Beginning of a long Norribeth story
Title: Halifax
Author: Naja_Nivea
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some naughty language.
Summary: An extremely overworked Norrington is pressganged into escorting several colonial leader and their families to Halifax for the season under the pretense it would help him relax.
Author's Notes: This is just a snippet of a long story I started writing. It takes place in the winter James turns 25 and Elizabeth is 17. I wanted to try and reconcile how the character from the first movie turned into the character from the second movie so I wanted to look at him when he was younger and not so well respected. I wanted to see what sort of reaction it got before I finished writting it.
Beta Credit: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Part 1
This takes place just after Elizabeth ran away from the hold after a battle with a pirate ship.
She remained there for some time, even as they began to clean the decks around her. She heard the Boson’s whistle call Captain on deck and peaked out. He looked fine, better than fine really. He still had his natural hair out but his hat was back. One of his sleeves seemed to have black streaks on it and the knuckles of his right hand were split opened. Or maybe he just looked so good because she was thrilled to see his was fine. He seemed busy so she remained in her hiding place between the canon even though she was getting cold as the sun began to sink.
Soon Gillette returned, leading some 15 men all tied together. They were dirty, missing teeth, and had shabby clothes. They were pirates. Her heart leapt at the prospect of getting to meet an honest to goodness pirate. Gillette lined them up a few feet away from her spot and she watched them until one caught a glimpse of her. “Oy, lad” he called. Of course, with her hair in a queue and wearing men’s clothes, she probably looked a bit like a young boy.
“Yes,” she answered.
“You’re a lass. Do they know.”
“Of course they do. James would never let me on his ship if he didn’t.”
“You know ol’ Noosey Norrington?”
“Yes, and he isn’t that old. He’s only twenty-four.”
“Quite famous among the brethren he is. Some say he’s killed more pirate then yellow fever.”
“He is very determined to rid the waters of pirates for better or worse.
“Yes, well lass, could you be doin’ me a solid. That overstuffed lace cuff over dere, tied me hands up awful tight. Can’t be feelin’ me fingers no more. Could you just loosen em up a bit.” He smiled a grin missing three teeth.
“I shouldn’t. I’ll get Mr. Gillette.”
“He be the one what did it. You, bein’ a lass, don’t know bout Navy dogs. They don’ care what happens to us. Don understand most o’ us just trying to make a livin. Don know no trade but sailin’ and most ships don pay enough wage to keep a man in food much less a family. Piracy be the only way. Folks like them, don care. All they wan is our ships as prizes an us taken’ a short drop with a sudden stop.”
Elizabeth started at that. Norrington, perhaps the most harsh against pirates, had used that exact phrase when saying they all deserved to die. What harm could it do to show the man some sympathy? “Very well, but only a little.” She slid over to help him. She loosened the knot and before she knew what was happening, the man had her around the throat and a derringer to her temple.
“Cap’in Norrington” The man called, “think I got somethin’ what belong to you.”
Norrington turned around and glared. Not a single emotion crossed his face other than annoyance. He looked at the man the same he looked at duty rosters. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” His sword was already in hand, blood still fresh enough to be jellied on it.
“I think I’m using this lass as a way to get me crew and me ship back.”
“Wrong answer.” Norrington growled. By this point the governors had come above deck. Swann gasped and made to run towards his daughter.
“No, I think it be the right one, or I splatter he pretty brains all over yer deck.”
“Then I kill you where you stand.” He smiled. “There are only two ways out of this situation. I shall give you a choice. Either you let her go and I kill you fast. I’ll slit your throat and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. Or you hurt her and I kill you slow. I’ll keelhaul you repeatedly, by the neck. I bet it takes 10, 12 times before you actually die. All that salt water in your wounds won’t be a nice feeling to leave this world to, but then again, neither will the feeling of my rope around your throat.”
“Stop” he pointed the pistol at Norrington, but the muzzle shook. “I just want me men and me ship. Can’t we strike a bargain?” He returned the gun to Elizabeth’s temple.
“I don’t negotiate with pirates. Fast or slow, what will it be?” It seemed the entire ship was holding its breath, waiting to see who would blink first.
