Will Turner was more than surprised when Commodore Norrington arrived in his smithy, sans the wig, hat and coat of office, wearing instead a fine coat of warm grey with emerald embroidery and gold accents. Norrington cleared his throat. "Good evening, Mr. Turner. I'm sorry to arrive unannounced, but I was hoping that I might have a word with you." The authoritative edge to his voice was less sharp, now, and he had relaxed the mask of control that usually made his countenance so distant.

Will had gotten to his feet upon Norrington's entrance, and, dressed in soot- and sweat-coated work clothes (breeches, hose, and a battered shirt that had once been cream-colored, as well as a waistcoat that no longer had any definable color) he made a point to look as proud as he had the day, not yet a week ago, that he had saved Jack Sparrow from the gallows. He nodded at Norrington and gestured toward the bench on the other side of his work table, which currently had several swords lined up on its surface: three polished to perfection, and in his hand Will held another, which he was in the process of bringing to the same level of shine. "Of course, Commodore; although I apologize for the relative lack of proper seating."

A faint half-smile tugged at Norrington's lips for a moment. "I have been a sailor for more than half my life, Mr. Turner, and have both sat in and stood through far worse conditions." He approached slowly, shedding his coat and draping it over the least occupied corner of the table before seating himself on the bench. "It is warm here, and dry, and not infested with rats. Therefore your position in life is rather more comfortable than mine was, when I was your age. Then again, if I had been less inclined towards mischief, I would not have gotten to know the bilges so well, but that is neither here nor there."

Taking his seat on the stool he had occupied before his interruption, Will once more set about polishing. "I have learned, of recent, what it is like to be a sailor." There was an edge to it.

Norrington took a deep breath, resting one arm on the table as he said quietly, "Mr. Turner." He waited until William met his gaze. "I would like to apologize for my words and my behavior the day that you approached me on behalf of Elizabeth's rescue effort. I was, I know, exceedingly rude, in letting my own frustration get the better of me. You, I know, felt much the same way at the time, and instead of letting myself sympathize with you, I lashed out in a crude fashion, and for that I am sorry."

Will blinked a few times in surprise, then looked away. "I was hardly acting in any polite fashion that day, myself, Commodore."

"Yes, but as your elder and because I, often misguidedly, try to pride myself on being a civilized and clear-thinking man, I should have better controlled my own anger in response. More than my fear for Miss Swann, I believe that a... competitiveness, drove me to act as I did. It would have served both of us better if I had been clear-headed enough to give your words and intentions their due measure of consideration. Perhaps if I had listened to you, then..." His voice threatened to waver, and he trailed off, a flare of guilt and sincere hurt crossed his features before he could mask it. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued, "I lost a number of good men at the Isla de Muerta. They could have been spared. In that respect, I have failed in my duties both to the navy and to myself."

For a long moment, Will watched the older man, but James' gaze was on the swords laid out on the table; he would not, could not look at Will again just yet. The blacksmith took a steadying breath. "I accept your apology, Commodore Norrington, if you will in turn forgive me for provoking you with my own anger, which I did not bother trying to control. I did, after all, abandon all decorum and put a hole in your map." Will looked away, vaguely chagrined. The commodore was right: if either of them had been able to get a grip and consider the matters at hand calmly, then...

In that moment, he happened to miss the way that Norrington frowned slightly and tilted his head, looking at something reflected in the surface of the polished swords. Spotting it, the commodore stilled for a moment, but did not look surprised; then he schooled his expression into a careful and inscrutable blank as Will's voice once more interrupted his thoughts.

"I plan to put more care and devotion into my manners, not only for my own sake." The blacksmith looked at Norrington again, who now met his gaze.

A slightly bitter smile touched the commodore's lips, but a glint of something brighter and more like mischief may have lingered, barely visible, in the depths of his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Turner."

Not noticing it, William asked, as conversationally as possible, "If I might inquire, Commodore, why have you not yet begun to chase Captain Jack Sparrow?" His eyebrows lifted a little.

James smirked, but let on nothing more in his expression. "I have, in my way. Without the Interceptor in Port Royal's fleet—" a flare of anger crossed his expression, but he made a point of not aiming it directly at William "—we have no chance of catching up with the Black Pearl. Even had I leapt with all haste, the day that her captain fell off the fort, to the Dauntless to give chase, it would have served only to lower my men's morale further when the faster ship escaped us before sunset. It was better to let them think that we were allowing for a bit of sport, in giving him 'one day's head start' as I told them that day; however, instead of trying to chase his ship, I am using alternative means to keep track of his movements."

Despite looking a bit sheepish at the mention of the Interceptor, Will still managed to sound self-assured as he asked, "Spies, you mean?"

