He stood on the balcony of his newly-acquired mansion and leaned on the marble railing. The sun was setting and the sky was filling with indigo. He should have been happy. He had a lovely new wife of six months, his career was on track to reach the admiralty in another year or two, and the midwife had just announced that he was soon to be a father. But being happy and recognizing that one should be happy were two different things.

Black sails is what I'm looking for, He thought and sighed. But I doubt that I'll ever see them again. He turned and looked back through the door at Agnes. While she was no Elizabeth Swann, she was certainly a sweet young woman with a quiet beauty. Which made it all the more tragic that the last time he made love to her, he had to bite his lip to keep from calling the name of another--a highly inappropriate another. He turned back to the sunset and spotted something on the horizon. A small fishing boat returning from a day area, she was tacking lazily into port. Something about the way the little ship's *jib boom* swayed to and fro made him think of the sway of Jack's hips. It frightened him how his heart raced at the slimmest possibility that Jack Sparrow was returning to Port Royal.

"Jamie?" He turned at the name, his heart racing. "Are you all right?"

Without the *bouffant* wig that she had worn to the high tea earlier in the day, Agnes came barely to his chest in height. Her eyebrows raised when she saw the expression on his face. He attempted a smile to cover it. "My apologies, dear. I- The only person who ever called me that is my mother. I haven't been called that in a long time."

"Oh," She bit her lower lip, her blue-gray eyes speaking her self-doubt. "I'm sorry. Would you rather I not use it?"

Norrington nodded. "It brings up painful memories. It's best left in the past."

"I'm beginning to think I'll never find an endearment that fits you, husband," She smiled. "I understand though. I- Are you all right tonight? You seem distant."

"Do I?" James asked; he started to reach for her but ended up merely placing a hand on her upper arm. "I must apologize. I believe it was the conversation about the incident with the Black Pearl tonight. Apparently Captain Groves sent Gillette a letter detailing some unseemly rumors he had heard concerning myself and Jack Sparrow. Ridiculous, of course. I would prefer to forget all of it. Come, you need to step back inside; it's growing chilly out here."

"I'm fine. Can't a woman spend a little time with her husband? Or is that against some military regulation I haven't been informed of?" Agnes's face brightened considerably at James's sudden shy smile. "There it is. I do wish you would smile more. Well, if only for me. I'm quite sure I don't want you smiling around a certain blacksmith's wife."

James leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, wrapping his arms around her. "You have nothing to worry about. Mrs. Turner has eyes only for her husband."

Agnes rested her head against his lapel. "I wish I could be as certain about that as you are. I- Like tonight, there are times when, physically, you're here with me but your heart and mind are somewhere else. You would tell me if you were in love with someone else, would you not?"

To James's shock, his eyes teared up at her words. He tried to blink them away because he knew he dare not reach up to wipe them away. He swallowed with some difficulty. "I- To be quite honest with you, there is another but it was over long ago, before Miss Swann- pardon, Mrs. Turner broke my heart. You have nothing to fear."

He thanked the Good Lord that his face was in shadow when she looked up at him. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. Will you be coming to bed soon?"

"Soon, my dear. You go on," He accompanied her back into the house and kissed her. He then went to his study.

He passed by the open door to the former spare bedroom that was soon to be the nursery for their first child. Agnes had chosen a pleasant pale yellow for the color on the walls. There was no furniture as yet but several pieces were on order from England. The idea of being a father excited him in almost the same measure that it frightened him. He continued on to his study and fetched himself a brandy before relaxing into his leather armchair.

As he sipped the brandy, he remembered the trip from Petit Tabacq to the Isla de Muerta. There was no point to confining Sparrow to the brig or even putting him in irons. He wanted to go to the Isle of the Dead to get his ship back. James had absolutely no doubt that he would make certain they arrived safely but he knew that the pirate would be operating under his own agenda once the Black Pearl was in sight. Somehow, the thought that he might never see those black eyes again filled him with regret. After restoring the compass to Sparrow and breaking up a little conversation between the pirate and his fiancée, he retired to his cabin, feeling exhausted and enervated.

