The Challenge: Chapter 1
Title: The Challenge
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: Intent upon better knowing his enemy, after a close shave wherein the commodore’s fleet nearly caught his Pearl, Jack Sparrow climbs James’ trellis, but finds that he’s underestimated the good commodore. Of course, James was being unfairly distracting, what with the nudity and all.
Warnings: James is naked. You’re welcome.
Note: This was just yet another whim I started working on whilst I was writing something else, namely: Beyond the Horizon. It’s been a pretty placid plot bunny, coming together very slowly and without many demands on me. For a while I was actually convinced that I did not like this story and that I’d never post it, which was just as well, because it also seemed likely that I would just never finish it. So I abandoned it. Then, after a few weeks, I let the whim take me again, reread what I had, proofread and polished and re-worked here and there and...yea, I looked upon my work and saw it was good.
When he had first arrived in the Caribbean, Lieutenant James Norrington had fallen in love with the nights here, so different from the cooler ones in England: sultry and warm. Even when it was still and windless and swelteringly hot in the summer, the nights felt somehow luxuriant.
Now, as Commodore, James enjoyed a greater measure of privacy on shore, which almost helped to compensate for the fact that he was kept on land more often than he was put out on the sea. Privacy now allowed him to fully appreciate the caribbean night, which he was separated from by no more than a thin and soft white linen sheet: one of few purely hedonistic indulgences he still allowed himself.
He could tell that Jack Sparrow was more surprised by the indulgence, and James’ nudity, than by the way James had instantly snapped awake and pointed a pistol at his head when the pirate climbed up to James’ open window. James made a mental note to remove that trellis, for all that he would miss the jasmine vine that climbed it; another indulgence, equally as sultry as the Jamaican night air when the vine went into bloom and made the air heavy with its perfume, as it did tonight.
“Sparrow. Why am I not surprised? Perhaps because of the distinct the sound of those ridiculous decorations in your hair as you made your climb; I will have you know that they do not aid your stealth in the least.”
Jack paused, eyes growing comically wide as he took in the sight of the man on the bed. If not for that oh-so-recognizable voice and those pretty green eyes, Jack might have assumed, at first glance, that he had the wrong house. His well-rehearsed lines, with which he had planned to confront, question, and perhaps lightly threaten the proper English commodore, as well as his purpose and his own name, all vanished from Jack’s mind for a single glorious moment.
Slowly, Jack Sparrow’s senses returned, and he was able to remember the full context in which he was seeing such a beautiful vision as this. He came to the realization that the commodore hid some truly marvelous things under that polished officer’s uniform. He would also be willing to bet that even more marvels were yet still concealed under the clean white sheet that covered Norrington from the waist down.
“If you are done gaping, Mr. Sparrow, I would suggest you tell me what on earth possessed you into climbing my trellis in the middle of the night.” James’ expression was a cold mask, and he held the pistol very steady. He showed no outward sign that his pulse was pumping hard, its pace rapid.
“Captain Sparrow,” Jack corrected. Without looking away from James, the pirate pulled himself the rest of the way over the windowsill with exaggerated slowness, and landed quietly on the floor. Straightening his ragged coat, he took two steps closer to the commodore’s bed.
James cocked the pistol and narrowed his gaze warningly.
Jack just barely resisted the urge to pout, and reluctantly recalled his original intentions for this evening: know thy enemy, reach an understanding with him, et cetera. After clearing his throat and looking around at the rest of the room to get his bearings and distract himself from studying the lines of Norrington’s body (both bare skin and what tempting hints were visible under that thin white sheet) Jack began to explain, “I’m here, commodore, for the simple reason that I am alive and not a corpse hanging about on display in Dead Man’s Cay as, so it seemed to me at first, you thought t’would be my only proper place.”
He looked James in the eye again, having regained his focus. “And while I am not in the least bit ungrateful--let me assure you of that, love--I am inclined to wonder what the reasons were for a man of the law such as yerself, who so wanted me caught and strung up, to see fit to letting me go, only to then chase me so intently all of a sudden.” Despite the playfulness of his circuitous speech, he was deadly serious. “I can’t fathom it, y’see. You’re not arrogant or stupid enough to let me go with one day’s head start thinking you could then catch up with the Black Pearl, because ye know her to be the fastest ship in these waters. That, I assume, is why you’ve mostly just sent out a few privateers after me instead of yourself and your own men, with this most recent notable and clever exception.” Jack took yet another step closer, this time tilting his head to one side as he tried without much success to read James through that cool and inscrutable mask that the commodore still wore.
“So you sought to catch me off-guard, in the privacy of my home, and question me personally, probably at gunpoint,” James surmised.
