Transformation Catch Up: Parts 1-5
Am about to post the latest (ie. the eleventh) chapter of Transformation in about an hour - I know, I know it's been a long time coming! It's been so long, in fact, that I'm sure a lot of people have forgotten what has happened so far, so here are parts 1-5 published together!
Title: Transformation
Summary: James Norrington chooses a different side: his own. (Chapters one to five - i.e. half the story so far)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mainly James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann
Disclaimer: Trust me, I'm making no money of off this, in the words of Phoebe Buffay, if I did: "Say I bought a really great pair of shoes with the money. Do you know what I'd hear with every step I took? 'Not-mine, not-mine, not-mine.' And even if I were happy, ok, and, and skipping, I'd hear 'notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine, notNOT-mine.."
Chapter One
James Norrington sat in the gloomy captain’s quarters of the Flying Dutchman. The ship lurched horrifically and James clutched the sides of the chair he was sat in. He ignored the rocking of the boat, too invested in his own problems. Elizabeth was in the brig. He wanted to go help her, but he knew that he needed to think this through. His eyes flickered across the soldiers keeping watch over the chest - they were, predictably, asleep against the walls. Elizabeth had told him that it was time to choose a side, and although he still considered himself part of the Navy, he knew that wasn’t a side in its own right anymore. Not now, now that Beckett had twisted and distorted the service that James loved, to meet his own ends - the ends of the East India Company. He sighed again. So it came down to a straight choice: Beckett or Elizabeth. It seemed an obvious choice at first, but choosing Elizabeth meant abandoning his men and having to ingratiate himself with Sparrow. He shuddered at the thought. Looking up again, a third choice came to him. If he couldn’t side with the Navy, which no longer existed, then he could create his own side. He rose from the throne like chair and walked, uncertainly, towards the chest. Checking the men were still asleep, he opened the lock, as quietly as he could - Mercer foolishly having left the key in the room with him. The heart lay there, much as it had those few weeks ago, but it seemed a sorrier sight somehow, barnacles falling off and oozing more than he remembered. He reached out a hand, but thought better of it - why risk Jones realizing something was wrong? James pulled his sword slowly from its scabbard, listening to the low whistle as it came free. Here he paused. Did he really want to do this? Before Swann had set sail for England he had told him that he had discovered what happens to he who stabs the heart. Did he want to spend his eternal life as the Captain of the Flying Dutchman? He faltered and lowered his sword. Before he could sheathe the sword again, Elizabeth’s face came to his mind and strengthened his resolve, and before he could agonise about it any more, he plunged the sword tip into the heart.
Elizabeth sat with her head resting on a wooden pillar behind her. She was disturbed by Bootstrap Bill’s words. Who would Will choose? Before losing the heart of Davy Jones she would have been confident that Will’s love for her would win out, but now? Now she wasn’t so sure. Their relationship had grown awkward recently; they either ignored each other, or tried too hard. She remembered Singapore, when they had reunited after the battle and after not knowing how to act for a moment he had put his arm around her waist and dragged her off - but it didn’t seem like a genuine act of protectiveness, but rather what he perceived to be the right thing to do in that situation.
Then there was Jack. Since they had brought him back he had barely said two words to her, that wasn’t an insult. She couldn’t tell if he was punishing her or simply trying to move on. Elizabeth let out a wry laugh, earning her a dubious look from one of Sao Feng’s men, less than a year ago she had had a wealthy suitor, an infatuated blacksmith and a flirty pirate - now what did she have?
With that, her thoughts rounded onto her first fiancé, and current captor. She couldn’t blame him for keeping her locked up - she was a pirate, she thought with some smug satisfaction, but to say that her father had returned to England? That was a foolish lie to tell her - she knew Beckett had mercy for no man. Even so, there was the smallest of doubts in her mind, which told her that maybe he was telling the truth, for when had he ever lied to her? She realised, bitterly, that he was the only man not to have lied to her at some point. Before she could dwell on other men there was a loud screech from above. Elizabeth jumped to her feet, covering her ears from the frightful noise. Despite not being able to hear it, she could feel the sound ringing through her bones. It stopped. Cautiously she took her hands from her ears and looked around. Her men were fine. But what of Bootstrap? She moved over to the wall and found the man lying on the floor; she moved to help him up but was shocked by what she saw. Before her eyes the man stood up slowly, barnacles and starfish and all falling away, and the shreds of clothes he still had, melted like wax into cloth blue, white and gold. She gasped sharply. Bill Turner stood before her, not only a man resurrected but a man transformed. She knew these clothes, and looking outside to the guards she saw them, too, looking at their garb in wonderment. They were Navy uniforms.
