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[scourgeofpiracy]

There's an office in Port Royal that James Norrington used to know as well as his own house.

He hasn't been there in months, in the real world. So it's really no surprise that he dreams himself back there, once in a while. That he dreams he never fell from grace.

He's sitting behind the desk, papers in hand.

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[bringmethatnpc]

"Aye-aye, sir. Yes sir, and right away, sir." He snaps a salute, bitterness leeching into his words.

"Too bad you cannot have thought to do that before you dragged us all along on a suicidal mission to try to save your pride and rank, Commodore. Or do officers give a care to the men who must follow them, even to the depths of hell itself?"

Somehow, even at the distance from the port to Norrington's office, the screams of men being swept from the Worthington and tossed into the sea can be heard over the howling of the wind.

[scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com]

Norrington shudders, eyes closing uselessly.

"There was no turning back. If I could have done anything else..."

[bringmethatnpc]

"If's after the fact do not account for much, Commodore."
Theirs not to make reply
Hollow sounding footsteps move around him, circling, pacing.
Theirs not to reason why
"For only the living get 'if only's', and other people are stuck with the consequences of your own bad decisions, sir. The dead know what is happened and done, for they have no hopes and wishes of changing it."
Theirs but to do and die.
The howling of the wind and roar of the waves increases, as if just outside the window, along with the cracking of splintering wood, the snapping of tearing sails, and the screaming of doomed men.

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"You all died well", he says softly. "The bad decisions were none of yours... wherever you are, surely it's better than this?"

[bringmethatnpc]

There is no warning, none at all-

Norrington is grabbed, turned, and slammed back against the windows, ice-cold hands grabbing ahold of his uniform coat. Green eyes blaze in a pale, washed out face, inches away from his.

"If I were anywhere else, do you think I would be here speaking to you??"

[scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com]

Norrington has no choice but to face him now. Face it, what he did.

"And when you leave me tonight?"

[bringmethatnpc]

I go back. Back to the Interceptor, sir." He laughs, bitterly, letting go of Norrington and taking a step back.

"Can ships die, and haunt as ghosts do? Since they are here as well, I would think so, Commodore."

"Aye, they can haunt, and if we cannot touch the world of the living, we can still make sure that the living cannot forget us. Ever."

[scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com]

Green eyes fix on him, and Norrington doesn't look away. He owes the young man this, at least.

"And I say, I will not. Not while my mind is still my own."

[bringmethatnpc]

The midshipman eyes him, shoulders back, and chin up stubbornly.

"See that you do not, Commodore."

Then maybe he fades away, maybe he does not. Norrington has no time to notice as the waves crash in-

crash through

the walls of the office. He remembers this, does not he? The freezing cold water, the storm tossing one about until you did not know which was was up, naught but a plaything for the elements-

Did he survive the hurricane? Or had everything after it been just an instant twist of a dream as the water sucked him under-

I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

[scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com]

He does remember, yes.

And for a good few moments, even after he wakes gasping and sweat-drenched in his own bed at Milliways, he's not sure whether he lived or died, that day.

Perhaps he wishes it had been the latter.