I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney does! I only own the characters that weren't in the movies. You know, the ones I made up. I also do not own Isabella Swann, Ambassador Alexander Swann, or Count Philip Rochester, who belong to Vilofied.

Another week had passed, and still no Chrissy. I'd gone early in the mornings, only to find her sleeping in the late hours of the early day. I've tried around the afternoon, only to find Isabella, telling me that my wife was feeling ill, and didn't want company. Even at night, and not even very late, she'd retired to bed early! It's as though she's cut off all communication with me!

I glared into the fire, trying to think of a time I could possibly call on my wife. A heavy sigh passed my lips, and I looked down at my uniform. Yes, I'd gone back to Fort Charles and claimed my job back, after showing that I am, in fact, alive. I had nothing else to do, and I feared that if I didn't keep my mind busy, I would surely go mad.

"Your tea, sir." My maid, Jane, said quietly as she set the tray on the tea table near the settee.

"thank you, Jane. You're dismissed." I mumbled.

"Yes, sir." she curtsied.

I drank my tea quickly, not caring that the hot liquid was scorching my mouth and throat. I embraced the pain.

"Master Norrington." Came a small voice.

I looked up slowly, and found Jane standing a few feet away. "Yes, Jane?" I asked quietly.

"Well, sir, we, meaning the house staff and I, have noticed that this entire ordeal has put you in a very foul mood over the past two weeks." she said quietly, with a lot of nervousness in her voice.

"Yes..?" I said suspiciously.

"Well…sir…we got to talking about it…and…" she stopped, seemingly too scared to continue.

"Go on, Jane. What is it?" I prompted her patiently.

"Well, we got to talking about it, and came to the conclusion that maybe…perhaps, if you pretended to be injured, it would scare Mrs. Norrington back to you." she finished in a near whisper.

I stared at the young maid, searching her eyes for any hint of a jest. "That's absurd." I growled. "I don't hanve to lie to get my wife back."

She hung her head. "I apologize, sir. It's not my place."

Again, I sat and stared quietly at the young maid. She had only just turned thirteen in the month prior. She'd been abandoned when very little. One of the my older maids had found her, a little girl, begging on the street. Naturally, the woman's heart went out to her, and she brought her to my home, requesting permission to raise and teach her as her own. Not one to just turn a child out on the street, I allowed the maid to raise her.

The child was most likely scared out of her wits about confronting me with the idea, and had gone to great effort to do what she thought was helping. A sigh passed my lips, and I stood. "I apologize, Jan. I realize you went to great effort to tell me this. I did not mean to snap at you." I told her softly.

"Yes, sir." she nodded, still keeping her head ducked down.

I furrowed my brows at her. "Jane, have you eaten breakfast?"

Ah. That caught her attention. She looked up at me, and furrowed her brows. "Beg pardon, sir?"

"Have you eaten breakfast, Jane?" I repeated.

She shook her head slowly. "No, sir. I've not had the time. We've had a lot of cleaning to do."

I offered her a very, very small smile. "Go on and eat, Jane. You must be famished."

She furrowed her brows, and I interrupted her when she began to speak. "You heard right, Jane. Go eat. I can hear your stomach from my position."

She smiled, and curtsied. "thank you, thank you, sir!"

I smiled as she hurried herself out of the study, and on down the hall. The smile disappeared, however, as soon as I was certain I was completely alone. I sauntered over to my desk, and produced a large bottle of brandy from one of its drawers.

'Fake an injury?' I thought, taking a large gulp from the bottle.

I winced as the alcohol burned my throat, not helping the burns from the tea. What sort of injury could I possibly fake? A broken leg or arm wouldn't do, Chrissy would see right through that act. A stab injury wouldn't do, either, because she would go to inspect the skin, and would find no wound. I racked my brain for a few minutes more, and took several swigs from the bottle. A crooked grin came to my lips as the alcohol began to set in. I would try pleading with her one more time, and if that didn't work, I would set my plan into motion.

