Fic: On Both Sides
Title: On Both Sides
Author: Hildwyn
Rating: T
Characters: Norrington, Elizabeth, Gillette
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: At the end of Curse of the Black Pearl, Norrington speaks with Elizabeth, and laments his loss and shares his pain with Gillette. Some feelings mentioned that would deal with non-canon pairings.
“This is where your heart truly lies then?”
“It is.”
“James,” the soft dulcet voice that could belong to no other, and the tentative knock on the door to his office brought Norrington's gaze up from the tumbler in his hand. The marines were supposed...ah. He'd forgotten that shortly after his first drink he'd poked his head out and told the sentries to leave. He didn't need any ears witness to any emotional outburst he may have, especially if were the sounds of glass shattering and objects being thrown around. Apparently an unfounded fear. Everything in his office was intact.
Except him.
He blinked rapidly, cursing at Miss Swann's incredible ability to time time her visit for when he was least prepared to speak with her: after three glasses: a lapse in judgment, and an incredible lapse in emotion.
“James?” The voice asked again, the same tone creeping in as it always had when she'd been a stubborn and inquisitive child on board the Dauntless, always wanting to know more about how the ship functioned, or wanting to know more about any pirates he may have dealt with. It was that tone that she would use that foretold she would be following him around until she got the answer she wanted, or until he was 'rescued' by Governor Swann. In truth though...he had never minded. She had been a breath of fresh air compared with most of the people he had had to deal with-smart, quick, kind...what so many simply were not.
Taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes, he quickly composed himself. He placed the tumbler down on the desk he was perched on, and stood and walked to the door. His shoes scraped ever so slightly against the cool stone floor. Closing his eyes he took a calming breath before he opened the door to reveal Miss Swann standing alone outside.
“James....” Elizabeth paused when she took note of his face, the slight swelling to his eyes and redness to his cheeks, “are you alright?”
Norrington was taken aback by the question. Was he alright? Of course he wasn't. He wanted to fall to the floor and dissolve into a puddle that would evaporate away into the air, and simply cease to be! He wanted this terrible feeling inside of him to stop, because the rest of him should physically break apart! One should not be able to feel so much pain and continue on as a whole. But to say so...
“I'm fine,” he said softly, his breath hardly more than a whisper. He stepped backwards into the room and turned away from Elizabeth, his feet acting as if they had a mind of their own, and all that they wanted was to put more distance between him and the one who had utterly broken him. He stopped at his table, his gaze down at his glass. He heard the soft steps of Elizabeth behind him. She had apparently interpreted his actions as an invitation to enter.
“Oh James...” Her voice was soft, softer than usual. “James, if I could have....I would have found a better time...” he felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before it slid over to rest against his shoulder blade.
“I didn't want to hurt you.”
Norrington nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. He wanted more than anything to tell her that she didn't hurt him, he didn't want her to bear that burden...but that was not the truth, and it would be a transparent lie. And he could not do that to her either. Silence seemed the best option.
“You are one of the most honourable men I know.” One of, not the. No doubt that position was reserved for Turner. Turner, who showed such honour by commandeering a vessel, engaging in acts of piracy, and freeing prisoners. Turner who...no, these was not becoming thoughts to be having.
“I just want you to be happy,” he said softly, and that I could have been what you wanted, “And I would...if you would...” he straightened, though still avoided turning to look at her, “I do not wish to lose your...friendship. I treasure it.”
Elizabeth's hand dropped from his back, and for a moment, he felt his heart plunge down through his body, past his stomach and straight through to the floor, and suddenly he felt sick. She wishes no more contact with me, how could I be so-
She moved around him, her hand touching the front of his shoulder, lightly pressing him back moving into his view.
“James, I treasure our friendship, too. You are a fine man. And I would have married you, but...” Elizabeth stopped.
But I released you from your promise, he finished mentally for Elizabeth. If he had not, there was no question that she would have honoured her word.
“I did what anyone else would have in the same situation.”
“No,” Elizabeth said with small smile, “and for that I am grateful.”
Norrington stood with Elizabeth next to him, for how long he was not sure. Long enough that he let his eyes drop back to the desk, finding looking at Elizabeth to be too painful. Looking at her, seeing her, had always made his day brighter; it reminded him of why he did his duty. He had even gone out of his way to find reasons to visit the Swann residence or visit the shops the Swanns did, just on the off chance that he might see her. To look upon her, even if they didn't exchange words...it still brought him happiness, knowing that he could be in the same room as her, but now, at the same time he felt that happiness, there was a stabbing pain, so deep a feeling of loss. How could it be that he could feel the two together? And that, if anything, the happiness only made him feel more keenly the loss? How could such a contradiction exist?