Chapter Two
Elizabeth looked at the men walking around in their uniforms - what was happening? She noticed they were all moving upstairs, Bootstrap was let through by another sailor and together they all passed upstairs. None of them said a word as the crew of the Empress gazed on in awe. Once they had all gone the prisoners broke out into bursts of whispers and theories, but Elizabeth remained holding onto the bars, wishing desperately that she could get out somehow. There was another sound, the prisoners all listened with bated breath, and it was a scream this time - a man’s scream. She called out helplessly “James!”
The Flying Dutchman dived beneath the water, shaking itself free of its uncomfortable adornments and wiping the slate clean. Away came the barnacles and the sea creatures and even the darkness of the wood. When the ship came to the surface the paint peeled back to reveal the true colours of the ship, blue and mahogany - the cannon ports gilded in silver. On the deck of the ship the Dutchman’s captain lay, rejuvenated on the red decks of the ship, hand clutching the new red scar on his chest.
James Norrington stood, taking in his uniform. It was his old Naval uniform, gone was the garish mustard yellow, and back was the purity he had sorely missed. He looked around at the men who were advancing towards him and came back to reality. Reaching for his sword he swung it out before him, scaring off any would be challengers. He realized they were all dressed like he was, in various uniforms - ranging from the redcoats to the lieutenants.
“Stay back.” He called to them and they immediately stepped backwards. This revelation caused him to falter somewhat, he hadn’t been expecting them to do what he said. One of the men came forwards; he wore a lieutenant’s uniform.
“Sir. We mean you no harm - we are simply a crew waiting orders from their captain.” He spoke carefully to him, as if afraid of upsetting him. James lowered the sword - his mind began to make the connection now. Another thought occurred to him - where was Mercer? He patted his coat pockets frantically and was relieved when he found the key there. He beckoned over the soldier holding the chest. He had some grim desire to see it, to force himself to believe that this was really happening. The chest opened with a pop and lifting the lid he saw before him a beating, very bloody and very fresh heart. Feeling slightly ill he closed it again and took it from the man.
“Where are Beckett’s men?” As his new crew led him below deck, James found himself checking for tentacles or other fishy attachments - but thankfully none were to be found. He looked around, they seemed to be in the brig, as they walked through different compartments James took off his hat, which was a hindrance below deck and carefully stooped beneath every beam. At last the crew stopped outside the largest of the cells, inside was a gaggle of very nervous looking pirates, Sao Feng’s he remembered, and East India Company officers. At the front of the group though was Elizabeth Swann who seemed to have been having an altercation with Mercer, who was gripping her wrist tightly, though in their shock at seeing him they had frozen in position.
“James?” Elizabeth pulled her wrist away sharply, now meeting no resistance. She walked over to the bars with some trepidation, he looked different to her. His uniform was back to his Commodore’s one, and the atrocious yellow was gone too. He seemed taller, more powerful and even more dashing than ever.
“Let her out.” He commanded, and one of the redcoats swung open the door for her. Allegiance to her pirates was forgotten, mesmerised by the revival of a dear friend. She moved over to him and placed her hand on the side of his face. “What is happening James? Where is Davy Jones?” His new resolve seemed to weaken a moment before he raised his hand to hers and giving it a gentle squeeze he pulled it from him and dropped it. Turning to address Mercer too, he spoke,
“I am Commodore Norrington, the Flying Dutchman is mine,” he spoke in his low soft spoken voice and turning fully to Mercer and his men, “Davy Jones is gone. This ship will serve the Royal Navy,” but before Mercer could gain false hope, “but never serve Cutler Beckett and his East India Company,” his eyes moving from Mercer he looked over the soldiers, many had been Naval Officers like him once, “The rest of you have a choice to make, stay loyal to Beckett and remain in the brig with Mr Mercer, or rejoin the Royal Navy, as free men.”
