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Silver Lining
by Tiggothy
Pairing: Sparrington
Rating: Suitable, though possibly not interesting, for all
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean is owned by Disney, etc. No infringement intended.
Originally Posted: 7/11/05
Note: A melding of several ideas; begun as a comedy, it got a bit angsty but hopefully not too much
Warning: Random original characters dropping in and out & mentioned in passing. Possible confusion due to time-jumps.
Summary: A lot can happen in nine-and-a-half years.
It was widely believed that the outer wall of the fort was nigh on impossible to scale. Commodore Norrington had always encouraged this belief for a variety of reasons: personal, political and nefarious. Captain Sparrow, of course, knew that it was a complete fallacy; one simply needed to pay close and careful attention to the placing of one's hands and feet. For example, here was a wonderful toehold, but if one placed too much weight over there one ran the risk of sliding to one's doom on the rocks below. That said however, practice makes perfect, and he had certainly had enough practice to know that here, here and there was the optimal route because then one could, with the greatest of ease, swing one's leg over the windowsill of Commodore Norrington's office.
He stopped. Froze, in fact. Stared in astonishment at the man behind the desk; the man who quite blatently wasn't Commodore Norrington.
"Mr Cadwallader, fetch some irons," Captain Gillette rapped out the smooth order as he aimed a pistol in the direction of the pirate poised at the unorthodox entrance to the room, "Captain Sparrow, do join us for a while. Commodore Norrington mentioned that you might drop by, and he left very strict instructions as to our actions in that eventuality."
Cornered. Whilst it was technically possible to depart the same way he'd approached, the route was rather precarious and his chances of survival would be considerably lessened should the earnest captain order a section of marines to fire at him during his descent. Sullenly he slid from his perch to stand inside the room as the young lieutenant, Cadwallader, returned with the requested cuffs and chains. With the notorious pirate captain suitably disarmed and secured, Captain Gillette again dismissed Lieutenant Cadwallader; this time, in search of Commander Groves.
A few months earlier...
"Lieutenant Cadwallader reporting for duty, sir!"
Commodore Norrington stifled a smile at the youthful enthusiasm shining through the young man's layers of discipline and seriousness. Casting an approving eye over the neatness of the lieutenant's uniform, he held out a hand to receive the dispatches from London. With a last glance over the sloop the new officer had arrived on, the commodore strode back to the fort, ordering Cadwallader to follow with his belongings.
***
Gillette rapped smartly on the door to the commodore's office before entering. Sleep-deprived eyes flickered up to identify him, and a brief smile passed across Norrington's face. "Ah, Captain, good of you to come. Have a seat." After waving a hand at the only available chair in the sparsely furnished room, he lapsed once more into silence, studying the documents before him. After a few minutes, Captain Gillette cleared his throat.
"You sent for me, sir?"
"Yes. I'm just trying to leave everything in order for you here, Gillette."
"Sir?" Confusion wrinkled his brow.
Norrington looked up with a falsely bright smile, "I've been recalled to English waters, Captain. That leaves you the senior officer here. Everything should be in order for you." Lifting the paper he'd just been writing on, he folded it neatly and handed it across the desk, "Please read these instructions carefully, and follow them precisely. That is the only request I will make of you, and now," He stood, Gillette shooting up a split second later, "I must pack my belongings. My ship leaves tomorrow." Clasping hands with his successor, Commodore Norrington shrugged away the command he'd held for the past six years.
A few months later...
"Commodore Norrington?" questioned one of the marines on guard at the busy dockyard offices, "I'm sorry, Commander, I don't know of any Commodore Norrington."
"There's Admiral Norrington," suggested his partner, face screwed up with the effort of thinking.
"He's an admiral though; the gentleman asked for a commodore," objected the first, "besides, you shouldn't go tellin' people tha'! What if he were a spy?"
Commander Groves mentally rolled his eyes. Wherever one travelled, it seemed, one would encounter men of the same ilk as Messers. Murtogg and Mullroy. "I've just arrived from the Caribbean," he interrupted the discussion, "news of promotions travels aggravatingly slowly at times. Please inform Admiral Norrington that Commander Groves is holding a prisoner for him aboard the Naiad."
The two marines stood in open-mouthed astonishment at the ramrod-straight retreating back of the young naval officer before falling into a new argument over who would carry the message to the high-and-mighty Admiral.
"Y'know, y'could jes' let me go," Captain Sparrow greeted the young officer on his return aboard the sloop Naiad, "Promise I'll be good."
Groves favoured him with the briefest of withering glances. Sparrow winced; Groves was getting far too practised at those looks. "Why on earth, Captain Sparrow, would I go to all the trouble of shipping you half way around the world only to let you go free?"
Jack shrugged and grinned from his perch on a coil of rope, "Because you can't bear the thought of a rope burn marring my pretty neck?" he suggested coquettishly, fluttering his eyelashes. Groves scowled in response and with a crestfallen look, the pirate slunk back below decks, chains clinking in mournful rhythm with his slurred step.
***
"Yes?" The tone was sharper than it should have been; Norrington silently reprimanded himself as young Mr Blake announced a marine with a message from the dock.
"Admiral Norrington, sir?"