He had been hard at work on some paperwork. The only light in the cabin was the candle that flickered on his desk. He had intended to get as much sleep as possible but the whole scene earlier in the day with, first, Elizabeth then Sparrow pleading for him to pursue the Black Pearl disturbed his mind more than he cared to admit. He knew that he should be utterly devastated by the realization that his fiancée loved another but what bothered him more was the fact that the pirate's black eyes had nearly undone him.

There was a light knock at his door and he responded without consideration. "Come in."

The door opened and closed. He looked up to see which officer or sailor had entered and was startled to see the pirate leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, an obscene grin on his face. He rose and reached for his pistol immediately.

"What are you doing here?!"

Sparrow held his hands out in a display that he was unarmed and disinclined to harm him. "Easy, mate. Jus' wantin' t' know if you were feelin' awright. Saw how broken up ye were by the lass. Used t' know an ol' pirate who told me that havin' a thing oft ain't as nice as wantin' it, savvy?"

"Spare me your meaningless platitudes and your unwelcome sympathy. Leave before I have you escorted to the brig," He'd spoken the words in what he thought was the same tone he'd always used in dealing with the pirate. He was, apparently, mistaken.

"Ye don't mean that, Commodore," Sparrow said gently. "If ye never needed anythin' before, my guess is ye need a little sympathy right now. An' if it comes with a meaningless platitude or two, where's the harm, eh? Did ye love her truly?"

James lowered his gaze to the floor. After a few seconds, he tossed the pistol back onto his desk and turned away. "Does it matter?"

"Aye, love, it does," The husky voice murmured. "Pirates ain't impervious t' broken hearts, ye know. Nor are we impervious t' findin' ourselves in love with th' wrong one."

"What would you know about love, pirate?" James turned back and started when he realized Sparrow was barely a yard away. "Step back or I will--."

"Ye won't," Sparrow stepped closer. He reached a hand out to stroke Norrington's cheek. "Had me heart broken once. Can't say as I care fer the feelin'. I'm jus' wonderin' how broke yer heart is, hmm?"

James wanted to pull away but there was something about the sensation of that hand--the heat, the calluses, the implicit strength, the undeniable elegance--touching him that he couldn't. He reached up to grab the hand in his own, intending to pull it down, away, but ended up turning his head so that his lips brushed the palm. Sparrow moved even closer and, with his other hand applying pressure to his nape, pulled him down so that their mouths were inches apart.

"Jus' how broke is it, love?" Sparrow whispered, eyebrows raised. "An' just how easy will the repairs be, hmm?"

"A heart isn't like a ship," James found himself saying. "Tar and nails can't mend the damage."

When the hot, velvety lips crushed to his own, the panic caused James's heart to pound in his ears. They broke apart after a moment and Norrington panted for air. He tried to find his voice, something to say, but could only bury his face against the pirate captain's scarf. Sparrow's fingers worked lightly at the buttons of his shirt.

"Sparrow, I cannot--," James began to draw away.

Instead, Jack kissed him again, forcing James to stagger back toward the bed. He pushed the shirt halfway down James's arms and Norrington found himself on his back atop the soft wool blankets covering the bed, the pirate atop him. "Hush, darlin', o' course ye can. What better way t' be assured that ye're lovable than by bein' loved, hmm?"

At that instant, with the hard, warm flesh resting against him, the hot groin grinding against his own, James could not find a flaw in the logic. He felt Jack's mouth pass brief kisses across his own and fought to get his arms free. Finally, he managed to get one arm liberated and seized Jack by the shirt-collar, drawing him back up so that he could deepen the kisses. He would never have guessed that a pirate's kisses could be so gentle, that his lips could taste so good, or that his tongue could be so talented. Jack's fingers found his chest and James moaned involuntarily as the calluses scratched pleasantly across his pale flesh.

When Jack lowered his mouth to nibble lightly at James's Adam's apple, James pulled his other hand free and pushed Sparrow back. "Don't! I will not become some type of *catamite*--and certainly not to a pirate!"

Despite some attempt at vehemence in his tone, he heard the pirate chuckle. The sound was deep, infuriating, and made James's mast stand firmly. To his surprise, Sparrow shoved him back down onto the bed. He spoke as his hand began to unfasten James's breeches.

