Norrington had always considered the wild blue ocean as a living thing rather than the complex set of trade routes and political skirmishes His Majesty's Navy tended to reduce it to. Standing in the fo'castle of a proud and seaworthy vessel, and staring into an oncoming squall that had turned the water flat and black, for instance, or riding that same vessel straight into a deep trough of a seething, roaring wave, one tended to imagine that the ocean was alive.

In a way one suspected might not still be true for ship and self at the bottom of the trough.

These were the kind of thoughts Norrington kept to himself as he moved from one posting to another, sailing under a series of portly, solid commanders, Naval men through and through, committed to King and country, the dominance of England on land and sea.

But staring out across at that vast expanse of water—waves as far as the eye could see and beyond that only clouds—Norrington found it hard to believe any man could truly dominate that ocean. As if in answer a wave crashed against the railing, sending a spray of saltwater up onto the deck.

"You love her, don't you?" The voice was low and raspy with rum, right next to Norrington's ear.

"Who might that be, Captain Sparrow?" Norrington wriggled his hands in their bonds, the hard line of the mast at his spine. His shoulders ached but he hoped he'd kept that from his voice.

"How're the shoulders, James? They're not stiffening up on you, are they?"

Damn, Norrington thought. Damn, damn, damn.

"I'm quite comfortable, thank you," he said instead. "Although I'd be more comfortable were I released and were you trussed up in my place as is your due as a p—"

"A-a-ah!" Jack popped up in front of Norrington and held one grubby finger to Norrington's lips. "It's fine for me and the lads to say it, but I'm starting to get superstitious, love. I'm starting to believe any time you come aboard and say—" Jack narrowed his eyes. "The p-word, things tend to go badly from thereon out." He caressed Norrington's bottom lip with his finger.

Norrington bit at the offending digit and Jack jumped back in alarm. He regarded his finger closely.

"What would you have me call you, then?" Norrington continued. "Brigands? Common outlaw thieves? Highwaymen?"

"Highwaymen, James? Ah, see: therein lies the rub. Look at her."

"Look at who?"

"Her. The ocean." Jack moved to stand at Norrington's shoulder. Another wave crashed against the ship, sending up a fine mist that settled on Norrington's skin like a kiss.

"You love her, James. Don't try to deny it. You're as much addicted to her as you are—" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "As you are to me."

Norrington kept his eyes on the horizon. "Poppycock."

"...I'm sorry: what-ee-cock?"

"I am no more addicted to you than I am to rum or dancing girls or opium, and my relationship with the sea is none of your business. Have I mentioned I'll see you hung?"

"Oh I am, James. As you well know." Jack licked a long swipe along Norrington's jaw.

Norrington jerked his head away. "Release me now and I'll see that your suffering is brief. I'll ensure you hang with your own men instead of dying on your own or worse yet, out of sight of the ocean. Unlike some, I'm a fair man and quite aware of my duty."

"Your only duty, James," Jack whispered. "Is to the ocean... and your own heart." He leaned in close, sliding his jaw alongside Norrington's like a cat, back and forth. "The question is, my love, what will you choose? What will your decision be?"

Norrington closed his eyes, unable, as always to resist Jack once he'd crossed some boundary, some line of proximity. He wished his hands were free now for entirely different reasons than earlier. Jack brushed his lips over Norrington's temple. "I know I've made mine," he whispered. "The two of us have nothing in common, James. There's nothing that could possibly unite us save a force so much greater than anything else the world has ever known."

Norrington's eyes flew open. There was no mistaking the lust in Jack's voice. It made his own decision quite a bit easier. "Untie me," he commanded. "Now."

Jack grinned.

Very shortly after that, Norrington found himself on his back in Jack's bed, with his trousers mysteriously elsewhere. This didn't concern him as much as perhaps it ought to have, considering he also found Jack there, too, in a likewise trouserless state. As Jack straddled Norrington's hips and bore down with a fierce yell, Norrington had only one regret: from this position, it was impossible to see the ocean.