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So happy to find a Norrington community on livejournal! For my first post, I decided on a one shot called "By the Time the Sun Rises," on what happens when Elizabeth goes to see James the night before he leaves to persue jack. Feedback is always welcome, and if you are looking for more Norrington ff, I write under WanderingChild at fanfiction.net
Thanks all!
-C
Title: By the Time the Sun Rises
Author: ashtonecks
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Angst
Summary: Takes place the night after Norrington allows Jack to escape and releases Elizabeth from her engagement.
Disclaimer: I ownnothing, wish i did :(
By the Time the Sun Rises
By C.A Ecks
Elizabeth’s feet seem to move of their own volition.
A step here, a step there. One, two, one right after the other. Up the stairs of the old fort, down the corridors of stone that are rank with the thick humidity of the warm Caribbean moonlight.
She knows that he will be here. What she doesn’t know was why she is here. Sparing the life of Jack Sparrow, and then sparing Will’s as well, was more gift than Elizabeth had ever deserved…
But then James had released her from their engagement as well.
One step, two step, one in front of the other, she continues to walk.
She knows that he will sail on the dawn; James will, pursuing Jack, even if he does not truly want to. Elizabeth gives a small smile. Maybe he does. She really can’t know. The Commodore’s heart is a far harder instrument to read than she could have ever guessed.
A warm breeze picks up, carrying Elizabeth’s hair in waves about her delicate neck. She wares a simple morning frock, the only thing that she can get into without a maid’s assistance. Sneaking out of her home had been easy enough-she had done so countless times as a child-but finding a dress that could be worn without a corset? That was a challenge all to itself.
Her breath hitches as she sees a single candle burning in a window from across the fort. Yes, he is there, and she has to see him. Has to apologize for what she has done, to beg his forgiveness for not loving him. Oh how she wishes that she could have! To prevent the sharp look of agony in his eyes as he had relinquished her to Will, the pain in the face of the man who has been her protector all her years in Port Royale. It had only been a brief flash of emotion, but it had been there. It had been there.
Step, step, step. Her small feet pad lightly against the cobblestones. In the distance, she can hear the waves crashing against the shore. They sound like a requiem. Step, step, step. A knock. Another knock. She holds her breath.
When James finally opens the door, Elizabeth can not tell who has the greater look of surprise on their face. His jaw is hanging, his eyes wide, probably dumbfounded as to why she, the woman who has just so cruelly left him, is here now, in his darkest hour. Elizabeth for her part is struck speechless. The man before her looks so young, divested of his uniform and wig, wearing only navy breeches and a white linen shirt. His long hair is dark brown; Elizabeth has not seen it since she was a child and he a lieutenant. His green eyes smolder with an emotion that Elizabeth can’t name or place, and she can see the tension in his body bunched in the chords of his neck and shoulders. For the first time in her life, James Norrington inspires not boredom or safety, but fear…
…or something like it.
He instantly straightens.
“Miss Swann, what are you doing here?” His voice is rough, and slightly dry, and Elizabeth feels the sting of being addressed so formally. He hasn’t called her Miss Swann since she was ten.
“James-James I…” but now her throat is dry, her mind filled with too many thoughts to speak, and so she remains silent, her mouth hung open in defeat.
For his part, James looks annoyed. “Come, come,” he says, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the office. “It won’t do any good to have you seen about outside in the middle of the night.”
Elizabeth only nods. He leads her to an empty chair, sitting her down, and then turning from her, leaning against his desk. She notices that he wears no cravat, and the open neck of his shirt reveals bronzed skin. She briefly wonders how it got that way.
James is alternating between joy and madness, love and hate. She is so beautiful, sitting here with her hair undone and her face bathed in nothing but candle light. Is it love that pierces his heart right now, or simply the pain of rejection? Why could she not just hate him, as he so readily wishes that he could hate her?
“What are you doing here?” He repeats. The words are clipped.
Elizabeth says nothing. She finds that her voice is still gone, lost somewhere in the thoughts that are swirling all about her.
What are you doing here?!” He cries it out this time, his well hewn control at the breaking point, and Elizabeth jumps up from her chair.
“I had to see you!” She cries. There, her voice has found itself. “I wanted to see that you were perfect and wonderful! I wanted to see that I had meant nothing more to you than a marriage, that you were glad to let me go, that a Commodore would want more in a wife than a Governor’s daughter-”
She stops, surprised at the volume of her own voice and how desperately she wishes that everything she has just said is true. She deserves to be nothing to him.
“But that’s not what you see.” He replies dully. There it is. The heart of the matter.
She shakes her head miserably.
“Well forgive me Madame,” he hisses bitterly, “for not catering to this whim as well.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Like hell it isn’t!”
Her heart thumps. She has never heard him swear.
“I have done everything for you!” He cries. “Everything that you have ever asked of me has been yours! I even rescued the man that you love, a man who isn’t me, so that I might seem worthy of you!” James wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“The why didn’t you come after me! Why didn’t you make the deal with Sparrow?!” Elizabeth’s own anguish turns into rage, and she directs it straight at him.