"Yes?" Even with a softer tone, the marine seemed to be quaking in his boots. Did he truly have that bad a reputation amongst the men here? Or was it something else? Perhaps the man had been drinking, in which case a sharp word with his captain would be in order. Thus his well-trained mind, as ever, processed multiple streams of information; speculating about his sub-ordinates' well-being even as he listened and responded to the message.
"Commander Groves is holding a prisoner for you aboard the Naiad, sir."
He nodded in acknowledgment of the message and dismissal of the soldier, his expression hopefully betraying none of his inner turmoil. Even if there had been more than one Naiad in the fleet, such a deliberately loose-worded message as that pointed to only one Commander Groves, and one prisoner; and that meant the dispatch he'd sent to Captain Gillette four months ago informing him of his new status and changing his orders regarding that particular criminal had not arrived. In turn, that brought up numerous auxiliary questions regarding the fate of the ship and crew with which he'd sent his message; but those questions would have to wait for investigation; right now, he had to sort out this mess which he'd created for himself on the day he'd heard of his recall and issued the fateful orders to Captain Gillette.
In the aft cabin of the Naiad, Commander Groves was resolutely ignoring Captain Sparrow's insouciant pout; designed and refined by the pirate over the course of their voyage, its every nuance irritated the naval officer beyond belief. Outright rudely ignoring him was therefore the only solution.
Lieutenant Cadwallader knocked and entered; in the brief moment between these actions the expressions of the two men slid from lustful and aggravated to sullen and disinterested respectively.
"Admiral's barge approaching, sir," reported the blond-haired officer.
"Very good, Lieutenant," Groves' response was every inch the respectable commanding officer as he clapped his three-cornered hat neatly in place, "ready to pipe him aboard?"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Groves nodded then turned to glare at Sparrow. "You," he warned, "stay out of the way until you're wanted."
"Aye, aye, sir," the captain echoed the lieutenant with a mocking salute thrown in for good measure.
***
"I believe you have a prisoner for me?" Norrington's smile was warm but his greeting brusquely businesslike.
"This way, sir." Groves led his superior to the aft cabin.
"Commodore!" Jack's grin was instant and his voice warm as he identified the newcomer. A slight frown creased his brow as hungry eyes skittered over brocaded uniform. "My apologies. Admiral," he corrected himself.
James smiled tightly, turned to Groves. "Thank you. That will be all for now." Dismissed, the younger officer could only turn and leave, curiosity gnawing at him.
Jack's eyes narrowed and his smile broadened, but James raised a hand indicating a desire for silence from the prisoner.
"Jack, I'm afraid..." he began hesitantly, "I... things have changed. I'm sorry." He turned, facing away from the pirate whose smile vanished and spine straightened.
"You had me dragged half way round the world, in chains, to break things off between us?" he asked incredulously.
James inspected the contrast of his shiny silver buckles against the matt black leather of his shoes. "Unintentionally," he admitted.
"You unintentionally left orders with Captain Gillette to have me arrested and shipped over to you in England?"
Sarcasm doubled for pain and James winced, but his tone remained gentle, apologetic, "No, at that time my greatest wish was for your company. However, my re-drafted orders obviously never arrived in Port Royal; or at least, not prior to your arrival."
"Changed your mind when you got here, did you?"
"Not immediately, but circumstances..."
"You mean you got promoted."
"No!" Green eyes flashed angrily upwards. "This is nothing to do with my career!"
There was a heartbeat's pause as both men recovered from the shock of Norrington's crashing outburst.
"Then what...?" Jack left the enquiry open-ended, and carefully removed all trace of sarcasm from his speech.
James took a steadying breath before giving the only honest answer he could. "I'm married now, Jack."
The pirate's eyes widened and he sat down hard on the lone chair. Questions played across his face as, in grief and disbelief, he drank in every nuance of his former lover's expression.
Lacking a chair, James rested against the edge of the cot, firmly grasping the chains from which it hung. He spoke in a voice at once soothing yet tightly controlled. "If I hadn't left when I did ten years ago, it would have happened within a month or two. If I had returned at any point between then and now, it would have happened then," he tried to explain, "It's not about you and me, Jack. In fact," his eyelids dropped closed with the volume of his voice as he confessed the truth for the first time, "every thought of you encourages regret for such an action."
Pain-drenched, bewildered dark gaze swept over the admiral's countenance during this feeble offering of comfort. "Why then?"
"Jamie." So soft it could barely be termed even a whisper; yet what else could it be named? An exhalation of love? Of pride? Of commitment?
Jack peered at him, closely inspecting the officer for indications of lunacy. "Aye luv, that's yer name," he confirmed.
James' lips twitched in a welcome first smile as he shook his head, "No, Jack. I'm James; Jamie is my son."
"Oh."
"Indeed. Nine and a half years old, bright as a button, and the spitting image of his old da'."
Jack swallowed, nodded, then smiled and held out his manacled wrists. "Well then, if you'd care to rid me of these cumbersome burdens I'll be wishin' ye all the best and makin' meself scarce as can be. What do you say to that, eh?"
James laughed. Rich, warm, utterly familiar, and produced the key which he'd lifted from Groves' pocket in a light-fingered move learned from the man before him. "I'm afraid you'll have to swim for it."
"I won't encounter anything that a warm bed and gentle-hearted soul to share it with won't cure. You're the one who'll be suffering when ye have to write yer report about how I escaped."
The lock clicked and the admiral smiled dryly as he brushed his lips against a tanned piratical cheek. "I'll survive."
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