Jack pressed his hands together in front of his chest, and tilted his head down slightly as he gave that odd little bow of his. “Quite right, mate.” His grin, however, was sharp and dangerous this time.
“You underestimated me, then.” James glanced significantly at his pistol, a mocking acknowledgement that the tables had been turned. “I am a sailor myself, Mr. Sparrow, and I have not survived, in both hunting pirates and fighting wars, as long as I have purely by chance. I sleep lightly.”
Wincing at the lack of proper title, Jack gave an exasperated and annoyed sigh. “Aye.” Then he looked the commodore over again, with undisguised lusty interest. “I’ve underestimated a number of your qualities, it would seem, and for that I am most sorry.” For not trying to seduce you earlier in our acquaintance. He leered even as he added, “But I think I’ve begun to see more clearly now, commodore, and I do doubt that you will kill me without proper provocation, ay?” Not here. This is not your killing ground. Not if neither of us want to make it one, and I don’t think we do.
James cursed mentally at the effects on his body caused by the pirate’s hungry stare and wicked, promising grin. He felt too exposed, too sensitized by the heady sensuality of the Jamaican night, and the smells of sea air and jasmine that wafted in through his window; it was threatening to tempt his thoughts into dangerous places: under the pirate’s clothing, for instance. He sat up further, keeping his pistol aimed at the pirate, but bent one leg up to rest his elbow on, so that the sheet draped less revealingly across his lap. His expression remained perfectly masked, and he could see to his satisfaction that it was beginning to bother Jack Sparrow that this commodore was not so easy to read this time, without Elizabeth Swann nearby to (unintentionally or not, he recalled with a mental wince) crack open his armor. “If you prove a threat to me, I will not hesitate in the least to shoot you,” James said bluntly. It was not a lie.
“And if I swear to you, by the bow of my ship, that I mean no harm to you or anyone else here in Port Royal, not even a bit of theft this time, what then, commodore?” Jack inquired, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice and leap out the window again if need be.
Without Elizabeth or anyone else providing distraction, and with his past acquaintance with the pirate having educated him well, James found that he could now read Jack Sparrow quite clearly: the way those be-ringed hands tightly gripped the lapels of his coat, fidgeting with nerves rather than flourish at the moment, the rough edge of reluctance in Jack’s voice that showed him to be out of his element because he was being all too sincere, and the wary way that he shifted his weight toward the window behind him, prepared to flee.
Jack could see that he was being read too well, for all that he could not glean more information than that from the commodore’s look, which made the pirate even more uneasy. He wondered if this little visit might have been a mistake.
Lowering his pistol, but not letting it go or un-cocking it, James replied, rather quietly, “I did not want so desperately to see you hang. You have misinterpreted that.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Well, in the past it hasn’ quite seemed that ye were well disposed towards me, mate. Not from where I was standing.”
James nodded with a somber expression. “That is because one of the foremost qualities leading to my becoming the youngest commodore in this hemisphere has been my ability to lie convincingly, and thus convey the proper message to those under my command. You, of all people, can appreciate that, I am sure.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “How old are ye?”
“One-and-thirty.”
Jack’s face fell open into a look of surprise. He gave a low, impressed whistle. “You really shouldn’t wear that damned wig, commodore. It ads so many years that I’d have never guessed you to be younger than I.”
“Nor would most men. It is one area wherein most people, for a change, overestimate me.” James resisted the urge to smirk, but only just barely. Letting himself get smug and cocky had led him into trouble with this pirate before and he would not make that mistake again. “If anyone truly and passionately wanted to see you to the noose, it was Governor Swann. For all that he is a good governor, and a sharp politician, he is also very narrow-minded. He does not give thought to matters of right and wrong nearly so much as he does to matters of image and propriety; at times, I think he considers those categories interchangeable. And as my patron, and a man with political connections that far exceed my own, because I am not in any way a politician...” James hesitated, and a look of irritation and frustration involuntarily crossed his features for a moment. “Let us just say that Governor Swann has a sort of noose around my neck as well. He uses the rope as a sort of leash. While I did love Elizabeth Swann in earnest, and in my way I still do, marriage to her would have also provided me the means to put myself on equal political footing with the governor, if not better because Elizabeth can out-maneuver and run persuasive circles around her father, manipulating him as no one else can. She was, in that way, my chance at freedom.” Again, James hesitated, this time sadly, before adding, “My only chance, at the time.” Then he arched a brow, his cold mask in place once more, and his voice again commanding and sharp. “Do you savvy, Captain Sparrow?”