"First of all, love, a catamite is a boy an', thank the good Lord, ye don't happen t' be a stripling. Second, I fully intend fer this t' be an experience 'tween two equals, Commodore. I think ye'll enjoy it more, savvy?" Jack grinned at him and managed to pull his breeches down partway.

"Sparrow, I--Oh!" He wanted to protest the pirate's audacity, his presumption that this onslaught would be welcome. Instead, he could only moan incoherently as Sparrow's warm, wet mouth encompassed his manhood.

He wasn't sure how Sparrow managed to take his whole man Thomas into his mouth but he knew that it was the most amazing feeling he'd ever had. _I shouldn't let this continue,_ He thought, but the hands that reached for Sparrow's hair simply delved into the silken locks. His eyes fluttered closed. To his surprise, the face that appeared to him was not Elizabeth's but the pirate's. When he felt the palm start to massage his balls, the climax exploded through him.

His eyes snapped open a few seconds later when he felt the pirate drawing off his breeches, his hands skimming affectionately down the long legs. When he looked down at Sparrow, there was a fever-bright expression in his eyes. The look made the point of his sword rise again. He saw the pirate reach into the pocket of the vest he wore (and why the devil is he still clad? James found himself wondering) and draw out a small bottle. The odor that reached him when Sparrow opened the bottle was of lavender. Carefully, Sparrow drizzled oil across the fingers on his right hand. James understood what he meant to do and simply moaned helplessly. This was so wrong for so many reasons that he felt there was no other choice.

The fingers that pressed against his rear entrance seemed to burn. He stiffened involuntarily only to have Jack kiss his lower belly, his hot breath fanning the flames that were threatening to melt him from within. It reminded him of a time when he'd been manning a cannon during a battle in the dead of winter. The cold was so severe that he thought it would almost be preferable to die. They fired so many rounds that, when he'd gone to reload, the heat was so intense he felt his fingers blister. Despite the pain, there had been something about that moment that he'd longed to revisit. Whatever it was, he knew he was about to have a similar experience.

The first nimble digit that slid up into him made him catch his breath. It moved within him considerately, almost as if seeking permission. He heard himself whimper then felt Sparrow's other hand rub across his lower belly.

"How 'zat feel, darlin'? Doesn't hurt, does it?" The voice, so husky, made him sigh. "Commodore?"

"James," He spoke, his own voice strained as he began to tremble. "Call me James."

"James," The pirate grinned. "Ready fer more, darlin'?"

No! James's mind cried but his head was already nodding an affirmative. He gasped loudly when the second finger joined the first, both sliding up into him with a certainty that James found incredible. It was at that point that Jack found the special place that made his whole body spasm with pleasure. "Aye, love, there it is. Jus' look at that weapon rise. Such a beautiful thing!"

For James, the next few minutes were a blur of light in silence, the blood rushing in his ears preventing him from hearing anything, the pleasure dazing him so that his eyes were unable to focus. All because the pirate was working that delightful nodule within him.

"Hush now, Jamie," Jack was saying when he grew aware. The fingers within him had stilled and the fingers on his other hand were laid across his lips. "Wouldn't do t' have yer men discover us, would it? Ye're so pretty when you're impassioned, though, 'tis hard fer a simple pirate like me t' resist the urge. I think ye're ready, love."

"Ready?" He echoed, not sure what Jack meant at that instant.

He remembered whimpering as the fingers were withdrawn, leaving his hole agape and quivering as it waited to be filled. It seemed hours before Sparrow dropped his own breeches and lifted James's legs with his arms. He nearly cried out when the cock--so hot and hard it was like a poker fresh from the fire--plunged up inside him. He drew a ragged breath, almost a sob, as he felt Sparrow moving his hips tentatively as if hunting something. When James's body shuddered and his mouth formed a perfect "oh" though he had no air to voice it, Jack chuckled softly.

"There's the plunder, mate," He whispered and leaned up to kiss James, managing somehow to continue muffling James's soft sounds of bliss as he started moving within him, each thrust dragging across the delightful point inside him. "How d' ye feel, Commodore, bein' boarded by a pirate?"

