

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" He looked at her sitting up in bed against her pillows despondently.

"It is," Elizabeth replied calmly, with no more tears left to weep. She was so weary after she finished telling her account. Tired but well; she had no more lies to veil.

James rose from her beside then to leave her to slumber. She rested easy that night, as the only weight upon her was the weight of exhaustion upon her eyelids, as the heaviness of her pretext had been finally lifted.

The next day Commodore James Norrington called on Elizabeth's father, the Governor. It was then that Weatherby Swann learned the reality of his daughter's marriage.

"Your daughter is in love with William Turner," Norrington bluntly stated.

Swann was caught off-guard. "What? Has she-" his stammered.

"She has committed nothing dishonorable," James interjected. "She has only been honest."

Governor Swann's brow furrowed beneath the large curls of his gray wig. "Why are you the one bringing this revelation to my attention?"

James's hands clasped tighter as he held them behind his back. His face remained grave. "Because I only wish for Elizabeth's happiness. Therefore I am asking you, as governor and as her father to annul our marriage."

"Annulment?" he gasped, rising from his chair. "On what grounds might it be granted?"

"The marriage was never consummated," Norrington replied, looking past Swann to the window. Weatherby looked embarrassed for a moment before Norrington went on. "I would never harm your daughter. The continuation of our union would be nothing but egregious to her character." He was proceeding militaristically, not allowing one shred of despair or heartbreak to find its way into his voice.

The Governor regained his composure. "You are an honorable man, James Norrington. Extremely, extraordinarily selfless." He paused, glancing down at his desk, then raising his eyes, a bit steely, again. "But have you considered this? What of the social repercussions?"

"I could care less what the gossips of Jamaica find to entertain their tongues," the Commodore rejoined. "As for Elizabeth-" his voice softened- "Mr. Turner is to leave for the Colonies. Let Elizabeth go with him. There they might begin a new life, where it is rougher, simpler, more enterprising. They would do well, free from the condescension of this society." He took a breath. "I speak with only concern for Elizabeth's well-being. Take into consideration nothing else on this matter."

"And has she consented to an annulment?" Governor Swann walked around his desk.

"Her signature upon the document alongside my own will confirm it."

"You have not yet told her of this proposal?"

Norrington winced inwardly at Swann's word choice. He had first come to the governor to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. Now he was requesting that the bond be reneged. "No," he said. "I wanted to be sure it could be done first."

Weatherby sighed and tapped the back of the office chair. "She is in love with Will Turner?"

"She only accepted my hand because of her love for him." Norrington's green eyes darkened as he remembered recovering Elizabeth from the island that Barbossa had left her on. "That Turner's life could be saved in exchange for it."

Governor Swann recalled this too, as well as the words he had spoken aboard the Dauntless the night of the cursed battle. He meant for Elizabeth to hear them, but she had taken flight from the ship to join Will and Sparrow in the cave of Isla de Muerta. She risked all for the boy they had found orphaned and adrift in the ocean on the crossing from England. Weatherby had told his daughter to watch over the boy all those years ago. She watched him, and came to love him. Who was he to deny it? And now he looked at James Norrington, whose devoted heart was victimized in this fate.

"I will grant you your request, Commodore." Swann sighed and frowned. "I am very sorry, James."

"As am I, governor."

Swann reached out and shook Norrington's hand. "I enjoyed calling you my son-in-law. Know that you will always be welcomed as part of my family."

"Thank you, Weatherby," James grasped the older man's hand. He then stepped back and bowed, making his leave.

"I am not unfamiliar with losing a loved one," Swann went on. "I will never say it will be alright, but I will wish for you to find happiness."

"Thank you, sir."

Norrington did not go to Elizabeth with his proposition after the meeting with her father concluded. He had one more person to see before he did so.

The Commodore arrived at Brown's smithy in the late afternoon. He knocked on the door, and Will Turner answered.

Will's brown eyes widened at the sight of the officer. Had he discovered evidence of his and Elizabeth's rendezvous?

"Commodore," he said.

"Mr. Turner." Norrington nodded curtly.

"Come in, sir." Will pulled the door open and stepped aside. "What can I do for you?"

Norrington looked around the shop, newly fashioned swords handing by their hilts, alongside other metalwork. A new blade was cooling in a tub of water, and the coals of the fire were red-hot, a rod of steel heating.

"I recently learned that you plan on leaving Port Royal for the American Colonies?"

Will's heart pounded. He had told none other than Mr. Brown and Elizabeth of his leaving. Perhaps the marines had investigated the passenger logs of the ship he was to board. He hoped this was the case; he wouldn't jump to defend himself.

"True, I leave next week Sunday."

"Why, may I ask?" The Commodore's cool demeanor was unnerving the blacksmith.

"I'm looking for a new start," Will answered, turning away from Norrington.

"I'm going to be frank, Mr. Turner. I am aware of your and Elizabeth's shared feelings."

Will tried to sidestep. "Feelings concerning what, Commodore?"

James was not up for playing rhetorical games. "She loves you," he almost snarled. "And you love her, do you not?" He wore a fearsome expression, like that of a wounded animal. Will dared not lie to the man.

"I do, sir." Then he jumped to defend himself. "I thought that much was evident from past occurrences."

"Then you would take her as your wife?"

Will blanched. "Commodore, you are her husband."

"If I was not, would you?" James stared the young man down.

"If she would have me," he declared.

Norrington stepped forward. "Then I will tell you now to take Elizabeth with you when you leave for America. The marriage between she and I was never meant to be; it is to be annulled."

"Commodore Norrington," Will gasped, swallowing his heart, which jumped into his throat.

"Her heart lies with you, Turner. I will not stand in the way of it."

Will blinked, dumbfounded, and looked about, trying to reassure himself that the world had not just turned upside down. If James was being honest, then his life was just made complete. "I don't know what to say-"

"Say that you will take her with you. Give me your word that you will do everything in your power to guarantee her happiness."

For a moment Will was afraid that Norrington was going to leap forward and grab him by the collar. But the man stood straight as the mast of his ship-of-the-line. "You have my word," Will affirmed.

Norrington drew his sword from his hilt, the one Will had forged for his promotion to Commodore. The smith flinched, startled.

"This is a fine sword, Mr. Turner. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

"Thank you. Sir."

Norrington sheathed the blade and fixed Will with his most steel-like gaze. He bowed to him, who still stood staggered. James turned to exit, but stopped at the door. "Your ship departs on Sunday?"

"At dawn."

"What is the vessel?"

"The Charlotte. The captain's name is Jackson."

"Elizabeth with meet you at the docks."

And with that, the Commodore left.

Author's Notes: This story is very near its conclusion. I'm grateful for any comments and critique you might have to offer. My thanks to you for reading! Also: The line referring to America as a "rougher, simpler, more enterprising" place is a reference to a line in Sherman Edwards's "1776," a very favorite play of mine.