There was a long pause before two soldiers shuffled nervously forwards, he had known them, Murtogg and Mullroy was it? The larger one spoke out, shaking, “It would be an honour, sir, to serve under your command again.” With that they both gave him a salute, and gradually they all got to their feet. He was proud of them - you can take the man from the Navy, but never the Navy from the man. He turned to Elizabeth again, she was still looking at him in a strange way, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He offered his arm to her and ordering his men to let the soldiers out, he swept out with Elizabeth on his arm.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure why she was clutching girlishly to James’s arm, or why she was twittering away like an eejit. She cringed at feeling like she was sixteen again, infatuated with the heroic captain of Port Royal. But she wasn’t, she reminded herself; lives were on the line - what a difference three years made. James hadn’t really said anything to her, but they were being followed by his men, and James had always been a private man she reasoned. They came outside and she was surprised that it was still night, the stars were out in their full numbers, welcoming the return of an honourable captain, who would deliver them souls. James looked down at her, as she gazed up in wonder, even at World’s End the stars hadn’t shone so brightly, and it was hard to see on the glasslike sea, where sky met water.
James felt his heart tighten slightly. He watched her eyes scanning the glittering horizon. Was it so wrong that he still, still after his rejection, so desperately wanted her to love him? She turned up towards him and smiled broadly. He reciprocated and led her over the Captain’s quarters. He opened the doors and both were left stunned by the appearance of the room, no longer was it grimy and clammy - with walls covered in God only knows what. The ceiling seemed higher, the floors were shining cedar, the walls were painted in simple white and the windows had blue velvet curtains. He felt a slight stab of reminiscence; it was like his quarters aboard the Dauntless, if a little more grand. Forgetting his company he opened the floor to ceiling curtains that separated the room. Behind them were a small wooden bedside table and a large bed with sheets of white and blue and a frame of silver. He blushed at what Elizabeth would think, and quickly drew the curtain back around it. Elizabeth had seated herself on a settee and sat waiting for him to join her. Awkwardly he offered her a drink, which she rightfully declined; he hesitated before sitting down next to her. It was strange, he thought, when he had gone through his, ahem, “pirate” phase he would have had no difficulty talking to her, but now in his uniform he felt stifled. He began to talk to her telling her how he had decided it was time for the Royal Navy to fight back, and as he did so he stood again, pulling his wig from his head and placing it upon the hat stand, he untied his cravat and deposited it on the desk with his jacket. He turned back to Elizabeth and saw her looking back at him in awe, mouth open slightly. He couldn’t help himself. He moved over to her and pulled her up to her feet. Not giving her time to understand what was happening he kissed her hard, pulling her flush against him, claiming as much of her as he could. When he finally let her go, she looked at him stunned and said simply:
“You’re a pirate.”
Chapter Four
Before the pair could disentangle themselves from their passionate embrace - his hands on her neck and the small of her back, and hers tangled into his shirt - a lieutenant barged in:
“Sir,” but before he could get out his sentence he saw his captain and Elizabeth Swann in their passionate hold, and more importantly his Captain’s death glare, “My apologies sir!” With that he scurried out of the room again. James suddenly felt very self-conscious about the way they had twisted themselves around each other, and wasn’t entirely sure about how he should go about extracting himself. Elizabeth, too, seemed frozen.
Elizabeth tried desperately to suppress her blushing. Pirate. Why had she said that? Why? It was completely untrue, one of the things she found attractive about James was his clean shaven look, and entirely un-piratical appearance. The kiss had been entirely inappropriate, and she willed herself to stop thinking about it, and to feel angry at him for doing such a thing. But, the little girl in the back of her head said, that was a hell of a kiss. Well of course it was, but surely not as good as the ones she had had with Will, or even Jack. But then the one with Jack had been tainted somewhat by her betrayal, she thought to herself. And Will’s, she had to admit, were always safe and romantic but never left her panting and clawing at the man. She flushed with embarrassment again, and tried looking any where other that James - somewhat difficult considering their close proximity.