“Because I thought I was doing what was right!” He takes a step towards her. “I wanted to be right and I wanted Turner to be wrong!”
“Your pride,” she sneers, taking a step closer to him.
“All for you, Elizabeth!” Rage and pain have melted all sense of formality. “Everything has always been for you.” Another step. His voice is soft once more, but lit on the edges with an anger than can only be called otherworldly. “Don’t dare ask me now to pretend that I do not love you, for that is the one thing I shall keep.”
Who moves first is hard to tell, but in an instant she is in his arms, her body pressed up against his own and their lips locked. There is nothing sweet or civilized about the kiss, there is only a passion that neither party knew was there, and so now it nearly consumes them, filling each with surprise and a new wave of misery because of it. James’s kiss is unrelenting; the kiss of a starving man who knows that he shall never eat again. The gentleman is gone, and Elizabeth’s soft moan of acquiescence is all the encouragement that he needs. He pulls her closer, if such a thing is possible, and fists his hands through her hair, his lips trailing small, biting kisses against her jaw and neck.
Elizabeth is lost; drowning is what can only be described as the most blissful pain any human being has ever felt. This is not the man she pledged to marry today. This is the man that she gave up.
“So this is the path you choose?”
“It is…
The young memory is like a slap in the face. This is all wrong, all of it. The scent of James on her body, the taste of him in her mouth-this shouldn’t feel so perfect.
He rakes a hand across her hipbone, and Elizabeth’s mouth opens in a violent gasp. If he took her now, they would both have no choice. He would be honor bound to marry her, and she to him. The idea is almost appealing. Her hands would be tied, and for the rest of their lives she would probably pretend to hate him for it, all the while being secretly glad that had taken the choice away.
But James Norrington is a better man than that.
So he breaks the kiss.
He is breathing heavily; so is she.
“You love Turner.”
There they are, the words that are breaking her in two from the inside out. William. Yes, she does love him, with all her heart she does.
“James.”
His name sounds beautiful on her lips, but he can bear no more.
“You love Turner.”
Elizabeth does not answer, and James briefly wonder if this is his moment, his one chance to break Turner’s hold on the woman that he has loved for as long as he can remember. He traces a finger across her lips, lips that are swollen because of his kiss…
But James Norrington is a better man than that.
“I loved you,” he says simply, and Elizabeth sinks into the chair, he eyes frozen with tears that refuse to fall. When she does not move, when she does not stir from the agony that has gripped her, James leaves the office for the docks.
By the time the sun rises, he has already set sail
Thanks all!
-C
Title: By the Time the Sun Rises
Author: ashtonecks
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Angst
Summary: Takes place the night after Norrington allows Jack to escape and releases Elizabeth from her engagement.
Disclaimer: I ownnothing, wish i did :(
By the Time the Sun Rises
By C.A Ecks
Elizabeth’s feet seem to move of their own volition.
A step here, a step there. One, two, one right after the other. Up the stairs of the old fort, down the corridors of stone that are rank with the thick humidity of the warm Caribbean moonlight.
She knows that he will be here. What she doesn’t know was why she is here. Sparing the life of Jack Sparrow, and then sparing Will’s as well, was more gift than Elizabeth had ever deserved…
But then James had released her from their engagement as well.
One step, two step, one in front of the other, she continues to walk.
She knows that he will sail on the dawn; James will, pursuing Jack, even if he does not truly want to. Elizabeth gives a small smile. Maybe he does. She really can’t know. The Commodore’s heart is a far harder instrument to read than she could have ever guessed.
A warm breeze picks up, carrying Elizabeth’s hair in waves about her delicate neck. She wares a simple morning frock, the only thing that she can get into without a maid’s assistance. Sneaking out of her home had been easy enough-she had done so countless times as a child-but finding a dress that could be worn without a corset? That was a challenge all to itself.
Her breath hitches as she sees a single candle burning in a window from across the fort. Yes, he is there, and she has to see him. Has to apologize for what she has done, to beg his forgiveness for not loving him. Oh how she wishes that she could have! To prevent the sharp look of agony in his eyes as he had relinquished her to Will, the pain in the face of the man who has been her protector all her years in Port Royale. It had only been a brief flash of emotion, but it had been there. It had been there.
Step, step, step. Her small feet pad lightly against the cobblestones. In the distance, she can hear the waves crashing against the shore. They sound like a requiem. Step, step, step. A knock. Another knock. She holds her breath.
When James finally opens the door, Elizabeth can not tell who has the greater look of surprise on their face. His jaw is hanging, his eyes wide, probably dumbfounded as to why she, the woman who has just so cruelly left him, is here now, in his darkest hour. Elizabeth for her part is struck speechless. The man before her looks so young, divested of his uniform and wig, wearing only navy breeches and a white linen shirt. His long hair is dark brown; Elizabeth has not seen it since she was a child and he a lieutenant. His green eyes smolder with an emotion that Elizabeth can’t name or place, and she can see the tension in his body bunched in the chords of his neck and shoulders. For the first time in her life, James Norrington inspires not boredom or safety, but fear…
…or something like it.