"Yes. I have, for a number of months actually, been coordinating an information-gathering network based in Tortuga itself. The town is, after all, kept running by British political support. Otherwise, the Spanish would have erased it from the map by now."

Will gaped. "You have spies in Tortuga?"

"Not precisely, but I have a few select, trusted men who can enter Tortuga without anyone giving them a second glance, and they, in turn, have been building relationships with a number of relatively prominent people in the town, who see and hear much and will give that information to us, either accidentally or for money, depending on the person in question." James raised his eyebrows. "Are you quite alright, William?"

The blacksmith's eyes were wide and his skin was rather pale. He had the distinct feeling that he had been greatly underestimating this man for a long time. "I am—merely surprised, Commodore. It all sounds rather unexpectedly devious, all things considered."

Norrington smirked. "You will need to get a better grasp of politics, then, Mr. Turner, for it gets outright vicious in those circles, making military strategy look childish." A hint of bitterness touched his expression. "I myself am a military man, and not so skilled at politics as rank might indicate; your betrothed, however, could probably teach the both of us a great deal."

Being reminded of Elizabeth's brief and less-than-sincere engagement to this man made Will wince slightly. "I suppose, really, that there is little difference between politics and piracy, then?"

"Indeed," Norrington sighed, rubbing his left temple as though trying to sooth an oncoming headache. "Pirates, however, are rather more honest about their trade and their selfish intentions, which I am coming to reluctantly appreciate." His mask cracked again, this time showing conflict, pain, and more anger and frustration than William had imagined the stoic commodore capable of. Quickly, Norrington took a deep breath, his expression clearing. "I do not, however, have the luxury of firing upon the most deserving; I must fire upon those whose actions both place them in the public eye and indicate them, via the law, to be danger to the public. I serve the law, and I serve my men. I am left to try my best, then, to protect them from both politicians and pirates." He tried to smile, but did not quite manage it, and looked away, his gaze once more on the swords.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but found that he could think of nothing to say and closed it again. He was, however, wary when Norrington picked up one of the polished swords, holding it up to the light from the smithy.

"You have, I noticed, become a very talented swordsman, William, as well as one of the finest sword-smiths I've ever met."

Being called by his given name by the man, for the first time in years, Will felt a glow of pride. "Thank you. In both respects, I had most excellent teachers when I required them." His smile tentatively showed his gratitude, for not just the compliment, but for the fencing lessons as well.

Norrington smiled. "Thank you, but it has been a few years since then, and you have, it would seem, only continued to improve in my absence, and quite impressively I might add." Norrington tilted the sword so that the well-polished blade reflected the same sight as before, only this time the pirate hiding overhead seemed to notice the potential danger and made the effort to duck behind one of the rafters; his boots, however, were still visible. Casually, as though he were completely unaware of the close proximity of one Captain Jack Sparrow, James continued, "Do you know that I envy you, William?"

"Er..." An awkward, almost fearful look crossed the blacksmith's face.

"Not only for your connection to Elizabeth, although that has always been a part of it, I suppose, ever since she grew into such a fine woman. I envy you for your youthful abandon, and for the time you are able to spend free of the influence of others telling you exactly how you must think and behave." An almost wistful look crossed James' features. "I will advance no further in my naval career, in spite of my skills or even eventually my seniority in years yet to come, unless I finish selling my soul to politics and destroy my heart in order to be rid of my love of the sea, because they will wish to keep me in offices and behind desks instead of on the deck of any ship, even if the ships are meant to be mine." He turned the sword in his hand and let it sway back and forth a little in his grip so that he could feel how well it was balanced. He placed it back on the table. "Four grams heavy along the blade," he said quietly.

"I know. About—about the sword, I knew, but about the rest I... I'm sorry."

Norrington nodded slightly. His smile was cynical. "As am I."

"Why, then, if I may ask, did you accept promotion?"

"For the same reason that it was offered: because I am the most qualified, despite not having the seniority usually required. My skills in regards to strategy have impressed the politicians. My practical nature and my more practical skills, as well as the callouses on my hands, have impressed the sailors, and continues to impress the men who serve under me. That, added to my authoritative nature makes me a most sensible commander. The politicians, however, have scarcely begun to learn how difficult I am to sway in regards to their 'interests' when those interests are neither practical nor honorable. It will not be easy, once that starts." He took a deep breath. "I met the other possible candidates for my rank. I could not inflict such men as them upon my myself or my men. That is the extent of my ambitions."

Will smiled slightly. "You've not changed as much as I'd feared, then... James."

The commodore looked up, and smiled sincerely, albeit with the same sardonic air that often permeated his speaking voice. "No. I am still the same sailor and swordsman, even after the years since our day-to-day lives made our fencing lessons nearly impossible to schedule. I do hide it well under all the brocade, do I not?" His smile took on a conspiratorial edge.