For Jack, understanding dawned. Oh. Well, very good then: he had come here tonight in order to unsettle and better understand his enemy--the commodore who had come uncomfortably close to killing him, more than once. Now Jack merely had to decide what he wanted to do about what all he now knew, especially since it was so different than what he had expected to discover. This time the appraising look that he gave the commodore was one of slightly bemused wonder, trying to work out how a fine man like this had ended up in the navy; he really wanted to know, if only to better work out a way of stealing him away, because now Jack was well and truly interested--enchanted, even. And how could he be expected to resist such a lovely prize as this?
“Aye,” the pirate murmured thoughtfully. “I see, then. You could not stand ‘tween him and me, or he could not only make your life worse, but also prevent ye from marrying Elizabeth and thus slipping out from under his thumb.” Jack relaxed somewhat, a rare look of something akin to regret shadowing his features. “I savvy, commodore.” His dark gaze seemed softer, but no less solemn. “Let me just say to you that it has never been my intent to take from anyone his freedom, even indirectly.” Again, he gave that odd little bow, but slowly and with more sincerity this time. “My apologies, for that.”
James swallowed, tightly, and nodded, but did not say a word; but although he could sense Sparrow’s sincerity, James’ suspicion and battle-ready control did note wane in the least, even as his actual hostility did.
“However,” Jack adds after a thoughtful pause. Now there was an oddly bright, wicked and greedy gleam in his impish black eyes. “I cannot help but wonder if you’ve properly considered all of your alternatives, mate.” He smiled, gold-edged and enticing. “For freedom that is.”
“I assume that you mean to recommend to me a life of piracy.” James smiled, but the bitterness of it made the expression very cold. “Even if I were to ignore the moral arguments, Captain Sparrow, I have two elder brothers in the navy, one of them even now well on his way to becoming an admiral like our father. If I were to turn pirate and thus tarnish the family name, both of them would take it upon themselves to personally hunt me down and see me hanged. I do not fancy the sort of freedom that comes with the restrictions of spending the rest of my days fleeing from my own vengeful family members.”
Ah, so that’s how the navy got its hands on this one, then. Damn; he’s been trapped pretty well, too. Jack was looking intently into James’ eyes, now, but his mind was partway elsewhere, plotting like mad. “Aye, that does present a slight problem, then.” He would need a great deal of rum and some serious time to think it over, to come up with an ingeniously clever plan.
Wearily, James ran his free hand through his hair, sighing in the manner of a man much older than one-and-thirty. “Does that satisfy your curiosity, then, Captain?”
“My curiosity, Commodore, is insatiable,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again, now standing at the foot of James’ bed. “But you have answered my original question, which was originally all I wanted.”
James’ spine straightened, sudden wariness making his muscles tense. He glared suspiciously at the pirate. Low and warning, he rumbled, “Sparrow...”
“Now, now, are we back to that again already, Norrington? We were doing so well.” Jack sidled around the corner of the bed to stand next to the commodore.
Again James lifted the gun, pointing it at Jack. “That was before you began prowling towards me with that look on your face,” he countered. “You are up to something and I do not trust that in the least.”
Jack raised both hands in the air, palms-forward with his most harmless-looking smile. “I still mean no harm, mate. In fact, as I see it, I more than owe you one, between the accidental destruction of the little ship I stole and this...weightier matter of what I took without knowing.” He half-winced at the thought.
His expression dark and cautionary, but James set his gun aside, out of Jack’s reach but still within his own, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. James tried to read Jack’s eyes, this time with an intent and slightly reckless inquisitiveness. “What are you plotting?” he demanded.
At this point, Jack appreciated the commodore’s sharpness. Sure, it was a dangerous quality to have in one’s opponent, but that had never stopped Jack from pursuing treasure before. “Why do you think I came here, commodore?”
“I am still working that out. Somewhere along the line, your intentions changed, but I doubt that I will know for sure what it was or what it now is: at least, not before you have made what will be your doubtlessly theatrical exit.”
Very smart indeed. Jack wondered idly what the commodore’s given name was. He would have to ask Elizabeth at some point, or perhaps find some other means. “Unless I tell you outright, ay?”
“Almost anything you admit to aloud is suspect, Captain.”
How amusing, to see such a solemn, upright, proper, and near-threatening demeanor on an attractive sailor covered in naught but a linen sheet from the navel down. Jack wet his lips unconsciously. He was liking this commodore more and more. “You’re the only man in the British Navy whose managed to surprise me in nigh ten years, and that’s a dangerous thing, commodore.” His grin took on a dark, sultry edge. “Appealing, but dangerous.”
“How so?” James’ brow furrowed, mostly in confusion, but there were hints of interest and curiosity in that look as well: a hint of something more fiery beneath the surface, if only he could set aside that cold and steely control.