An empty sigh passed my lips. How much longer was this charade to go on? It seems that every time my husband dares to make a move, I'm asleep! Is he really so cowardly to only visit me in my sleep?!

I looked at myself one more time in the mirror, making sure I looked appropriate before wandering about the grounds. My hair was pulled neatly back, tied with a ribbon at my nape. A creamy shirt kept my upper half covered, and a black pair of breeches donned my lower half.

I walked quietly out of my room, and as I made my way down the staircase, I thought I could hear a commotion coming from the entrance. I padded quickly to the base of the staircase, and found a very drunk and disorderly James Norrington shouting, and putting up quite a fuss with Alexander, and some of the butlers, who were holding him by the arms.

As soon as James spotted me, however, all of his shouting and struggling stopped, and he just stared at me. The butlers and Alexander stared at me too, waiting for my reaction.

"Bring him to my room." I said quietly.

I sat, brooding away as the butlers deposited my husband on my bed. Did he really think he was proving something, by coming over here drunk?

As soon as the butlers and Alexander left the room, shutting the door firmly behind them, I stood.

James sat up, falling back several times in the process, and tried to speak. "D-darling…"

"What do you think your doing?" I seethed. "Do you think this is helping anything?"

He stared at me silently, and stumbled to his feet. "I…l-let…" he stuttered.

"Exactly!" I snapped. "It's not helping anything!"

His eyes began to glass over. "P-please…I…I didn't…" he seemed at loss for words.

An irritated sigh passed my lips, and I got to him in a few strides. I spun him around, which wasn't difficult in his condition, and took his admiral's coat from his shoulders. I then whirled him back around to face me, and removed his tricorn, wig, weapons, and waistcoat.

"Lay down on the bed, James." I mumbled.

He just stared at me, furrowing his brows in a slow, drunken manner.

Another irritated sigh passed my lips, and I put my hand on his chest. "Lay down, darling." I growled, shoving him.

He fell back with a small yelp, his arms flailing as his legs hit the mattress, sending his body crashing down atop it. I took advantage of that moment, and removed his boots.

"I…I'm sorry!" he sniveled.

I didn't say anything, but closed the drapes on the canopy bed; all except the side facing away from the door. I then wet a rag in the wash basin, and eased myself beside him. He studied me fondly with tear-filled, drunken eyes as I laid my hand on his forehead. Just as I'd suspected, his temperature was very high above normal. In fact, his entire body was covered with sweat.

"How did you get here, James?" I asked him as I began dabbing his face with the rag.

"I…w-walked…" he slurred.

"Walked?!" I shrieked. "In this condition? You could have gotten killed!"

"Th-that's…alright." he responded sadly. "I…I'd rather…d-die, than no…h-have you."

I wanted to kiss him, and slap him at the same time. I couldn't move for a few moments, trying to regain my composure. "You're just drunk." I mumbled, running the rag over his left cheek. He winced, and I had to look twice to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. There, on his cheek, was a bruise…shaped like a handprint. I'd left a bruise on his cheek from slapping him!

"James…" I sighed.

"What have I done…n-now?" he mumbled.

"Nothing." I mumbled back. "Just lay still."

I continued to rub his face and neck, using more force than needed trying to make him at least a little sober.

"That hurts." he winced.

"I'm trying to make you sober." I grumbled.

"Stop it!" he growled.

I tossed the rag, and swung my legs on either side of him, landing harshly atop his pelvis. "Incase you haven't noticed, James, I'm not taking orders from you anymore! I'm a very free spirited, hard headed woman, and I won't let you order me around!"

By the time I was finished our noses were touching, and my hands were gripping his shoulders.

He stared at me silently, his eyes glazed over, as though he were in a trance. "I love you." he whispered. "J-just…come b-back." he slurred.

Then, he was out. His head sank back against the mattress, and a light snore escaped his throat. I sighed, and laid down beside him.

I woke with a throbbing in my head, and an ache in my stomach. Had I really consumed that much brandy? I groaned as I sat up, and the eventually stood. I was very tempted to lay back down, to nurse my throbbing head. But I had a task at hand.