James couldn't answer as his hands fisted into Sparrow's vest and tunic, pulling at him unknowingly. James had no way of knowing if the fucking went on for minutes or for hours. He had become nothing more than raw desire, not remembering anything more than the pleasure that he experienced, not hoping for more than that which he was about to receive.

Without warning, Sparrow slammed into him harder than he had before, his rhythm halted--breathlessly--then he felt the other man's jelly spurt inside him. Unable to bear the tension any longer, James whipped his hand free and began to work his own meat. It didn't take more than a few seconds, especially when Jack's bowsprit, still buried deep inside him, brushed over his special place one last time. Fortunately, Jack had the presence of mind to cover James's mouth with his own and the near-howl of pleasure was swallowed by the pirate.

Despite the fact that it had happened three years before and that he had lain with Jack several more times in those intervening years, the memory made him ache for the sensation of Jack's tongue on his cock or his sword in James's sheath. He realized his rogering iron was half-hard and wondered if Agnes would accommodate him should he come to bed in this condition. The memory of Jack's lips against his, their bodies moving together made the idea of Agnes's affections almost repulsive to him. He decided against it.

A brief trip to the privy out back allowed him to regain control of his thoughts. Jack had been gone from his life for months. The last time he saw Jack, they were on a dock in Tortuga where James had tied his personal sloop. It was near midnight and Jack, unaccountably sober and serious, asked him if he would abandon his life in Port Royal and join Jack aboard the Pearl. James had refused.

"Whaddaya mean, 'no?' Jamie love, ye don't belong there. Ye belong with me, not behind walls and social niceties," Jack had cocked his head, stepped in closer and gave James the same look he'd given him when he wanted him to pursue the Pearl. "C'mon, Commodore. I'll let ye have yer way with me, aye?"

James smiled gently. "I've already had the pleasure, Jack. As tempting as it is--and it is most tempting--I must refuse. My career is my life, you know; I'm responsible for--."

"'Upholding the law, bringin' light t' the dark an' fresh air t' where the stink o' piracy lingers,' aye, heard it all before an' you know as well as I do that it's a bloody lie," Jack's eyes flashed fire.

"Jack."

"No!" Jack's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "There comes a time, James, when life asks a man t' make a choice. I thought ye cared fer me. Ye seem to when ye're sharin' me bunk an' ye've looked the other way a time or two when ye could have stretched me neck so ye mus' have some regard fer me. The question is: How much regard?"

"How much?" He couldn't keep the confusion from his voice. "What do you mean?"

Jack said nothing for several minutes, just stared at him. In the end, he dropped his gaze from James's and turned away. "Never knew ye t' be a coward, Commodore. I think 'tis time fer me t' find more profitable waters. Good-bye, James."

"Jack? What are you doing?" He stepped forward and grabbed for Jack's arm but he jerked away. "Jack, please, discuss this with me."

Jack shook his head and disappeared into the darkness. James took a few steps in Jack's direction but something told him that Jack was truly gone. Squinting against the night, James shivered as the wind picked up. There was no sound, as if Jack had disappeared off the face of the earth. It had taken all his fortitude to refrain from an emotional outburst. That was a year gone and three months before he met Agnes.

He still was not certain why he had been in such a hurry to court and marry Agnes when he met her. Perhaps it was the letter his father sent him asking him about rumors that he had heard from some navy contacts regarding his son's irregular disappearances. Possibly, it was the speculative gazes from his men. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with Jack's disappearance.

He was pacing the corridor, preparing to join Agnes in bed, when he heard a sound. He paused and glanced about for something he could use as a weapon. There was nothing available. He stepped into the doorway of the future nursery and thought he heard Agnes cross the floor in the master bedroom. She was still awake at this hour? He grew worried.

"Jamie," A voice from behind him said in the darkness.

He spun about to see a figure, slighter than himself, sway closer. He caught his breath and fought his urge to step forward and seize the pirate captain. "Jack?"

Jack grinned, the gold teeth glinting in the weak light. "'Tis me, love. An' how is the wedded life?"

James started to speak then closed his mouth, looking glum. Jack raised his eyebrows. "That bad, eh? Apologies, mate."

