PotC fic: Though Faith Was Tried (1/1)

[mimesere]

For latxcvi's Isn't It Iconic ficlet-a-thon.

TITLE: Though Faith Was Tried
AUTHOR: Sheila (mimesere@earthlink.net)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Old friends and new beginnings.
DISCLAIMER: House of Mouse.



For LaT.  *mwah*

*

"What will become of you, James?" asked Will quietly.  They sat outside Will's home in the colonies -- the United States, now, and no longer any concern of Norrington's -- and watched the sun set.  It lit briefly on a simple cross on a hill, spilling across the edges like melted gold, and sank still further.  Will turned his eyes away, but if he closed them in age or weariness or still-aching grief, Norrington could not tell.

Norrington looked down at his hands, scarred and still strong, though by right of age Norrington should have been buried long since.  "It has become of me," he said, just as quietly.  Will made an impatient sound and Norrington laughed.  "I will find something to do.  Rejoin the Navy, perhaps.  Find a...cure.  Though perhaps cure is the wrong word."

"An ending?"

"Yes," said Norrington.  "I will find an ending."

But endings were not some trinket to be purchased in a foreign port and when it seemed that he would go on, no matter the passage of years, Norrington resigned himself to the knowledge that there was no peace to be found save that which he took for himself. 

And so it went, the long, slow turning of tide and time, until he found himself again in Jamaica. Habit, long since thought forgotten, took him a few steps toward Fort Charles before he remembered himself and stopped.  Norrington closed his eyes and took a deep breath, orienting himself.  He ducked into Bartholomew Fair, an inn just off the docks.  It had been there years ago, and he remembered that his lieutenants had loved it.

As, it seemed, did the entire sailing world of the Caribbean. 

Norrington looked around.  They were common sailors for the most part, in rough cloth and drinking cheerfully.  The man he had been would not have been welcome, but it had been years since he held a proper rank.  There was a table near the back that looked to have an open seat. 

He felt light fingers on his arm, curling around it just above his elbow.  Then, quietly, "Buy you a drink, mate?"

Norrington froze.  He knew that voice.  He *knew* it.  He turned slowly and...yes.

"Jack Sparrow," said Norrington carefully.  It had been far, far more than fifty years and Jack had changed not the least bit.

Jack nodded at him.  "Commodore."  He smiled then, quick and flashing.  "It’s been far too long."

Comments

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