He instantly straightens.
“Miss Swann, what are you doing here?” His voice is rough, and slightly dry, and Elizabeth feels the sting of being addressed so formally. He hasn’t called her Miss Swann since she was ten.
“James-James I…” but now her throat is dry, her mind filled with too many thoughts to speak, and so she remains silent, her mouth hung open in defeat.
For his part, James looks annoyed. “Come, come,” he says, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the office. “It won’t do any good to have you seen about outside in the middle of the night.”
Elizabeth only nods. He leads her to an empty chair, sitting her down, and then turning from her, leaning against his desk. She notices that he wears no cravat, and the open neck of his shirt reveals bronzed skin. She briefly wonders how it got that way.
James is alternating between joy and madness, love and hate. She is so beautiful, sitting here with her hair undone and her face bathed in nothing but candle light. Is it love that pierces his heart right now, or simply the pain of rejection? Why could she not just hate him, as he so readily wishes that he could hate her?
“What are you doing here?” He repeats. The words are clipped.
Elizabeth says nothing. She finds that her voice is still gone, lost somewhere in the thoughts that are swirling all about her.
What are you doing here?!” He cries it out this time, his well hewn control at the breaking point, and Elizabeth jumps up from her chair.
“I had to see you!” She cries. There, her voice has found itself. “I wanted to see that you were perfect and wonderful! I wanted to see that I had meant nothing more to you than a marriage, that you were glad to let me go, that a Commodore would want more in a wife than a Governor’s daughter-”
She stops, surprised at the volume of her own voice and how desperately she wishes that everything she has just said is true. She deserves to be nothing to him.
“But that’s not what you see.” He replies dully. There it is. The heart of the matter.
She shakes her head miserably.
“Well forgive me Madame,” he hisses bitterly, “for not catering to this whim as well.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Like hell it isn’t!”
Her heart thumps. She has never heard him swear.
“I have done everything for you!” He cries. “Everything that you have ever asked of me has been yours! I even rescued the man that you love, a man who isn’t me, so that I might seem worthy of you!” James wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“The why didn’t you come after me! Why didn’t you make the deal with Sparrow?!” Elizabeth’s own anguish turns into rage, and she directs it straight at him.
“Because I thought I was doing what was right!” He takes a step towards her. “I wanted to be right and I wanted Turner to be wrong!”
“Your pride,” she sneers, taking a step closer to him.
“All for you, Elizabeth!” Rage and pain have melted all sense of formality. “Everything has always been for you.” Another step. His voice is soft once more, but lit on the edges with an anger than can only be called otherworldly. “Don’t dare ask me now to pretend that I do not love you, for that is the one thing I shall keep.”
Who moves first is hard to tell, but in an instant she is in his arms, her body pressed up against his own and their lips locked. There is nothing sweet or civilized about the kiss, there is only a passion that neither party knew was there, and so now it nearly consumes them, filling each with surprise and a new wave of misery because of it. James’s kiss is unrelenting; the kiss of a starving man who knows that he shall never eat again. The gentleman is gone, and Elizabeth’s soft moan of acquiescence is all the encouragement that he needs. He pulls her closer, if such a thing is possible, and fists his hands through her hair, his lips trailing small, biting kisses against her jaw and neck.
Elizabeth is lost; drowning is what can only be described as the most blissful pain any human being has ever felt. This is not the man she pledged to marry today. This is the man that she gave up.
“So this is the path you choose?”
“It is…
The young memory is like a slap in the face. This is all wrong, all of it. The scent of James on her body, the taste of him in her mouth-this shouldn’t feel so perfect.
He rakes a hand across her hipbone, and Elizabeth’s mouth opens in a violent gasp. If he took her now, they would both have no choice. He would be honor bound to marry her, and she to him. The idea is almost appealing. Her hands would be tied, and for the rest of their lives she would probably pretend to hate him for it, all the while being secretly glad that had taken the choice away.
But James Norrington is a better man than that.
So he breaks the kiss.
He is breathing heavily; so is she.
“You love Turner.”
There they are, the words that are breaking her in two from the inside out. William. Yes, she does love him, with all her heart she does.
“James.”
His name sounds beautiful on her lips, but he can bear no more.
“You love Turner.”
Elizabeth does not answer, and James briefly wonder if this is his moment, his one chance to break Turner’s hold on the woman that he has loved for as long as he can remember. He traces a finger across her lips, lips that are swollen because of his kiss…
But James Norrington is a better man than that.
“I loved you,” he says simply, and Elizabeth sinks into the chair, he eyes frozen with tears that refuse to fall. When she does not move, when she does not stir from the agony that has gripped her, James leaves the office for the docks.
By the time the sun rises, he has already set sail