"Incredibly. After they sent you off with the East India company four years ago, it seemed like you had come back a stranger."

"In a way, I had," James murmured. "I suffered under politics there as a songbird would suffer being held underwater. It aged me, and for a time I was not myself. I am only sorry that our friendship suffered for it; it had always been my intention to try and look out for you, since we pulled you from the sea, but after a nearly a year spent under Lord Beckett's command, it took all of my concentration just to look after my own neck in order make sure it was still going to keep my head attached, and take equal care of my men as well. I could not see very far beyond that for a long time. And even then, when things quieted down somewhat, it seemed to me that you lacked any interest in speaking to me, and you were more than busy taking over more and more of Mr. Brown's work as he... well." James cleared his throat and glanced over towards where the man in question lay on the other side of the smithy, once more unconscious and insensible with a mostly-empty whiskey bottle close at hand.

"I understand. At least, I do now," Will murmured. "Although, I was extremely angry with you for ages, I admit. You and the navy; because you had treated me like family, and the navy had let the sea take you away, as seemed to be a pattern in my life with people I looked up to." He smiled, pushing away the more melancholy thoughts with a flare of hopefulness. "Perhaps we can try to go back to that again, James: the friendship, at least, for all that we have grown very distant. It will both shock Elizabeth speechless in the short run and give her peace of mind in the long, which would be reason enough."

James smiled. "I do still rather miss those lessons, as well. You learned quickly enough to prevent me growing complacent; now, however, you could probably provide me a very real challenge."

"Now that we shall definitely have to test." Will's smile widened.

"We shall indeed, but not tonight, I am afraid." James pulled out a pocketwatch and glanced at the time. "I'm expected to dine with the governor, as well as a wealthy family visiting him, whose daughter Miss Swann has insisted upon my meeting with." He eyed Will pointedly. "Will you do me a favor, William, and please encourage your betrothed to cease her matchmaking habits? I am still recovering my pride as it is, and do not need her already prodding me toward other young women of standing in order to attempt to somehow pull me out of what she perceives to be my melancholy. I appreciate her concern, but this..." He tucked away his watch with a sigh, shaking his head.

Will stifled a laugh, with minimal success. "Ah yes, Miss Ashburn. I met her yesterday. She has, at least, a quick wit, so it shouldn't be nearly as horrible as you're thinking, James. Also, you know very well that I could encourage Elizabeth to the full extent of my abilities and not change her mind in the least."

James smiled faintly. "True, I suppose."

"I... am sorry, James. That one of us had to lose in this. I... had honestly thought that she would chose you."

"And I knew, though I scarcely let myself contemplate it and was indeed fairly distracted at the time—be that as it may, on some deeper level, I suppose I knew that she never would," James mused. "But I did not want to leave you behind, either, and only the Governor truly stood in my way. If I could have stood against him on my own..." He sighed. "The governorship of Weatherby Swann, despite some of the man's less than perceptive qualities in regards to those not close to him in societal standing, is the only thing still standing in the way of Lord Beckett swooping in and using Port Royal as his seat from which to control all trade in the Caribbean, and I know enough of Beckett's methods to want to keep him out, for the sake of all." Norrington's brow furrowed, and he massaged his temple again. "I think, after all that has happened, that I shall need a holiday sometime soon, if I am to remain sane somehow."

"You definitely deserve one," Will mused.

"Mayhap," James sighed, but he paired it with a smirk. He slowly got to his feet. "I fear I must be going, William. I... am very sincerely glad we have been able to mend our bridges instead of burning them." He held out his hand.

Will reached across the table and shook it, smiling brightly. "I am as well."

"Thank you," James added quietly, and then picked up his coat, shrugging into it as he turned away. At the door, however, he paused and, without turning, called, "Oh, one more thing, William..."

"Yes?"

"Do inform Captain Sparrow that he is not nearly so stealthy as he thinks himself to be, and that next time he should find somewhere more concealed to hide than the open rafters over your smithy."

Will choked audibly, as did the pirate in the rafters.

James smirked, stepping out the door without a single backwards glance. "A good evening to you both."

"And to you, Commodore," Jack called, his voice not quite managing to sound as blithe and casual as the pirate had intended it to, due to the slight nervous timbre that entered it when he said the man's title.

With a low chuckle, scarcely audible, James let the door snap shut.

After a few moments of shocked silence as the commodore's footsteps faded, Will cursed profusely. "Jack," he groaned, his voice openly scolding.

"When the Hell did he spot me? I think it was your swords. Did ye have to polish 'em so bloody well?"

"It really doesn't matter, the fact is: you've been spotted by the Commodore!"