"What are you doing here?" James, finally, took a step forward as Jack did so they were within reach of each other. They did not touch, though. "I thought you were gone forever."

Jack chuckled. "'Fraid not, Commodore. Besides, where would you be without yer arch-nemesis, hmm?"

"Enjoying my newly-acquired rear admiralty," James sniffed. "And you failed to answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Comin' t' see you, love, t' make ye an offer," Jack paused and tilted his head to one side as he considered James.

"An offer?" James replied

"Aye," Sparrow affirmed, finally laying his hands upon the linen of James's shirt. Norrington let his eyes be drawn to the fingers, long, slender but ingrained with grime. Jack began to rub his hands across the surface and James found himself wondering, as usual, if Jack was more interested in the expensive material or the flesh below it. "How long have we been knowin' each other, Jamie?"

Though he could have told Jack to nearly the hour how long it had been, he didn't want to give Jack's ego that much swelling. Instead, he said, "Nearly three years. Why do you ask?"

"Because the time has come, Jamie-love, fer you t' finally surrender t' yer true nature an' join me fer good an' all on the Pearl, savvy?" Jack's belly pressing against his own made James consider notions that were best left unconsidered. "It's becomin' too dangerous fer me t' keep makin' these visits."

James finally allowed his hands to slide around Jack's waist, the solidity of the bone, muscle and sinew he touched convincing him that this was not a brandy-induced dream. He managed a half-smile. "But I thought you enjoyed the challenge. Where's your bravado, Captain? Your laughter in the face of death?"

"Still intact, love, but I been hearin' things. Things about a certain naval officer that don't set too well with me. There's a change in the winds comin' an' I'm afraid yer ship's about t' capsize, savvy?" Jack's hands rose to rest upon his shoulders, the fingers dancing lightly on his nape.

"I couldn't possibly do such a thing," James sighed. "To abandon my wife in such a fashion would be most dishonorable. I have a job to do, Jack, even if I do give you a certain amount of leeway. How can you ask such a thing of me?"

Jack sobered, his black eyes filling with a sweet earnestness that James could never have imagined before. "Because I love ye an' I believe that you love me. When ye love someone, ye tend t' grow concerned fer their well-bein'. Least, that's how it works with me."

It works the same with me, James yearned to reply but didn't have the courage. "There is still something to be said for remaining on the right side of the law. I do have to consider my family name's reputation, you know. Bringing such infamy on my parents and brothers would be an injustice."

"Tell ye what, love," Jack planted a slow, soft kiss on his lips then leaned back enough so he could gaze into James's eyes. "Let me be the villain o' the piece, savvy? 'Tis tragic fer a young bride t' lose her beloved husband t' the clutches of an evil pirate. That way, Jamie, ye ain't abandoning her--ye been kidnapped. Yer lovely lass will be taken care of that way, won't she?"

"How- How do you mean to do that?" James asked, closing the distance between himself and the pirate, yearning for another kiss.

Jack pulled a folded bit of paper out of his pocket and offered it to him. "This way, love."

James took the parchment from him and moved to a pool of moonlight at the end of the hallway. The piece was signed "Captain Jack Sparrow" but the handwriting looked nothing like Jack's ornate, careful script. Blotched, spidery and belligerent, in short, it looked like the scribbling of a madman. After a moment, he actually read the message.

For a moment, James stared at the words. If he allowed Jack to do this, there would be a price on his head so large that he would never be safe. He swallowed hard and turned shocked eyes on his lover. "I cannot allow you to do this! Jack, you realize--."

Jack grinned cannily. "I do, love, but it makes no never mind t' me. If ye come with me, spend the rest o' yer life at my side, I'll be a happy pirate. What say you, Jamie?"

"I-I don't know," James whispered. "I have a wife, Jack, and a child on the way. If I do this, I'll never see them again."

Jack nodded, his smile fading somewhat. "If ye don't, love, ye'll never see me again. I cannot continue t' risk yer life and well-bein' by takin' these liberties. If ye say no, the Pearl sails fer Africa then the Orient. We both know, love, that one o' these days, ye'll have t' make the decision again t' put me neck in the noose. It near t' killed ye last time, din't it?"