Jack was more than willing to offer him help with that. “You learn too quickly and I could tell that once ye weren’t distracted, you might very well come up with a trap just a little too clever for me to anticipate. You nearly managed to lay one out between Tortuga and the Isla de Muerta. That put me off-balance, you see: you thinkin’ too much like me. If not for the predictability of your lieutenants in comparison, and how easy they were to manipulate, you might’ve caught me.”
“Know thy enemy.” James unconsciously adjusted the sheet, better concealing himself from the pirate’s all-too-curious glances.
“Exactly why I am here, but more than that, I find to my pleasure and my surprise, that I am inclined to befriend my enemy in this case, in a way.” He gave wild, flourishing gestures to appease perceived accusations and disbelief. “Not that you’ll be willing to believe me right off, of course, not just on my piratical word; thus, I would like to make a peace offering of sorts.”
“I do not subscribe to the idea of knowing my enemy in the biblical sense, so if you would please keep your gaze aimed at places above my waist,” James growled.
“Then I will hope that you might be inclined to make me something other than your enemy, as your eyes have been doing a bit of wandering, too, this evening,” Jack countered, and his grin widened further at the way the commodore’s face reddened, even if it was cause as much by anger as embarrassment. Then, in more solemn tones, he inquired, “What would you say if I could find a way to provide you with freedom?”
James appeared taken aback by this. “And why would you do that?”
“Pirate,” Jack said, as though that explained everything. “I am very much in favor of liberating pretty and interesting things from their self-righteous owners.”
“You mean the navy in this case? You want to steal me from the navy?”
“Not all treasure is silver and gold, love. And in this case, I’m not planning outright theft; I just plan to find a better offer than your current one.”
“Have you considered that my morality and my loyalty to Port Royal might stand in your way?”
“And how much is morality and loyalty worth when they belong to a slave? Not much by the standards of your own country, I’ve learned.” Jack’s voice was cold.
“I am not-”
“Right now, you are, love,” Jack interrupted. “And it’s my own fault, it would seem. Without hope for your own freedom, you don’t ‘serve others, not only yourself’ as you once mentioned; instead, you currently serve others and not yourself. Think of that.” He rested his hands on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and into James’ personal space, but his look was serious instead of lecherous now. “So here’s what I propose to offer you, commodore; either find a way to free yourself within the next three months, or I will find one for you.”
James did not flinch, even when Jack’s face was a mere hand’s-width from his own. He swallowed silently around the lump in his throat. The pirate smelled enticingly of jasmine vine, rum, sea-salt, and exotic spices. “And If I cannot, or else simply do not accept your offered freedom, what then?”
“Then I might see about finding a way to steal you, instead, even if it means focusing the whole of my efforts upon destroying your career,” Jack said flatly. “In other words: we will remain enemies, and both suffer the worse for it, along with the people around us who get caught in the crossfire.”
James’ eyes narrowed into a steely jade glare. “You would be so determined, just to make me more miserable?”
“It would be a mutual choice, love: you would have no choice but to chase me for the sake of yourself and your navy, and I would have no choice but to retaliate and try to make you less of a threat to myself and me crew. The more ye failed to catch me, the more focused you’d have to become on catching me for the sake of career an’ reputation, and the more you threatened me then the more I’d have to focus on hindering you to survive. Savvy?”
After a slight hesitation, James gave a nod and assented, “Yes. However reluctantly.” His voice was edged in frustration.
“Three months, commodore.” Jack reached out to trace the line of James’ jaw with his fingertips, not quite able to hide his slight frown when the commodore half-flinched instinctively, but James did not actually pull away, which was encouraging. “I’ll be back for you.” Jack leaned in and caught the commodore’s lips firmly, just enough for a taste while the man’s lips were parted in a silent question (how was any honest pirate to resist such an opportunity as that?) and a lovely taste it was: the brush of warm lips and the brief, instinctive counter-slide of James’ tongue against his own for a moment as James inhaled sharply. It was enough, for now, to feel the flare of want in the other man before that naval control could again get its bearings: absolutely delicious. Then, before James could reach again for that pistol of his, Jack darted away and deftly leapt out the window, vanishing out into the night within mere seconds.
James stared after him for a long moment, his fingers following the path that Jack’s had taken, along the edge of his jaw. The commodore swallowed thickly around the strange knot of disappointment that had caused his throat to tighten as soon as Jack had pulled away. His thumb absently brushed his lower lip as confusion and conflict began to well up in his chest. Then he shook his head, his irritation returning anew. “Bloody pirate,” he cursed, and wrapped the sheet around his waist before going to close the window. He scanned the darkness outside for any trace of Jack Sparrow, and was strangely relieved to see none; he knew not what he might have done if the man had been visible, but he had a sinking suspicion that it would have been against all proper decorum.
Closing the window reluctantly, after inhaling once more lungful of jasmine-scented sea air, James returned to his bed and failed entirely to sleep.