I clumsily pulled my boots and tricorn on, and grabbed my pistol. I had to take my time getting down the staircase, for my vision was still a bit hazy. I hadn't even drank that much brandy! Most of my drunkenness was acting, and I'm surprised my wife hadn't realized it.

"Ah! Good afternoon, James." Alexander greeted me as I stumbled into his study. He then eyes my pistol, and gave me a questionable look. "Is everything…alright?"

I smirked wickedly at him. "I'm going to need some help with a plan."

"Easy, girl. Easy." I soothed my strawberry roan mare.

I thought I'd heard something moving around in the patch of trees, not far behind us. That's what must have spooked the mare.

"It was probably just a deer." I whispered to her.

The mare kept her ears perked forward, and her brown eyes on the small patch. I sighed, and tied the reins to a low tree branch. She had been a birthday gift from James, and had proved to be a very sturdy horse. She was also one of the prettiest horses in the stables. Her mane and tail were a reddish, pinkish color, and her coat looked to be a faded red. Like I said, she's very sturdy, but she's been acting very skittish as of late.

I decided she wasn't being ridden enough, and turned my gaze to the sea. Just as I though I was beginning to relax, a distant whinny caught my attention. I looked up to find James riding up on a grey mare, uncertainty written across his features. He dismounted quietly, and tied his horse next to mine.

"I want to apologize." he said quietly.

I sighed. "You should."

"Won't you listen to me?" he asked sadly.

"That depends. Is James back in your body?"

"Darling…" he said in in exasperation.

I turned angrily and began to walk away. Why must he be so complicated?

"I'd rather die than not have you." he called.

I froze. Did I hear a pistol being cocked? My greatest fear stood before me when I whirled back around. James's eyes were filled with tears, and a pistol was cocked, and pressed to his temple.

"James?" I whispered.

"I tried!" he cried out. "I'm sorry! I love you!"

A gun shot rang out, and his body fell limply to the lush, grassy ground. Blood spilled over his temple, and stained his clothing, and the grass around his head.

"JAMES!!" I shrieked.

I was at his side in a heartbeat, cradling his head in my arms. "God, what have I done?!" I screamed. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I put you through what I did. I just wanted to teach you a lesson!" I sobbed. "You just got so protective…it felt like you didn't care about me anymore…just the baby I was carrying. I ust wanted you to learn from this…" I whispered against his bloodied temple.

"Lesson learned." he said quietly.

I fell backwards out of shock. "Wha-…But I…" I stuttered. "I saw you shoot!"

Sitting up, he chuckled. "I didn't. Alexander did, though."

"What?" I whispered.

I heard rustling from the patch of trees, and saw Alexander emerge with a smoking pistol in his right hand.

"B-but…the blood!" I cried, reaching out and wiping some of it off. There was no wound.

"It's just paint, darling." he soothed as he cleaned my fingers off on his shirt.

"How?! Why?!" I yelled, suddenly very angry.

"I can't tell you how." he smiled. "That's a secret between me and Alexander. Now as to why…" his voice grew soft. "I never could find you at the right time. You were either sleeping, or feeling ill. Then I tried to talk to you, and you just walked away. This was the only way I could see to get your attention."

I stood up quickly and turned my back to him, but didn't move otherwise. My heart was pounding hard against my ribs, and I feared it would tear right out of my chest. I heard movement behind me, and then felt a pair of strong hands on my shoulders.

"I thought I'd seen you die right in front of me." I whispered brokenly. "I thought you were…dead." I shuddered on the last word.

"It was all I could think to do." he said softly. "You weren't giving a chance."

He turned me around slowly, and wiped away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks, and some of the paint.

I looked at the fake blood on his temple, and slapped him heard across the left cheek, right on the bruise. "James Norrington, you are the most complicated man I've ever met…and I love you for it." I finished in a whisper, pulling his head down so I could claim his lower lip.

There you have it! Perhaps now the storm will smooth out between them? Please review! Thanks!