“I must go,” Elizabeth said, withdrawing her hand. Norrington looked up meeting her gaze, and nodding. She stepped back and turned, Norrington a step behind, as she made her way out the open door, a state which made Norrington cringe, even though there had been no one stationed outside.
Stopping just outside Elizabeth turned around, “I wish there was something I could do-“
“I will be fine,” he said, not feeling it at all to be true, even though he hoped that it would be. Eventually it would be, after all, most people loved at some point and lost. It was not a burden they would bear for the rest of their lives, and he knew neither would he. Some day. Once her footsteps faded, he shut the door and leaned back against it.
But if he had thought that would be the end of it for the evening, today was quickly become a day of disappointment and being proven wrong repeatedly.
“James?” Very few of his officers would dare ask for him by given name, especially at a time like this. But Gillette seemed to have unhealthy lack of propriety. Though the man himself would insist that the lack of it was, in fact, rather healthy.
Norrington rolled his eyes, unsure why he was willing to tolerate the other man's company at this point. At the moment he wanted to return to his glass, fill it up, and tuck in. Instead he opened the door and moved out of the way just in time to avoid being pushed in by Gillette, who simply made his way over to an empty chair by the desk and sat down in it, looking up expectantly at the Commodore.
They sat and stood where they were, in a stand off, each waiting for the other to speak and all too aware of what the other was waiting for. Gillette, ever the more impatient, broke first.
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing,” Norrington said.
Gillette glanced over at the desk and picked up the glass and sniffed at its contents. “Bit early, you think?” He asked raising the glass towards Norrington.
Norrington snorted, and quickly cleared his throat, hoping that it would appear to be enough reason to bring the handkerchief up to his face. Gillette gaze softened, and he looked away, pretending not to notice.
“I know you feel like doing nothing, and I know that this, which by the bye, doesn't fit the definition of doing nothing, both seem like pretty good options at this point but they don't actually help. Trust me, I have been there.”
“I know.”
“James, if you don't want to talk-”
“No, no, I appreciate it, I just don't...have anything to say.”
Gillette nodded, “we all handle it differently, which is why I just want you to know that I'm here.”
“I know,” Norrington said. He stepped over to the desk and set himself down on the floor his back against the desk and heedless of what was on the ground and he might now be sitting upon, “and thank you for not telling me that you told me so.”
“Told you what?” Gillette said innocently, “I hardly think there has ever been a time where we disagreed and I was correct about anything.”
Norrington guffawed, “Can you take that back and save it for later when I really need it?”
“Not a chance,” Gillette said, pleased with managing to elicit laughter from his solemn commander, “I should never live it down were I forced to say it in public.”
“Oh, you would say it in front of the Admiralty and enjoy it, if I told you to.” Gillette shrugged at the suggestion, and the two lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, Norrington miles away and slipping back into his silent brooding.
“At least,” Gillette said, picking up the decanter and topping off the glass before handing it to Norrington, “she knows how you feel. It took a lot of courage for you to ask her.”
Norrington accepted the offered glass and drained it before he answered, “Well, that does not change the fact that everything about this has been a disaster. Starting with the proposal.”
“Yes, well, that ladies faint at the mere thought you might propose to them is not of itself necessarily a bad thing.”
Norrington closed his eyes and let his head thump back against the desk, “I know I shall eventually get over this. Eventually...it won't hurt so damned much, that she chose him over myself, and that I have myself made it so that the two of them can be together. I know, that's quite low of me to think-“
“It's human.”
“-but I still love her and I do not wish to stop. I don't wish to get over her. She's the only woman I can ever love.” Norrington looked up, hoping that Gillette would tell him it was the same with him, and that yes, that would eventually end as well.
Gillette stared at the decanter as if it had been the end result of a midshipman's prank at his expense, “Actually do you mind if I have a glass?” Norrington waved Gillette ahead.
“I know, such folly, and you'd think it's like I'm a child with my first crush,” he said watching Gillette pour himself a glass and begin drinking, “and I don't know when exactly I knew I loved her. Certainly not the first time we met, and I don't think I ever realised, well not until she was very sick. Do you remember that?”
Gillette simply grunted and went back to drinking.
