scourgeofpiracy | (no subject)

(no subject)

He has a job to do, and he's doing it. Scrubbing the decks may not be the most pleasant work, but at least it helps him not to think too hard.

Or to think about what he has to do next.

One of those.

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"Because you are a good man, and recognized the same in Jack," she continues, firmly. There's a point to be made, and she will not be dissuaded from making it. "Besides, with Jack captured and hung -- the last real pirate threat -- what was left to accomplish? Letting him go was your choice."

His words finally sink in. Eyes narrowing, she jerks to her feet and looks down.

Reproachfully, "pardon?"

Norrington chooses to ignore her last question and focus on the speech. And laughs at her.

"The last real pirate threat? Oh, Elizabeth, how much you don't know. Jack Sparrow was the least of the threats I had to worry about, in the Caribbean, until recently."

Elizabeth does not handle being laughed at well. Her chin juts out as she glares.

"Until recently, yes," she replies coldly. "Is this not, to your knowledge, the fastest pirate ship in these waters? Would it be quite so troublesome with someone else at the helm?"

She walks to the port rail and runs a finger along the wood.

"Laugh all you like, former Commodore, but the reaction to his escape certainly seems disproportionate if such laughter is truly warranted." A pointed look. "The East India Company, for one, certainly seems interested."

"The East India Company keep their own counsel", Norrington says flatly. "And don't often trouble to explain it, to those who must do their work."

Not quite sure what to make of this, Elizabeth turns back around and studies him, mulling it over.

"What did you do at this attempted recapture, James?"

He's not looking at her, and deliberately so. His voice is carefully even when he answers.

"I was ordered to bring back Captain Sparrow alive, and with his effects. I think you can imagine the consequences for a failure. So, I... did what was necessary to succeed, or die in the attempt."

"Meaning?" she prompts. He may not be looking at her, but she keeps her face expressionless, her tone even.

"Meaning", he says flatly, "I was very close to catching them, when a storm blew up. A hurricane. And I forced the crew to keep going, against their protests."

There's no self-loathing in his voice at all. But that's because there's nothing else, either.

He sailed through a hurricane.

Elizabeth flinches, feeling ever so slightly sick.

"How many survived?" Not so even, now.

"Of the three ships?" he asks wearily. "Perhaps a score."

Elizabeth remains silent for several minutes, gaze disbelieving, trying to reconcile this news with the blame he apparently places on her shoulders.

"When I suggested a part of you wanted to let Jack escape," she begins, "I did not say you had not come to regret that decision."

Watching the man she never wanted to marry, she struggles with what to say next.

"I know what your position meant to you. And I do not fault you that, nor your continued pursuit." She shakes her head. "But I did not expect this, James Norrington."

Not from him.

"Which part, exactly?" he asks, and his voice is as cutting as he can make it right now.

"Deciding to sail through a hurricane rather than waiting and living to give chase another day. Pure folly."

She had never considered him one to take such risks.

"Sometimes", he says slowly, "a choice must be made, based on the situation at hand."

"Yes."

Elizabeth doesn't disagree. Hadn't she done the same when she agreed to marry him?

Squinting, she eyes the horizon. Slender fingers reach for the compass always kept on her person. She opens it and watches as the arrow points their course.

"I'd be interested to see where this needle would point were the compass in your hands."

She closes the casing with a small click, smiling grimly.

"I'll leave you to your work, James. Good day."

Elizabeth stiffly walks away with even more to ponder.

He watches her go, and it's a long time before he starts to scrub the deck again.

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