“Maybe I should kill you in front of your bonny lass, here.”
“You have one bullet so decide fast and she isn’t my bonny anything other than passenger.” The pirate captain was sweating profusely, realizing the magnitude of his miscalculation.
“Captain, give him back his ship, that is my daughter he has. This isn’t some joke.” Swann protested as she mouthed the word “Daddy,” he did miss the “leave it to the captain,” though.
“Be quiet!” James snapped, never taking his eyes off Elizabeth and the pirate. “So times up, me or her, fast or slow.” The pirate was shaking from head to toe in fear. “Tick tock, tick tock” He teased and held his hand up to signal one of the marines behind him. The man lowered his weapon a fraction of an inch, he was going to give in. But at that moment, Swann charged towards them, intending to be a hero.
“Father,” Elizabeth warned, startling the pirate at the same time a marine restrained the governor. Sadly, that was the same moment the pirate panicked and fired his pistol at Norrington. Elizabeth noticed the man showed no response to the shot before she saw his sword coming straight for her. She was sure that she was dead, but only felt the hot spray of the pirate’s blood on her cheek and neck from where Norrington had slit his throat.
“Damit, that was too quick, I should have crucified him.” He spat, wiping blood off on his sleeve.
“Captain,” Gibson called, kneeling behind a wounded marine. There was a ball lodged in his eye, he wouldn’t survive.
“Send him to the surgeon to see if there is anything to be done.” He stated flatly, then turned to the dead pirate behind Elizabeth, she still hadn’t moved. He stalked over to her and glared down at the dead body, “And remove this stinking piece of offal from my deck.” He ground between gnashed teeth. It was at that moment she noticed that his left hand was bleeding. The shot must have gone straight though his hand and into the marine’s eye.
“Captain,” she squeaked, not sure what she intended to ask. If she wanted her father released, his wound cared for, or simple reassurance that she was safe and he was alright. What she got was not what she had expected.
“What.” He snarled.
“I” she began, the enormity of what had just happened beginning to sink in. That man could have killed her, he could have killed her father, or he could even have killed Norrington.
“You what? I told you not to go near them, I told you to go below decks, I told you to leave them be.” His voice cut threw her like a knife.
“I just thought they deserved some comfort.” She defended her self.
“Comfort? You stupid, headstrong, fool!” he stalked towards her, using his height and power of personality to force her back against the mast. There he had her trapped between the large pole and his body. The navy men closed in around them, trying to make sure none of the civilians did anything stupid, while Gillette tried to make sure their commanding officer didn’t do anything stupid either. “Now stand still, shut up, and listen to me, you useless little spoilt child. What you read in those books of yours is pure fantasy. There is no romance in piracy, there is no glory in battle, and there is no honour among thieves. There is blood and gun smoke, and death. This,” he held up his profusely bleeding hand right in front of her face and she was fairly sure she could see bone under the blood, “is what really happens. Men get hurt, women are made widows or worse, and people die. You can’t fix this by skipping the paragraph because you don’t like it. You can’t save that marine by turning the page back. And you can’t make that piece of shit over there be worth the lives he has cost by writing him as the hero of the story. In real life pirates are murders, rapists, and thieves. They terrorize, kill, and destroy the lives of normal hardworking people and I pray to god that you never realize just idiotic and immature your notions of them really are.”
“Sir,” Gillette tried to move him away, worried what else he might say in the heat of the moment and regret later. Norrington turned to leave. Gillette could see that the pain was starting to register with him now that battle wasn’t thrumming through his veins.
“If you hadn’t gone after them in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t such a vain and insecure glory hound who thinks that the poor little Irish orphan won’t get any respect unless he is the most feared captain in the Caribbean, then none of these people would have been hurt.”
“What? I was upholding the law, the entire navy is under standing orders to engage any ship that flies a pirate flag. We had no choice.”