“That's when I realised....how worried I was, how much it would affect me if she died. That's when I knew without a doubt that I was in love with her. It was so gradual, like boiling water. I didn't realise until it was scalding already...and well, now look. Burned by it.”
Gillette put his glass down, “you can do better than her.”
Norrington narrowed his eyes at Gillette, “we are not going there, not again, not now.”
“James, she used you. She knew you had feelings for her. Hell, there isn't a single person in all of Port Royale who wasn't blind who couldn't see that. Not only did she know that you had those feelings-“
“Wesley, I don't want to talk about this,” Norrington pinched his nose, feeling a headache coming on, unsure if it was the brandy, or the topic, or both.
“She took advantage of them to save Turner. Not to mention all the men who died so that we could save them, or the fact that she failed to mention the dangers we all faced.”
Norrington stared stonily ahead, unwilling to concede that, yes, Elizabeth had by omission lied about the curse and the full extent of the dangers and difficulties. If things had gone ill in the cave, it was likely all on board the Dauntless would have died. He loved her, and she could do no wrong...but rationally he knew that she could. And had. And the rejection hurt, yet he still loved her despite it, and he had the sickening feeling that no matter what she did, whether wrong or if it hurt him, he would still run back to her, always forgiving her because he loved her.
“No one is perfect,” he said softly.
“I know,” Gillette sighed, “but some people come so damn close, and when they fail to notice you...”
Norrington turned his head to watch the lievtenant.
“You can think that you're over them many a time, but the longer you stay near them, despite the pain of them not knowing or noticing, the pain of realising they shall never love you, it's a scab that is never allowed to heal, instead constantly being ripped open and salt rubbed into the wound. There is a point when...when eventually you have to leave.”
For the second time that night Norrington felt his stomach drop. He did not like where this was going.
“If it is all right, when you and the Dauntless go after Sparrow tomorrow morning, I'd like to remain at Fort Charles. I've...written to my cousin and I should be getting orders for a transfer.”
“Of course,” Norrington said. So tempted was he to say, 'I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have said anything if I had known.' he would not say them because he knew them to be false. He had...more than once or twice suspected that his friends feelings might run...deeper. But he was his friend, and...he was there for him when he needed him no matter what-even if that what was Elizabeth. He only wished that...it could have hurt his friend less...that he could have hurt him not at all.
“You can not think of it at all, nor mention it,” Gillette stood from his chair and put the glass down, “if there is nothing else, sir?”
“No,” Norrington said, startled by the abrupt switch to protocol, and truth be told, a bit hurt. For a conversation like they had propriety or not...he did not want Gillette to simply treat him as his superior officer, they were friends, too. But there was no time to say that for scarcely had he spoken and Gillette was already out the door, pausing only long enough to close it, and leave Norrington with his half gone brandy, and his thoughts.
He reached out and pulled his long legs up to him, resting his head on his knees. It was a position he hadn't slumped into since he was told that his parents were gone and likely dead. He could feel his eyes prickling and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall. The pain was still there, stronger than before, and it seemed wrong that it didn't lessen with the tears. He had been hurt by Elizabeth, and without realising it, he had managed to hurt his best friend, as well.
Back when Gillette and he had been lads, both midshipmen in the navy...there had been an exchange. Norrington could not remember what sad event had prompted it, only that he had stupidly confessed that he was upset about something. When he then refused to say what the issue was when Gillette asked, he had added that he was there for Norrington if he needed him. Just another in a long string of mistakes that he hadn't left it as was and mumbled some thanks and rushed off. Instead he spoke the truth, and had come as close to baring his soul as he ever had.
“I know, and that is what worries me,” Norrington said quietly.
“That you need others?” Gillette asked, cocking his head before grinning, “Or that we might turn out to be lunatics with much the same issues?”
“That I shall do say something stupid and hurt others.”
And wasn't that just it? Either he got hurt, or someone else did, and in the end, everyone leaves. That was how it always worked when there were close attachments with others. He should have worked harder to avoid connections with his subordinates, with his crew, with Miss Swann, with the Governor. He'd already learnt that lesson, and yet he had done nothing, in fact, he'd done quite the opposite with Elizabeth and Gillette, ergo he had been hurt, and hurt another. And now Gillette wanted a transfer. How long before Elizabeth came to her senses and decided she didn't want to be around him?
When it came down to it...he would have rather been the sole person hurt instead of ever causing hurt for another. Because, ironically, it was less painful to be hurt by others, than it was to know he had caused others pain. And because he knew he could bear the pain.
Norrington retrieved the glass from his desk and refilled it again. He could deal with the pain.