There was a knock at the door, and they finally pulled away, both feeling the loss of contact more than they would care to admit.
“Come in.” James called authoritatively. The lieutenant reentered, and Elizabeth gasped and quickly rushed off behind the screen, hand to her mouth. James looked after her, puzzled - “women!” he thought. Turning his attention back to the soldier he asked what he wanted.
“We need a heading, sir. We were supposed to meet with the Endeavour this morning, but we weren’t sure you wanted to keep that appointment…sir.” The man spoke slowly, deliberately trying not to look towards where Elizabeth was hiding.
“What is your name, lieutenant?” James asked, idly, as he walked over to his large desk and perched on the edge.
“Bill Turner, sir,” He replied, quickly - clearly nervous in the younger man’s company.
Recognition flashed across James’ face, that name sounded all too familiar to his liking, but dismissing it he reached a hand out towards him.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance Lieutenant Turner, I assume you are willing to take on the mantle of first mate, at least temporarily?” But before he could elaborate on the man’s duties their hands met and James reeled as images flashed in his mind: the ocean; Elizabeth screaming; the monster Turner had been, then he felt pain and a strange voice echoed in his head: “a touch o’destiny about ‘im…” Then all went black.
Chapter Five
James came to with his head in the lap of a very worried looking Elizabeth. On seeing him open his eyes she seemed to relax, though she still kept her hands supporting his head. After his initial disorientation, James couldn’t help but feel stupid. Grown men weren’t supposed to pass out, black out from manly pain but not girlish fainting fits. Elizabeth was looking worried. Had he missed something? He couldn’t hear! He felt a surge of panic as he explained that he had gone deaf. Elizabeth looked sheepish and moved her hands. Oh.
“James, are you alright?” She asked, concernedly. She looked different James thought, since the few minutes since he had seen her last.
“Yes,” he croaked, good grief, he thought, this fainting was unpleasant business, “How long have I been out?”
“Almost two hours now,” she spoke quietly, seeming tired, “We managed to drag you onto the bed but we had no idea what had happened to you.”
James opened his mouth to talk but a loud croak erupted instead. Elizabeth sent the redcoat at the door to fetch water. She looked down on him, brushing the hair from his forehead tenderly.
“I know you think I’m coldhearted,” he tried to protest but she waved him off, “but I do love you James,” he looked at her incredulously, “Really. The problem is that I keep changing. I can’t seem to stay the same for more than a few weeks at a time. When I chose Will,” here James winced, “he was the man for me. Now I’m not so sure. A few weeks ago I was sure the only man for me was Jack Sparrow,” she smiled wryly, “and then I killed him.”
James looked at her, amazed at her sudden attack of brutal honesty. He waited a moment, to see if she would volunteer anything more, when she didn’t he tried to prompt her, “So what are you saying, Elizabeth?”
She grimaced slightly, “I’m saying that you should bear with me - see what happens.”
The door opened and his drink was brought in. The two of them sat in companionable silence for a good few minutes, James not feeling any inclination to move from his very comfortable spot, feeling that he had made some real headway in getting to know Elizabeth Swann.
Lieutenant Turner returned, and after many apologies for what could not possibly be his fault, he gladly accepted the invitation to be his temporary first mate. As James finally got to his feet, leaving Elizabeth feeling very naked, he missed the accusing glance that Turner gave his son’s fiancée. She at least had the decency to look ashamed, if only for a moment. As James stretched his back, Elizabeth fetched his coat and wig, almost reluctantly handing them over - she liked the man beneath the façade.
With a bow James left her in his quarters. She sat on the edge of the bed, giggling slightly over the realization that James Norrington was the first man who’s bed she had been in.
James straightened his cravat as he walked, always a step ahead of his lieutenant, as he debated what to do. If they went to the rendezvous point they would certainly be found out, and the advantage of surprise would be lost. But James couldn’t help but think of the good men on Beckett’s ship - good men who would surely return to his ranks if given the option. As competent as Turner surely was, it would be a great comfort to have Lt Groves at his side again, a trusted advisor, confidante and friend.