"You exaggerate," James muttered, turning away. "My purpose here is to uphold the law. I can hardly do that while sailing about the world aboard a pirate ship!"

"True enough, love," Jack answered. James felt the pirate slide his arms around his waist and rest his head against his back. "Then I guess this mus' be good-bye. I told Gibbs I'd be back 'fore dawn, with or without ye, love. T' tell the truth, though, I wanted it t' be with ye."

James started to speak, to tell Jack that his immediate departure would be for the best, when he felt Jack's hard hands slide under his shirt. The heat against his tender belly-flesh made him gasp. He grabbed for Jack's fingers but they were already busy unfastening his breeches.

"Please, Jack, not- Not here! My wife--Agnes is just in there!" James whispered harshly. "Jack, if you care at all,--."

"Yes, Jack, if you care at all for my husband, you will unhand him right now," James barely recognized the voice for the steel it contained but Jack's hands fell away immediately.

He whirled to see Agnes held a small pistol in hand. He had no way of knowing if it was loaded but he could see by the steadiness of her grip and the serenity of her expression that, if it was, Jack was likely dead as he stood with his back to her, his arms outstretched, a serendipitous smile gracing his lips. "Agnes, please, this isn't what--."

She snorted and James felt his jaw drop in amazement. "Oh, don't bother, James. It's exactly what I'm thinking. Despite appearances, I am not entirely naïve. I have heard the stories about sailors; pirates and navy men only differ by what side of the law they're on. And you, husband, have been walking a very thin line for a very long time. Turn around, Sparrow. Let me see what my husband finds so irresistible."

Jack did as ordered and James saw Agnes's face grow thoughtful and, perhaps, a bit lustful. "Milady Norrington. Captain Jack Sparrow at yer service, darlin'."

A bitter smile twisted Agnes's lips. "Somehow, Captain, I rather doubt that. So what are we to do? If I were the vindictive sort, I'd shoot you here and now. What do you think?"

"Agnes, please," James began but she glared at him.

"That's enough from you, husband," She returned her attention to Jack. "You need to answer my question, Captain. Should I shoot you?"

James could hear the smile in Jack's voice. "Depends upon yer goal, really. If ye jus' want t' see me dead an' James in despair, then by all means. But if ye want real vengeance 'pon James, ye need t' make him give up the one thing he values most--more 'n you, me an' the Dauntless put together."

"And what would that be?" She asked, the gun still trained on Jack though she had lowered it to a more comfortable position. "His position? His wealth? His good family name?"

"Close," Jack answered. "His respectability. The whelp's too bound up in bein' on the right side of the law, bein' respectable and proper. Make 'im go with me, darlin', t' become a proper pirate and scallywag. The house, the wealth, an' his social standin' will all be yours, savvy?"

She smiled grimly. "You must have a low opinion of me, Captain, if you think that such things are all that I want. Suppose I would tell you that I love him? I want to spend the rest of my life with James and the things you mentioned matter not to me? What would you say then?"

Jack cast a glance over his shoulder at James, who saw his face had grown serious. He answered Agnes while still looking at him. "I'd say, love, that I'd best be on my way. I jus' want him t' be happy in the end."

When he looked back at her, Agnes drew a breath then moved the hammer forward so that the pistol was made safe. She finally looked at her husband. "Go gather your things, James. Obviously this man knows you far better than I ever will, not to mention the fact that he loves you more. I ask for only two things."

"And those are?" James felt his heart begin to race.

"One," She answered, holding up a finger. "James Lawrence Norrington dies tonight. I don't care what alias you use but you must never use that name again. In that way, I become a respectable young widow rather than the poor, unfortunate Mrs. Norrington."

"An' the other, love?" Jack asked, stepping closer to Agnes in a way that told James he was rather impressed by her.

"I want that note," She drew herself up so that she nearly looked Jack directly in the eye. "It will insure that neither of you ever return to Jamaica or Port Royal again. You, Captain, because the price on your head will be so large that your own men will turn you in for the bounty, and you, James, because you will want to see nothing happen to your . . . is it proper to call him your lover?"