Author: Hildwyn
Rating: T
Characters: Norrington, Elizabeth, Gillette
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: At the end of Curse of the Black Pearl, Norrington speaks with Elizabeth, and laments his loss and shares his pain with Gillette. Some feelings mentioned that would deal with non-canon pairings.
“This is where your heart truly lies then?”
“It is.”
“James,” the soft dulcet voice that could belong to no other, and the tentative knock on the door to his office brought Norrington's gaze up from the tumbler in his hand. The marines were supposed...ah. He'd forgotten that shortly after his first drink he'd poked his head out and told the sentries to leave. He didn't need any ears witness to any emotional outburst he may have, especially if were the sounds of glass shattering and objects being thrown around. Apparently an unfounded fear. Everything in his office was intact.
Except him.
He blinked rapidly, cursing at Miss Swann's incredible ability to time time her visit for when he was least prepared to speak with her: after three glasses: a lapse in judgment, and an incredible lapse in emotion.
“James?” The voice asked again, the same tone creeping in as it always had when she'd been a stubborn and inquisitive child on board the Dauntless, always wanting to know more about how the ship functioned, or wanting to know more about any pirates he may have dealt with. It was that tone that she would use that foretold she would be following him around until she got the answer she wanted, or until he was 'rescued' by Governor Swann. In truth though...he had never minded. She had been a breath of fresh air compared with most of the people he had had to deal with-smart, quick, kind...what so many simply were not.
Taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes, he quickly composed himself. He placed the tumbler down on the desk he was perched on, and stood and walked to the door. His shoes scraped ever so slightly against the cool stone floor. Closing his eyes he took a calming breath before he opened the door to reveal Miss Swann standing alone outside.
“James....” Elizabeth paused when she took note of his face, the slight swelling to his eyes and redness to his cheeks, “are you alright?”
Norrington was taken aback by the question. Was he alright? Of course he wasn't. He wanted to fall to the floor and dissolve into a puddle that would evaporate away into the air, and simply cease to be! He wanted this terrible feeling inside of him to stop, because the rest of him should physically break apart! One should not be able to feel so much pain and continue on as a whole. But to say so...
“I'm fine,” he said softly, his breath hardly more than a whisper. He stepped backwards into the room and turned away from Elizabeth, his feet acting as if they had a mind of their own, and all that they wanted was to put more distance between him and the one who had utterly broken him. He stopped at his table, his gaze down at his glass. He heard the soft steps of Elizabeth behind him. She had apparently interpreted his actions as an invitation to enter.
“Oh James...” Her voice was soft, softer than usual. “James, if I could have....I would have found a better time...” he felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before it slid over to rest against his shoulder blade.
“I didn't want to hurt you.”
Norrington nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. He wanted more than anything to tell her that she didn't hurt him, he didn't want her to bear that burden...but that was not the truth, and it would be a transparent lie. And he could not do that to her either. Silence seemed the best option.
“You are one of the most honourable men I know.” One of, not the. No doubt that position was reserved for Turner. Turner, who showed such honour by commandeering a vessel, engaging in acts of piracy, and freeing prisoners. Turner who...no, these was not becoming thoughts to be having.
“I just want you to be happy,” he said softly, and that I could have been what you wanted, “And I would...if you would...” he straightened, though still avoided turning to look at her, “I do not wish to lose your...friendship. I treasure it.”
Elizabeth's hand dropped from his back, and for a moment, he felt his heart plunge down through his body, past his stomach and straight through to the floor, and suddenly he felt sick. She wishes no more contact with me, how could I be so-
She moved around him, her hand touching the front of his shoulder, lightly pressing him back moving into his view.
“James, I treasure our friendship, too. You are a fine man. And I would have married you, but...” Elizabeth stopped.
But I released you from your promise, he finished mentally for Elizabeth. If he had not, there was no question that she would have honoured her word.
“I did what anyone else would have in the same situation.”
“No,” Elizabeth said with small smile, “and for that I am grateful.”
Norrington stood with Elizabeth next to him, for how long he was not sure. Long enough that he let his eyes drop back to the desk, finding looking at Elizabeth to be too painful. Looking at her, seeing her, had always made his day brighter; it reminded him of why he did his duty. He had even gone out of his way to find reasons to visit the Swann residence or visit the shops the Swanns did, just on the off chance that he might see her. To look upon her, even if they didn't exchange words...it still brought him happiness, knowing that he could be in the same room as her, but now, at the same time he felt that happiness, there was a stabbing pain, so deep a feeling of loss. How could it be that he could feel the two together? And that, if anything, the happiness only made him feel more keenly the loss? How could such a contradiction exist?