Story Index || Next
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: Intent upon better knowing his enemy, after a close shave wherein the commodore’s fleet nearly caught his Pearl, Jack Sparrow climbs James’ trellis, but finds that he’s underestimated the good commodore. Of course, James was being unfairly distracting, what with the nudity and all.
Warnings: James is naked. You’re welcome.
Note: This was just yet another whim I started working on whilst I was writing something else, namely: Beyond the Horizon. It’s been a pretty placid plot bunny, coming together very slowly and without many demands on me. For a while I was actually convinced that I did not like this story and that I’d never post it, which was just as well, because it also seemed likely that I would just never finish it. So I abandoned it. Then, after a few weeks, I let the whim take me again, reread what I had, proofread and polished and re-worked here and there and...yea, I looked upon my work and saw it was good.
When he had first arrived in the Caribbean, Lieutenant James Norrington had fallen in love with the nights here, so different from the cooler ones in England: sultry and warm. Even when it was still and windless and swelteringly hot in the summer, the nights felt somehow luxuriant.
Now, as Commodore, James enjoyed a greater measure of privacy on shore, which almost helped to compensate for the fact that he was kept on land more often than he was put out on the sea. Privacy now allowed him to fully appreciate the caribbean night, which he was separated from by no more than a thin and soft white linen sheet: one of few purely hedonistic indulgences he still allowed himself.
He could tell that Jack Sparrow was more surprised by the indulgence, and James’ nudity, than by the way James had instantly snapped awake and pointed a pistol at his head when the pirate climbed up to James’ open window. James made a mental note to remove that trellis, for all that he would miss the jasmine vine that climbed it; another indulgence, equally as sultry as the Jamaican night air when the vine went into bloom and made the air heavy with its perfume, as it did tonight.
“Sparrow. Why am I not surprised? Perhaps because of the distinct the sound of those ridiculous decorations in your hair as you made your climb; I will have you know that they do not aid your stealth in the least.”
Jack paused, eyes growing comically wide as he took in the sight of the man on the bed. If not for that oh-so-recognizable voice and those pretty green eyes, Jack might have assumed, at first glance, that he had the wrong house. His well-rehearsed lines, with which he had planned to confront, question, and perhaps lightly threaten the proper English commodore, as well as his purpose and his own name, all vanished from Jack’s mind for a single glorious moment.
Slowly, Jack Sparrow’s senses returned, and he was able to remember the full context in which he was seeing such a beautiful vision as this. He came to the realization that the commodore hid some truly marvelous things under that polished officer’s uniform. He would also be willing to bet that even more marvels were yet still concealed under the clean white sheet that covered Norrington from the waist down.
“If you are done gaping, Mr. Sparrow, I would suggest you tell me what on earth possessed you into climbing my trellis in the middle of the night.” James’ expression was a cold mask, and he held the pistol very steady. He showed no outward sign that his pulse was pumping hard, its pace rapid.
“Captain Sparrow,” Jack corrected. Without looking away from James, the pirate pulled himself the rest of the way over the windowsill with exaggerated slowness, and landed quietly on the floor. Straightening his ragged coat, he took two steps closer to the commodore’s bed.
James cocked the pistol and narrowed his gaze warningly.
Jack just barely resisted the urge to pout, and reluctantly recalled his original intentions for this evening: know thy enemy, reach an understanding with him, et cetera. After clearing his throat and looking around at the rest of the room to get his bearings and distract himself from studying the lines of Norrington’s body (both bare skin and what tempting hints were visible under that thin white sheet) Jack began to explain, “I’m here, commodore, for the simple reason that I am alive and not a corpse hanging about on display in Dead Man’s Cay as, so it seemed to me at first, you thought t’would be my only proper place.”
He looked James in the eye again, having regained his focus. “And while I am not in the least bit ungrateful--let me assure you of that, love--I am inclined to wonder what the reasons were for a man of the law such as yerself, who so wanted me caught and strung up, to see fit to letting me go, only to then chase me so intently all of a sudden.” Despite the playfulness of his circuitous speech, he was deadly serious. “I can’t fathom it, y’see. You’re not arrogant or stupid enough to let me go with one day’s head start thinking you could then catch up with the Black Pearl, because ye know her to be the fastest ship in these waters. That, I assume, is why you’ve mostly just sent out a few privateers after me instead of yourself and your own men, with this most recent notable and clever exception.” Jack took yet another step closer, this time tilting his head to one side as he tried without much success to read James through that cool and inscrutable mask that the commodore still wore.
“So you sought to catch me off-guard, in the privacy of my home, and question me personally, probably at gunpoint,” James surmised.
