He sat at the desk and sorted through the neat stacks of paper again, looking for something of use he might have missed the first time. Finding nothing more of interest he leaned back in the chair and stared out the window at the cloudless skies, the rich pinks and reds of the sunset beginning to fade into a darker purple. There are those who claim that midnight is the witching hour, but he knew better. In the bright sunshine the events of the past weeks seemed unreal and misty, whilst the moonlight had proved useful in revealing the true nature of the phantasms. No, it was this curious time between day and nightfall that was when the veil between the worlds was the thinnest. In the quiet half-light the memories of reaching skeletal hands, the feel of tattered cloth wrapped around cool bone and the stench of death and fear and gunpowder were all far too vivid. Admittedly the night brings other more mundane horrors, but he knew better than most how much could be ignored or hidden when honest men were abed. The things abroad in the twilight, however, tended to be either too foolish or too dangerous to wait until the cover of darkness—which was why they were so feared. He watched as the sun finally slipped under the horizon, unconsciously seeking out the familiar early stars and noting the new ships moored in the harbour. He smiled to himself; there were some, especially down there, who'd regard him as one of those dangerous things...

He returned his attention to the desk, briefly checking that the drawers were still locked before tapping a finger against his teeth thoughtfully. It was really too dark not to set the lamp but he made no move to do so, instead crossing to the bookcase and swearing softly as he accidentally knocked the key down behind the heavy books. Prize safely retrieved, he was just about to unlock the first drawer when he heard the soft footsteps behind him, a mere second before the whisper of a sword being drawn. He only had time to wonder why he hadn't heard him sooner, before said sword had been firmly pressed against the side of his throat.

A long moment passed. He held as still as he possibly could but couldn't help noticing that the sword did not appear to be leaving his throat. In fact, if anything, the pressure was increasing. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. At last the blade dropped as the other man stepped back. "What do you think you're doing, Sparrow?"

The pirate turned slowly; taking the fact he wasn't immediately run through as a good sign, he pushed his luck further by backing up to perch on the edge of the desk. "Waiting for you."

The commodore merely watched as Jack managed to lounge on the desk a little more insolently before continuing, "I confess I found myself curious as to how things were here."

Norrington still hadn't moved, but his eyes flicked to take in the papers scattered over the desktop.

"So I see. Your concern is touching if a little misplaced, I assure you that all has returned to normal here. Everything is perfectly fine. You on the other hand appear to be both trapped and trying my patience."

Jack peered round the room as if noticing where he was for the first time, then grinned cheerfully at him. "So I am, but not for long. I'm really only here to thank you"

The commodore tilted his head, the unspoken question clear.

Jack gestured expansively, "For the head start. It was decent of you, and truth be told I wasn't expecting it."

"Not that its apparently done you any good."

Jack stood slowly and swayed a little closer. "You haven't caught me yet."

Now a thread of impatience wove through the icy tone. "For God's sake, Sparrow. There's no escape."

Jack edged ever closer, grin golden in the gloom. "Humour me."

Norrington shook his head bemused, "You truly believe your own legends don't you? You think you have the luck of the devil."

Jack leaned closer, conspiratorially. "We all make our own luck, devil included."

Norrington sighed. "Don't you understand? It doesn't matter if its tonight or not, I will catch you."

Jack, close enough to touch now, laughed, "Oh, I'm counting on it." He suddenly lunged forward even as he threw the desk key at the startled commodore. Norrington flinched back, unbalanced as he tried to simultaneously grab the pirate, bat away whatever had been thrown and raise the sword. By the time he'd recovered himself enough to run to the window, he wasn't surprised to find the pirate had vanished into the gloom.

He stood at the window for a long moment, still not quite understanding how he'd let Sparrow slip through his fingers. Again. He allowed himself a rare smile as he thought about Sparrow's cryptic parting words; he doubted it would happen a third time.