He saw Jack pull the note out of his sleeve and shook his head slightly. He would really have to ask Jack to teach him to pick pockets. His skill was most amazing. Jack began to hand the note to her but snatched it back out of her reach briefly.

"Call him me first-mate, milady. Do I have yer word that we have until well after dawn 'fore ye inform the authorities?" He held the slip of paper between the first two fingers of his right hand, just a hair shy of her fingertips.

Agnes nodded her head graciously. "Of course, Captain. I'll not have either of your deaths on my head. James is too fine a man for that, his predilections notwithstanding, and you--well, let's just say 'waste not.'"

"We have an accord," Jack lowered the paper into her range but when she took it, he grabbed her about the waist and kissed her. For a moment, James envied her, then realized how ridiculous he was being. He was about to have Jack forever; what did he care if his wife came to understand for one brief moment why he would leave her for Sparrow? When the kiss ended, Agnes looked a little dazed. "Wasn't here fer the ceremony so I didn't get t' kiss the bride, ye know."

"James," Agnes managed to say after a beat or two. "If you don't gather your things and leave with the Captain, I shall, 'savvy?'"

James did his best to hide the surprised smile and hurried off to his room. The few things he took, his pistols, the sword he received at his promotion, and two or three shirts as well as a spare pair of trousers, were likely not going to be recognized as belonging specifically to Commodore Norrington. The bundle of items he carried when he returned to Jack and Agnes seemed unnecessarily small.

Jack moved to the head of the stairs and, after giving Agnes a fleeting but sincere salute then winking at James, he descended. At that moment, James looked at his wife. She was staring at him calmly.

"Will you tell me when-when our child is born?" He asked, longing to embrace her but fearing it. "I mean, send word somehow? There's a tavern in Tortuga called the Faithful Bride. Ja- It caters to pirates and the like."

Agnes sighed. "Not that you deserve it, but I suppose I will. I don't know that you'll ever be able to see him--"

"Or her," James interjected. "We might have a daughter. I would like that, you know. We could name her Anna, after your mother."

"Or Elizabeth, after yours," Agnes shook her head. "If it's a son, I suppose we should call him James."

"I leave the choice to you, my d- Agnes. Are you truly certain about this? It feels so wrong--."

She interrupted him. "Don't say that. Do not lie to me. At least give me that much respect. Do you understand that I've not been happy in this marriage? I've hated this life with you because I knew that there was someone else. I knew I could never mean more to you than her--or should I say 'him.' I thought it was Elizabeth Turner. Maybe I could have learned to live with it had it been her. But this, James, this--."

As he looked into her blue eyes, he saw what this was costing her. He tried to draw her into an embrace but she stiffened away. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but the words failed him. At length, she turned from him and went to the doorway to their bedroom. As she opened the door, she glanced back at him to give him the same salute Jack had given her but without the wink. Then she was closing the door behind her.

Less than a half hour later, he and Jack were in a jolly boat rowing toward the point of land the Pearl would round to pick them up. As he rowed, Jack was maintaining a serious demeanor in light of the situation. James found he was glad Jack was turned away as he seemed incapable of stemming the tears that dripped from his eyes. When they finally reached the rendezvous, Jack turned to face him.

"What's this, Jamie? Aren't ye glad t' be leavin' with me?" He asked as he caught one of James's tears on his knuckles.

"Yes, Jack, of course I am. I- It's just that I'll never know my own child. We can't come back, you know," James drew a shaky breath and used his sleeve to dry his face.

"Well now, Jamie," Jack grinned. He held up a slip of paper between his thumb and forefinger for Norrington to see that it was the note he supposedly gave to Agnes. "I wouldn't exactly say that. It just might be a bit uncomfortable."

"But she'll notice the note's gone!" James gasped. "Jack, this--."

Jack waved a hand to silence his protest. "Jamie-love, give a pirate a bit o' credit. Yer lovely missus has a note near identical t' this one. 'Cept it's signed by one Bloody Jack Henry, savvy?"

James couldn't suppress the smile though he shook his head. "She will kill you, Jack, you know that."

Jack held up the small, silver-plated pistol that Agnes had been holding on him. "An' just how will she do that, love?"

~End~