Jack pressed his hands together in front of his chest, and tilted his head down slightly as he gave that odd little bow of his. “Quite right, mate.” His grin, however, was sharp and dangerous this time.
“You underestimated me, then.” James glanced significantly at his pistol, a mocking acknowledgement that the tables had been turned. “I am a sailor myself, Mr. Sparrow, and I have not survived, in both hunting pirates and fighting wars, as long as I have purely by chance. I sleep lightly.”
Wincing at the lack of proper title, Jack gave an exasperated and annoyed sigh. “Aye.” Then he looked the commodore over again, with undisguised lusty interest. “I’ve underestimated a number of your qualities, it would seem, and for that I am most sorry.” For not trying to seduce you earlier in our acquaintance. He leered even as he added, “But I think I’ve begun to see more clearly now, commodore, and I do doubt that you will kill me without proper provocation, ay?” Not here. This is not your killing ground. Not if neither of us want to make it one, and I don’t think we do.
James cursed mentally at the effects on his body caused by the pirate’s hungry stare and wicked, promising grin. He felt too exposed, too sensitized by the heady sensuality of the Jamaican night, and the smells of sea air and jasmine that wafted in through his window; it was threatening to tempt his thoughts into dangerous places: under the pirate’s clothing, for instance. He sat up further, keeping his pistol aimed at the pirate, but bent one leg up to rest his elbow on, so that the sheet draped less revealingly across his lap. His expression remained perfectly masked, and he could see to his satisfaction that it was beginning to bother Jack Sparrow that this commodore was not so easy to read this time, without Elizabeth Swann nearby to (unintentionally or not, he recalled with a mental wince) crack open his armor. “If you prove a threat to me, I will not hesitate in the least to shoot you,” James said bluntly. It was not a lie.
“And if I swear to you, by the bow of my ship, that I mean no harm to you or anyone else here in Port Royal, not even a bit of theft this time, what then, commodore?” Jack inquired, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice and leap out the window again if need be.
Without Elizabeth or anyone else providing distraction, and with his past acquaintance with the pirate having educated him well, James found that he could now read Jack Sparrow quite clearly: the way those be-ringed hands tightly gripped the lapels of his coat, fidgeting with nerves rather than flourish at the moment, the rough edge of reluctance in Jack’s voice that showed him to be out of his element because he was being all too sincere, and the wary way that he shifted his weight toward the window behind him, prepared to flee.
Jack could see that he was being read too well, for all that he could not glean more information than that from the commodore’s look, which made the pirate even more uneasy. He wondered if this little visit might have been a mistake.
Lowering his pistol, but not letting it go or un-cocking it, James replied, rather quietly, “I did not want so desperately to see you hang. You have misinterpreted that.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Well, in the past it hasn’ quite seemed that ye were well disposed towards me, mate. Not from where I was standing.”
James nodded with a somber expression. “That is because one of the foremost qualities leading to my becoming the youngest commodore in this hemisphere has been my ability to lie convincingly, and thus convey the proper message to those under my command. You, of all people, can appreciate that, I am sure.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “How old are ye?”
“One-and-thirty.”
Jack’s face fell open into a look of surprise. He gave a low, impressed whistle. “You really shouldn’t wear that damned wig, commodore. It ads so many years that I’d have never guessed you to be younger than I.”
“Nor would most men. It is one area wherein most people, for a change, overestimate me.” James resisted the urge to smirk, but only just barely. Letting himself get smug and cocky had led him into trouble with this pirate before and he would not make that mistake again. “If anyone truly and passionately wanted to see you to the noose, it was Governor Swann. For all that he is a good governor, and a sharp politician, he is also very narrow-minded. He does not give thought to matters of right and wrong nearly so much as he does to matters of image and propriety; at times, I think he considers those categories interchangeable. And as my patron, and a man with political connections that far exceed my own, because I am not in any way a politician...” James hesitated, and a look of irritation and frustration involuntarily crossed his features for a moment. “Let us just say that Governor Swann has a sort of noose around my neck as well. He uses the rope as a sort of leash. While I did love Elizabeth Swann in earnest, and in my way I still do, marriage to her would have also provided me the means to put myself on equal political footing with the governor, if not better because Elizabeth can out-maneuver and run persuasive circles around her father, manipulating him as no one else can. She was, in that way, my chance at freedom.” Again, James hesitated, this time sadly, before adding, “My only chance, at the time.” Then he arched a brow, his cold mask in place once more, and his voice again commanding and sharp. “Do you savvy, Captain Sparrow?”