“I must go,” Elizabeth said, withdrawing her hand. Norrington looked up meeting her gaze, and nodding. She stepped back and turned, Norrington a step behind, as she made her way out the open door, a state which made Norrington cringe, even though there had been no one stationed outside.
Stopping just outside Elizabeth turned around, “I wish there was something I could do-“
“I will be fine,” he said, not feeling it at all to be true, even though he hoped that it would be. Eventually it would be, after all, most people loved at some point and lost. It was not a burden they would bear for the rest of their lives, and he knew neither would he. Some day. Once her footsteps faded, he shut the door and leaned back against it.
But if he had thought that would be the end of it for the evening, today was quickly become a day of disappointment and being proven wrong repeatedly.
“James?” Very few of his officers would dare ask for him by given name, especially at a time like this. But Gillette seemed to have unhealthy lack of propriety. Though the man himself would insist that the lack of it was, in fact, rather healthy.
Norrington rolled his eyes, unsure why he was willing to tolerate the other man's company at this point. At the moment he wanted to return to his glass, fill it up, and tuck in. Instead he opened the door and moved out of the way just in time to avoid being pushed in by Gillette, who simply made his way over to an empty chair by the desk and sat down in it, looking up expectantly at the Commodore.
They sat and stood where they were, in a stand off, each waiting for the other to speak and all too aware of what the other was waiting for. Gillette, ever the more impatient, broke first.
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing,” Norrington said.
Gillette glanced over at the desk and picked up the glass and sniffed at its contents. “Bit early, you think?” He asked raising the glass towards Norrington.
Norrington snorted, and quickly cleared his throat, hoping that it would appear to be enough reason to bring the handkerchief up to his face. Gillette gaze softened, and he looked away, pretending not to notice.
“I know you feel like doing nothing, and I know that this, which by the bye, doesn't fit the definition of doing nothing, both seem like pretty good options at this point but they don't actually help. Trust me, I have been there.”
“I know.”
“James, if you don't want to talk-”
“No, no, I appreciate it, I just don't...have anything to say.”
Gillette nodded, “we all handle it differently, which is why I just want you to know that I'm here.”
“I know,” Norrington said. He stepped over to the desk and set himself down on the floor his back against the desk and heedless of what was on the ground and he might now be sitting upon, “and thank you for not telling me that you told me so.”
“Told you what?” Gillette said innocently, “I hardly think there has ever been a time where we disagreed and I was correct about anything.”
Norrington guffawed, “Can you take that back and save it for later when I really need it?”
“Not a chance,” Gillette said, pleased with managing to elicit laughter from his solemn commander, “I should never live it down were I forced to say it in public.”
“Oh, you would say it in front of the Admiralty and enjoy it, if I told you to.” Gillette shrugged at the suggestion, and the two lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, Norrington miles away and slipping back into his silent brooding.
“At least,” Gillette said, picking up the decanter and topping off the glass before handing it to Norrington, “she knows how you feel. It took a lot of courage for you to ask her.”
Norrington accepted the offered glass and drained it before he answered, “Well, that does not change the fact that everything about this has been a disaster. Starting with the proposal.”
“Yes, well, that ladies faint at the mere thought you might propose to them is not of itself necessarily a bad thing.”
Norrington closed his eyes and let his head thump back against the desk, “I know I shall eventually get over this. Eventually...it won't hurt so damned much, that she chose him over myself, and that I have myself made it so that the two of them can be together. I know, that's quite low of me to think-“
“It's human.”
“-but I still love her and I do not wish to stop. I don't wish to get over her. She's the only woman I can ever love.” Norrington looked up, hoping that Gillette would tell him it was the same with him, and that yes, that would eventually end as well.
Gillette stared at the decanter as if it had been the end result of a midshipman's prank at his expense, “Actually do you mind if I have a glass?” Norrington waved Gillette ahead.
“I know, such folly, and you'd think it's like I'm a child with my first crush,” he said watching Gillette pour himself a glass and begin drinking, “and I don't know when exactly I knew I loved her. Certainly not the first time we met, and I don't think I ever realised, well not until she was very sick. Do you remember that?”
Gillette simply grunted and went back to drinking.
“That's when I realised....how worried I was, how much it would affect me if she died. That's when I knew without a doubt that I was in love with her. It was so gradual, like boiling water. I didn't realise until it was scalding already...and well, now look. Burned by it.”
