This fic is rated: PG-13
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean
Characters: Will Turner, James Norrington, Bootstrap, and some OMCs.
Summary: more scenes from the Dutchman, with more angst and less ust.
For
slashthedrabble's prompts: Games, That's Just Wrong, Freedom/Escape, Oops, Bound, Unexpected, Broken
Warnings: AU, contains references to torture
Word Count: 700
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
Cross-Posted
were_lemur,
pirategasm,
potc_fic,
slashthedrabble,
turningpirate,
one_norrington,
norrington_love My FanFic MasterlistDisclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney. Characters will be played with nicely and returned to them in good condition when I'm done. No infringement is intended, please don't sue me!
In the same 'verse as
Not Exactly a Fix-It Fic Part One Games
"Midwatch," Will heard Abernathy say.
He turned his head and saw McGonnigal smiling wolfishly. "Midwatch and scrubbing the decks."
"I'll match that," O'Brien said, and Abernathy nodded in agreement. The three crewmen shook their dice cups and slammed them to the deck.
Bile rose in Will's throat. It was too much like he remembered, back when Jones was still captain of the Dutchman, and it certainly was not a fair way to distribute duties.
He was about to launch into an outraged lecture, when Norrington's voice cut the still air. "Captain, if I might have a moment of your time?"
That's Just Wrong
Norrington could see the effort it took the Captain to swallow his words, but when he led the way below, Turner followed. When they were out of earshot, Norrington turned to him. "It would be a bad idea to deny the crew entertainment."
"Dicing for duties -- "
" -- is a tradition as old as the sea, Captain. If a few hands end up doing more than their share, it will be a lesson learned." Had he looked as outraged when he'd been given the same advice? He lets his voice soften. "Though I cannot begrudge you the sentiment."
Freedom/Escape
Whatever Norrington was reading had brought a faint smile to his face. The lamplight softened his features; he looked more relaxed than Will ever remembered seeing him. His fingers cradled the slim volume, and his green-eyed gaze caressed the page.
Will tried to be quiet, but he must have made some slight sound, because Norrington looked up from his reading.
"I hate to interrupt, but we're coming up on a wreck. I thought you might want to be on deck, to keep me from doing something stupid.
Norrington closed his book, and Will saw his cares settle on him again.
Oops
It takes only a moment for everything to go horribly wrong.
Will guides the Dutchman in. Those of the foundering ship's crew still living have already taken to the longboats, though with no land for days, he suspects he'll be back for them. But Will's hand on the wheel isn't as deft as it could be, and the two ships collide.
It doesn't damage the Dutchman, of course, but it's the last blow that the dying ship takes. It collapses, and its mast falls across the Dutchman for a moment, dragging several crewman -- including Norrington -- into the water.
Bound
He couldn't drown, of course; he was already dead. Norrington fought down instinctive panic, reminded himself that breathing was only a habit, and tried to orient himself. He started to swim in what he hoped was the right direction, when something descended around him.
It was only a tangle of lines, the rational part of him realized -- but when he tried to free himself, they tightened around him in the dark like tentacles and he started to thrash, because he knew that Jones had decided to personally involve himself. Then hands grabbed him and he couldn't, not again --
Unexpected
The rescue went quickly; most of the Dutchman's crewmen had been knocked clear. The few that had gotten tangled were cut loose. Will hurried to the railing and helped his father lift Norrington over the side.
"He was pretty well tangled," Bootstrap said.
Now that all of his crew were accounted for, embarrassment had kicked in. Not that he didn't deserve it. "Go on," he said to Norrington. "I'm sure you have something to say about that bit of steering,"
But Norrington was silent. Even when Will gently shook his shoulder, he just lay still, shivering, green eyes staring blankly.
Broken
"Mr. Norrington."
No response.
Will rolled Norrington over onto his stomach, and pulled his hips up to get his knees under him. The water came from his lungs in a rush, and he coughed, once, twice.
"Mr. Norrington, can you hear me?"
Still no answer. Will lifted Norrington's shoulders, pushing him into a kneeling position, but his head lolled forward. Will gently tilted the man's chin up. Up close, he could hear that Norrington was letting out a constant, near-inaudible whimper. His eyes were focused somewhere in the middle distance; whether he was lost or escaping, Will could not guess.
Part Three