For Jack, understanding dawned. Oh. Well, very good then: he had come here tonight in order to unsettle and better understand his enemy--the commodore who had come uncomfortably close to killing him, more than once. Now Jack merely had to decide what he wanted to do about what all he now knew, especially since it was so different than what he had expected to discover. This time the appraising look that he gave the commodore was one of slightly bemused wonder, trying to work out how a fine man like this had ended up in the navy; he really wanted to know, if only to better work out a way of stealing him away, because now Jack was well and truly interested--enchanted, even. And how could he be expected to resist such a lovely prize as this?
“Aye,” the pirate murmured thoughtfully. “I see, then. You could not stand ‘tween him and me, or he could not only make your life worse, but also prevent ye from marrying Elizabeth and thus slipping out from under his thumb.” Jack relaxed somewhat, a rare look of something akin to regret shadowing his features. “I savvy, commodore.” His dark gaze seemed softer, but no less solemn. “Let me just say to you that it has never been my intent to take from anyone his freedom, even indirectly.” Again, he gave that odd little bow, but slowly and with more sincerity this time. “My apologies, for that.”
James swallowed, tightly, and nodded, but did not say a word; but although he could sense Sparrow’s sincerity, James’ suspicion and battle-ready control did note wane in the least, even as his actual hostility did.
“However,” Jack adds after a thoughtful pause. Now there was an oddly bright, wicked and greedy gleam in his impish black eyes. “I cannot help but wonder if you’ve properly considered all of your alternatives, mate.” He smiled, gold-edged and enticing. “For freedom that is.”
“I assume that you mean to recommend to me a life of piracy.” James smiled, but the bitterness of it made the expression very cold. “Even if I were to ignore the moral arguments, Captain Sparrow, I have two elder brothers in the navy, one of them even now well on his way to becoming an admiral like our father. If I were to turn pirate and thus tarnish the family name, both of them would take it upon themselves to personally hunt me down and see me hanged. I do not fancy the sort of freedom that comes with the restrictions of spending the rest of my days fleeing from my own vengeful family members.”
Ah, so that’s how the navy got its hands on this one, then. Damn; he’s been trapped pretty well, too. Jack was looking intently into James’ eyes, now, but his mind was partway elsewhere, plotting like mad. “Aye, that does present a slight problem, then.” He would need a great deal of rum and some serious time to think it over, to come up with an ingeniously clever plan.
Wearily, James ran his free hand through his hair, sighing in the manner of a man much older than one-and-thirty. “Does that satisfy your curiosity, then, Captain?”
“My curiosity, Commodore, is insatiable,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again, now standing at the foot of James’ bed. “But you have answered my original question, which was originally all I wanted.”
James’ spine straightened, sudden wariness making his muscles tense. He glared suspiciously at the pirate. Low and warning, he rumbled, “Sparrow...”
“Now, now, are we back to that again already, Norrington? We were doing so well.” Jack sidled around the corner of the bed to stand next to the commodore.
Again James lifted the gun, pointing it at Jack. “That was before you began prowling towards me with that look on your face,” he countered. “You are up to something and I do not trust that in the least.”
Jack raised both hands in the air, palms-forward with his most harmless-looking smile. “I still mean no harm, mate. In fact, as I see it, I more than owe you one, between the accidental destruction of the little ship I stole and this...weightier matter of what I took without knowing.” He half-winced at the thought.
His expression dark and cautionary, but James set his gun aside, out of Jack’s reach but still within his own, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. James tried to read Jack’s eyes, this time with an intent and slightly reckless inquisitiveness. “What are you plotting?” he demanded.
At this point, Jack appreciated the commodore’s sharpness. Sure, it was a dangerous quality to have in one’s opponent, but that had never stopped Jack from pursuing treasure before. “Why do you think I came here, commodore?”
“I am still working that out. Somewhere along the line, your intentions changed, but I doubt that I will know for sure what it was or what it now is: at least, not before you have made what will be your doubtlessly theatrical exit.”
Very smart indeed. Jack wondered idly what the commodore’s given name was. He would have to ask Elizabeth at some point, or perhaps find some other means. “Unless I tell you outright, ay?”
“Almost anything you admit to aloud is suspect, Captain.”
How amusing, to see such a solemn, upright, proper, and near-threatening demeanor on an attractive sailor covered in naught but a linen sheet from the navel down. Jack wet his lips unconsciously. He was liking this commodore more and more. “You’re the only man in the British Navy whose managed to surprise me in nigh ten years, and that’s a dangerous thing, commodore.” His grin took on a dark, sultry edge. “Appealing, but dangerous.”
“How so?” James’ brow furrowed, mostly in confusion, but there were hints of interest and curiosity in that look as well: a hint of something more fiery beneath the surface, if only he could set aside that cold and steely control.
Jack was more than willing to offer him help with that. “You learn too quickly and I could tell that once ye weren’t distracted, you might very well come up with a trap just a little too clever for me to anticipate. You nearly managed to lay one out between Tortuga and the Isla de Muerta. That put me off-balance, you see: you thinkin’ too much like me. If not for the predictability of your lieutenants in comparison, and how easy they were to manipulate, you might’ve caught me.”