“What do you mean you had no choice? If you had no choice than why were Mr. Gillette and Mr. Gibson trying to convince you to either engage or run. This had nothing to do with upholding the law or following orders and everything to do with you trying to prove that you are better than where you came from. You made that decision and you alone. Don’t blame me or the Admiralty because you made a mistake.” She pointed out, trying to gain some face back. His words hurt more than she thought possible. She wanted to make him hurt as badly as she did, it was only fair. His anger and disappointment was far worse than the fear of earlier. She had not truly been afraid because she knew Norrington would never let anything happen to her. It was odd really, not even in her father’s arms did she feel as safe as merely being in James’s presence. There was just something so strong, steady, and reassuring about him. Years later, she would realize the hypocrisy of gushing over Will’s attempts to save her while taking for granted that Norrington would move heaven and Earth to keep her safe.
He spun around and lurched back to her, his sword still drawn and hand still dripping blood on the deck. “How dare you? If you were a midshipman I would have you kissing the gunner’s daughter and tasting my claws until you screamed.”
“Sir!” Gillette and Gibson both nearly yelled, this time Gillette physically taking hold of the man before he really did something he would regret. “You are wounded and need to have the surgeon look at your hand.”
“Yes, captain. I’ll take care of things up here and you go with Mr. Gillette to have your hand looked after.” Gibson cut in with a soothing voice, moving between Elizabeth and the captain.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Norrington stuttered, a fog seeming to clear from his eyes. He nodded at the two marine’s restraining Swann and the man ran to his daughter. He then preceded Gillette to his day cabin. While on deck Elizabeth collapsed sobbing against her father far more embarrassed than scared.
The surgeon was already in the cabin, setting his utensils out and looking quite frightened. Mr. Clark or Sawbones, as all ship’s doctors were called, was a younger man with odd ideas about things. Norrington kept him around because he was easily cowed and rarely if ever pressed the use of laudanum, which made the captain sick as a dog. Gillette smiled sympathetically at the man, knowing better than anyone what a royal pain in the ass James was, when he was hurt. Most people, Gillette included, would rather face the broadside of the Dauntless than James when he was crabby.
“Sir, I heard you were wounded?” Sawbones began, gauging Norrington’s mood.
“No shit. Why else would you be here? Insufferable little git. How dare she question me, on my own deck of all places after I save her miserable highborn ass?” he groused as Gillette shoved him down in the chair and Sawbones began prodding the wound without preamble or much care for causing pain. “Why didn’t she just listen to me? This all could have been avoided if she had just done what she was told instead of following her fancy and thinking the pirates are anything other than worthless scum.” He ground between clenched teeth. “Jesus Fucking Christ, what are doing digging a well?” He shrieked when the doctor hit a particularly painful area.
“Well, I can’t fine the bullet.” He stated confidently.
“Clearly, because it is lodged in a marine’s eye socket.” Norrington was actually growling now.
“I’m going to clean it out but not stitch it up. It will heal better if we let it do so naturally. Just make sure to clean it and change the bandage every few hours. Not that you aren’t familiar with how to care for a gunshot wound, sir.” The last was drawled sarcastically to point out how often Norrington got himself wounded with his rather unhealthy delight in the art of battle. “Would you like something to bite on?”
“How about Miss ‘I’m too good to listen to anyone but my ridiculous fiction books’ Swann’s throat?”
“I’ll take that as a no.” He dunked the captains still bleeding hand into a bucket of boiled sea water and high proof alcohol. The ensuing string of profanity was a good recompose for Norrington’s earlier rudeness. “Leave it there for five minutes then wrap it up tightly. I have others to check on. Send for me if it looks to be going rancid.” He rose and left, happy to be away from the captain.
Gillette took his seat and continued to bathe the wound, if much more gently. “Sir, you did nothing wrong. That marine’s death wasn’t your fault.” He began.
James’s rigid shoulders immediately slumped. “Then whose fault is it? Maybe we shouldn’t have gone after them.”
“Then that East Indiaman would have been dead where she floated along with all aboard. The only person at fault is that pirate and he paid for it. There is no reason for you to extract payment upon yourself as well. He was a marine, a king’s man, and he knew what he was signing up for when he joined.”
“Mr. Eastman,” he said contemplatively, swallowing back a groan of pain, “his name was Francis Eastman. He was from Cambridge.”