Gillette put his glass down, “you can do better than her.”
Norrington narrowed his eyes at Gillette, “we are not going there, not again, not now.”
“James, she used you. She knew you had feelings for her. Hell, there isn't a single person in all of Port Royale who wasn't blind who couldn't see that. Not only did she know that you had those feelings-“
“Wesley, I don't want to talk about this,” Norrington pinched his nose, feeling a headache coming on, unsure if it was the brandy, or the topic, or both.
“She took advantage of them to save Turner. Not to mention all the men who died so that we could save them, or the fact that she failed to mention the dangers we all faced.”
Norrington stared stonily ahead, unwilling to concede that, yes, Elizabeth had by omission lied about the curse and the full extent of the dangers and difficulties. If things had gone ill in the cave, it was likely all on board the Dauntless would have died. He loved her, and she could do no wrong...but rationally he knew that she could. And had. And the rejection hurt, yet he still loved her despite it, and he had the sickening feeling that no matter what she did, whether wrong or if it hurt him, he would still run back to her, always forgiving her because he loved her.
“No one is perfect,” he said softly.
“I know,” Gillette sighed, “but some people come so damn close, and when they fail to notice you...”
Norrington turned his head to watch the lievtenant.
“You can think that you're over them many a time, but the longer you stay near them, despite the pain of them not knowing or noticing, the pain of realising they shall never love you, it's a scab that is never allowed to heal, instead constantly being ripped open and salt rubbed into the wound. There is a point when...when eventually you have to leave.”
For the second time that night Norrington felt his stomach drop. He did not like where this was going.
“If it is all right, when you and the Dauntless go after Sparrow tomorrow morning, I'd like to remain at Fort Charles. I've...written to my cousin and I should be getting orders for a transfer.”
“Of course,” Norrington said. So tempted was he to say, 'I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have said anything if I had known.' he would not say them because he knew them to be false. He had...more than once or twice suspected that his friends feelings might run...deeper. But he was his friend, and...he was there for him when he needed him no matter what-even if that what was Elizabeth. He only wished that...it could have hurt his friend less...that he could have hurt him not at all.
“You can not think of it at all, nor mention it,” Gillette stood from his chair and put the glass down, “if there is nothing else, sir?”
“No,” Norrington said, startled by the abrupt switch to protocol, and truth be told, a bit hurt. For a conversation like they had propriety or not...he did not want Gillette to simply treat him as his superior officer, they were friends, too. But there was no time to say that for scarcely had he spoken and Gillette was already out the door, pausing only long enough to close it, and leave Norrington with his half gone brandy, and his thoughts.
He reached out and pulled his long legs up to him, resting his head on his knees. It was a position he hadn't slumped into since he was told that his parents were gone and likely dead. He could feel his eyes prickling and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall. The pain was still there, stronger than before, and it seemed wrong that it didn't lessen with the tears. He had been hurt by Elizabeth, and without realising it, he had managed to hurt his best friend, as well.
Back when Gillette and he had been lads, both midshipmen in the navy...there had been an exchange. Norrington could not remember what sad event had prompted it, only that he had stupidly confessed that he was upset about something. When he then refused to say what the issue was when Gillette asked, he had added that he was there for Norrington if he needed him. Just another in a long string of mistakes that he hadn't left it as was and mumbled some thanks and rushed off. Instead he spoke the truth, and had come as close to baring his soul as he ever had.
“I know, and that is what worries me,” Norrington said quietly.
“That you need others?” Gillette asked, cocking his head before grinning, “Or that we might turn out to be lunatics with much the same issues?”
“That I shall do say something stupid and hurt others.”
And wasn't that just it? Either he got hurt, or someone else did, and in the end, everyone leaves. That was how it always worked when there were close attachments with others. He should have worked harder to avoid connections with his subordinates, with his crew, with Miss Swann, with the Governor. He'd already learnt that lesson, and yet he had done nothing, in fact, he'd done quite the opposite with Elizabeth and Gillette, ergo he had been hurt, and hurt another. And now Gillette wanted a transfer. How long before Elizabeth came to her senses and decided she didn't want to be around him?
When it came down to it...he would have rather been the sole person hurt instead of ever causing hurt for another. Because, ironically, it was less painful to be hurt by others, than it was to know he had caused others pain. And because he knew he could bear the pain.
Norrington retrieved the glass from his desk and refilled it again. He could deal with the pain.