“Know thy enemy.” James unconsciously adjusted the sheet, better concealing himself from the pirate’s all-too-curious glances.
“Exactly why I am here, but more than that, I find to my pleasure and my surprise, that I am inclined to befriend my enemy in this case, in a way.” He gave wild, flourishing gestures to appease perceived accusations and disbelief. “Not that you’ll be willing to believe me right off, of course, not just on my piratical word; thus, I would like to make a peace offering of sorts.”
“I do not subscribe to the idea of knowing my enemy in the biblical sense, so if you would please keep your gaze aimed at places above my waist,” James growled.
“Then I will hope that you might be inclined to make me something other than your enemy, as your eyes have been doing a bit of wandering, too, this evening,” Jack countered, and his grin widened further at the way the commodore’s face reddened, even if it was cause as much by anger as embarrassment. Then, in more solemn tones, he inquired, “What would you say if I could find a way to provide you with freedom?”
James appeared taken aback by this. “And why would you do that?”
“Pirate,” Jack said, as though that explained everything. “I am very much in favor of liberating pretty and interesting things from their self-righteous owners.”
“You mean the navy in this case? You want to steal me from the navy?”
“Not all treasure is silver and gold, love. And in this case, I’m not planning outright theft; I just plan to find a better offer than your current one.”
“Have you considered that my morality and my loyalty to Port Royal might stand in your way?”
“And how much is morality and loyalty worth when they belong to a slave? Not much by the standards of your own country, I’ve learned.” Jack’s voice was cold.
“I am not-”
“Right now, you are, love,” Jack interrupted. “And it’s my own fault, it would seem. Without hope for your own freedom, you don’t ‘serve others, not only yourself’ as you once mentioned; instead, you currently serve others and not yourself. Think of that.” He rested his hands on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and into James’ personal space, but his look was serious instead of lecherous now. “So here’s what I propose to offer you, commodore; either find a way to free yourself within the next three months, or I will find one for you.”
James did not flinch, even when Jack’s face was a mere hand’s-width from his own. He swallowed silently around the lump in his throat. The pirate smelled enticingly of jasmine vine, rum, sea-salt, and exotic spices. “And If I cannot, or else simply do not accept your offered freedom, what then?”
“Then I might see about finding a way to steal you, instead, even if it means focusing the whole of my efforts upon destroying your career,” Jack said flatly. “In other words: we will remain enemies, and both suffer the worse for it, along with the people around us who get caught in the crossfire.”
James’ eyes narrowed into a steely jade glare. “You would be so determined, just to make me more miserable?”
“It would be a mutual choice, love: you would have no choice but to chase me for the sake of yourself and your navy, and I would have no choice but to retaliate and try to make you less of a threat to myself and me crew. The more ye failed to catch me, the more focused you’d have to become on catching me for the sake of career an’ reputation, and the more you threatened me then the more I’d have to focus on hindering you to survive. Savvy?”
After a slight hesitation, James gave a nod and assented, “Yes. However reluctantly.” His voice was edged in frustration.
“Three months, commodore.” Jack reached out to trace the line of James’ jaw with his fingertips, not quite able to hide his slight frown when the commodore half-flinched instinctively, but James did not actually pull away, which was encouraging. “I’ll be back for you.” Jack leaned in and caught the commodore’s lips firmly, just enough for a taste while the man’s lips were parted in a silent question (how was any honest pirate to resist such an opportunity as that?) and a lovely taste it was: the brush of warm lips and the brief, instinctive counter-slide of James’ tongue against his own for a moment as James inhaled sharply. It was enough, for now, to feel the flare of want in the other man before that naval control could again get its bearings: absolutely delicious. Then, before James could reach again for that pistol of his, Jack darted away and deftly leapt out the window, vanishing out into the night within mere seconds.
James stared after him for a long moment, his fingers following the path that Jack’s had taken, along the edge of his jaw. The commodore swallowed thickly around the strange knot of disappointment that had caused his throat to tighten as soon as Jack had pulled away. His thumb absently brushed his lower lip as confusion and conflict began to well up in his chest. Then he shook his head, his irritation returning anew. “Bloody pirate,” he cursed, and wrapped the sheet around his waist before going to close the window. He scanned the darkness outside for any trace of Jack Sparrow, and was strangely relieved to see none; he knew not what he might have done if the man had been visible, but he had a sinking suspicion that it would have been against all proper decorum.
Closing the window reluctantly, after inhaling once more lungful of jasmine-scented sea air, James returned to his bed and failed entirely to sleep.
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