“Mr. Eastman then. But the point still stands that it was not your fault. That pirate pulled the trigger and he might not have even done it had Governor Swann not picked that as the one moment in his life to try and be heroic. Don’t blame yourself and don’t worry about what could have or might have happened if things had been different. You know that nothing can change this and all of your obsessing drives me crazy.” He put his hand on Norrington’s shoulder, showing that the jibe was meant in a friendly manner. Gillette of all people as his closest friend, knew how James blamed himself when his men were killed. In Gillette’s mind, Norrington’s insane guilt was closely linked to his insane need to control everything. Miss Swann always tended to be a fly in the ointment of James’s rather perfectionist nature. She was that one yellow flower that always seemed to find a way to grow in a perfectly linear cut hedge.
Norrington hissed and rested his head against his desk, his wounded hand limp in Gillette’s gentle grip. Lir jumped up and he gave him a quick scratch under his chin before the cat settled down to purr contentedly beside his hurt captain. James was starting to feel the effects of his injury beyond the immediate pain. He felt shaky, dizzy, and queasy from pain and blood loss. He let his eyes fall shut and concentrated on the rhythmic rock of the ship and Lir’s throaty purring, he found them very soothing. “All done, sir.” Spoken by Gillette pulled him from his dazed reverie.
“She could have been killed,” he whispered to himself more than Gillette.
“I know, James, but she wasn’t.” He soothed as Captain Carmichael entered.
“How are you doing, Sir?” His brogue made heavier by concern.
Norrington shook his head for a moment then turned to his lieutenant, “I’m fine, Mr. Carmichael, let us go see how things on the deck are going.”
“I think you should stay here, Captain. You did just get shot.” Carmichael noted sensibly as James struggled to rise.
“Nonsense the wound has stopped bleeding and I am more than ready to see to the dispensation of the prize vessel, the removal of the prisoners, and any repairs that the East Indiaman might require.”
“Be reasonable, James. You are in pain and should get some sleep if you can.” Gillette scurried around cleaning up the cabin, lamenting the fact Norrington refused to employ a valet.
“I am reasonable. There is a great deal to be done and I am the Captain and,”
“Yes, we are all aware that you are the captain but this will be the 118th prize ship the Reliant has taken under your command. Do you think the rest of your officers don’t know what to do yet?”
“Well no, but the men need to see that I am fit to command in case there are any problems.” His argument was a feeble as his attempts to stand.
“Very well, sir,” Gillette offered his hand to pull the taller man out of his chair, which he did quite quickly. As he rose, all the colour drained from his face and he suddenly felt very dizzy and very sick. He managed to stagger all of one step before he doubled over and retched into the bucket Gillette was holding at the ready for him. “Will you finally admit you need to lie down now?” The lieutenant smiled smugly at his gagging friend.
“Fine,” he gasped weakly.
Gillette half led and half dragged him to the hammock Carmichael was stringing. “There you go, sir, get some sleep and before you say anything I promise to come wake you if you are needed.” He steadied the hammock as Norrington got in, still in his bloodied uniform.
“My sword.” He sat up slightly and the cabin spun around him, “I haven’t cleaned it yet.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.” Gillette soothed.
“I should check on Miss Swann.”
“You should go to sleep,” Gillette’s tone moving from soothing to annoyed.
“But”
“But nothing! James Edward Norrington, you have one of three choices, either you stay there and sleep on your own, I break a bottle over your head and knock out (my personal favourite), or I go to Mr. Clark and get enough Laudanum to keep you senseless for two days and spend the next two after that with your head hanging over the rail unable to hold down even a single sip of water. Which is it going to be?”
“I’ll stay here.” He pouted, not liking having his own tactics turned against him.
“Good, get some rest and feel better, sir.” He lovingly ran his fingers through Norrington’s loose hair, smoothing it off his forehead. “Do you want to keep your coat on or take it off?”
“On, I’m cold,” he mumbled, already drowsy. Lir jumped up and settled his bulk across Norrington’s chest and stomach. James rested a hand on the now purring cat.
“Ok, I’ll check on you later.” The two officers left him alone to rest while he could.