"Well, young William, it does not quite sound as though he's exactly calling in the militia, now does it? Curious, that is, ay?"

Will did not have to look; he could hear Jack contemplating chaos, even without seeing the thoughtful-and-theatrically-devious way that the pirate was stroking his braided beard. With exasperation, Will said warningly, "Jack. Whatever it is that you might be thinking: Stop."

"Besides, it seems to me that you and the commodore are on surprisingly good terms, lad." Jack was climbing down, now. His voice sounded almost petulant. The pirate found himself wishing that he had known more about this facet of the commodore's personality to begin with.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, Will exhaled through gritted teeth. "That's no excuse to provoke him."

"You never mentioned ye used to be close to the man." The look he shot the young man was one demanding some form of explanation.

"He was on the ship that found me at sea, when the merchant ship I was on was attacked by Barbossa and the Black Pearl. He took me under his wing somewhat, and he and Governor Swann found my apprenticeship for me. I asked him, a few years later, to teach me to fight, and he taught me most all I know, before... well, you overheard everything, I trust."

"Taught you almost all ye knew, ay? Including all those little rules that you still tend to trip over? Does he fight just as proper? If so ye can definitely beat him now."

"I have not seen him fight for more than practice, and even then he still fought officers, and therefore tended to fight by the rules. He's successfully hunted pirates for years, though, and lived this long doing it; if he's really not changed as I thought he had... well, he has his share of interesting tricks up his sleeve, Jack." He looked at the pirate, who was now approaching his table.

Jack rubbed his forearm with a bit of a frown. "Aye. I suppose that he does. I should've guessed that earlier." Then, a subject change: "Now, he talked about a man called Beckett..."

"Yes. Elizabeth mentioned before that that was who James served under when he was temporarily transferred out of Port Royal. I'm not sure quite what happened, but apparently it was not a positive experience. Beckett also wants to extend his control over the East India Trading Company to get himself power here in the Caribbean."

Jack hissed, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "Good thing you've got a couple of more reasonable men keepin' him out, then."

"You know Beckett?"

"We've met," Jack muttered, dropping in Norrington's vacated seat. "It's a long tale, lad, and not one I'm inclined to tell without a lot more rum in my system; enough to pickle a pygmy elephant, in fact."

"The more I hear about this man, the less I like."

"For good reason. He's slimier than a hagfish."

"I will take your word for it."

Jack stared distractedly at the door. "He's really not called the lobsters in or anything. No boots stomping to your door... no disturbance at all..."

"Well, you weren't seen by the public this time, so he isn't obligated to act on the public's behalf," Will offered.

Jack's eyebrows raised.

Will cleared his throat. "It was something he mentioned during a lesson. He was in a very bad mood and could not quite mask it, and when I asked, he explained that he had to enforce a part of the law that day with which he did not agree. He said that the man he'd had to punish should have known better, as he was an intelligent man, and therefore hidden his indiscretions better. He called it, 'A matter of decency, if not actual virtue.'" Will smirked slightly. "If the man's rule-breaking had been better hidden, James would have been content to ignore it."

Jack considered this. "Ah, I see then. And this did not apply to me..."

"Because you are many things, Jack, but 'discreet' is not among them."

The pirate could not help but smirk at that. "Aye. That is most definitely true."

"Just as 'stealthy' is apparently not among them either." Will looked up into the rafters thoughtfully.

"Now that is not true in the least." Jack scowled. "I've a mind to have a word with the man."

Will's eyes widened. "Dear God, no."

"Why not? I'll be discreet."

"Because... because, Jack, he's still Commodore Norrington!"

"Commodore James Norrington. Aye, it is. Which is precisely why I think I need to be havin' a word with him about a few things. When do you think he'll leave dinner with dear Elizabeth and her misguided match-making tendencies?"

"Jack. Do not do this. I will lock you up myself if I have to."

The pirate gave a derisive snort. "You could try it, whelp, but you'd not succeed," he drawled, glaring at Will darkly.

Will backed down a little. "You're really serious about this? You want to 'chat' with Norrington? What on earth about, Jack?"

Jack patted Will's head, as though Will happened to be little more than a blacksmith-shaped labrador. "A wide number of things, my lad, but specifically that rotten bastard called Lord Cutler Bloody Beckett."

"I take it the 'Bloody' is what you personally call him, not actually the name his parents gave him."

"You can't really be sure. They were vicious creatures, too, as I understand."

"You're mad. Utterly and totally mad," Will muttered, but he sounded resigned.

"'Course I am. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Now where does the fine commodore live, then? Tell me or I'll be forced to work it out all by me onesie and I'm sure you can only imagine what that might entail."

Will winced at the thought. "God help us all."

"Yes, but only after you've helped me."

Reluctantly, Will told him.