Pirates of the Caribbean – yes, this means Norrington too – does not belong to me. The latter suggestion saddens my heart, but, hey, I'm a rabid fangirl.
A/N: OKAY, so I probably had the most fun with this challenge than any other fic of mine (apart from Kraken'd). And, by gum, I hope it's funny. I'm not the best for humor – more inside jokes than anything, but I think I've done pretty darn well. All serious at first and suddenly it's all... not serious. Like Jack Davenport in the COTBP commentary. (Figures.)
Please tell me what you thought of this. And I hope this lives up to your expectations, Flightstorm.
Enjoy. And one last thing – the events in this fic are not to be taken seriously, AT ALL. Hah.
Elizabeth smiled the smile that only ever came upon her face at the sense of Will.
For, on the horizon, was a large ship. A ship that, indeed, only brought Will himself. William Turner, bandana and all, arrived gallantly on the shore, his face plastered with a smile that only came when he sighted Elizabeth.
The child, almost a young version of William II, stood holding his mother's hand, a smile upon his face that, had it been sighted before, came when he looked upon his father.
The Turners' smile was, by far, the most happiness any of them had felt in a decade.
Of course, such excess happiness can only be reprimanded – if not stopped – by, say, a kiss. This was what Will and Elizabeth did, on his arrival upon the beach. It was not a long one, on the whole, but it made up for any missed moments when they had really needed it.
But not for long did they have the opportunity to reconnect, as such. No, for awaiting the arrival – rather, half-dreading with impatience – was Captain Jack Sparrow and newly betrothed, Anamaria. Visiting the Turner child, and mother of course; they happened to arrive the night before Will was due back, and shared the comforting thought of "the whelp's return". Though of course, Elizabeth had re-worded it. Will himself, the night before, had been overly – shall we say – desperate. The thought of his wife being so close, what with suspense and such, made for a restless night. Like a child waiting Christmas day, Will had dreamt of the next morning, the greeting of a gift only one in the world could give him just waiting over the hours.
Indeed, the child had, too, spent a night of wondering. It was not as excitable as one would think, although, he did dream of a ragged-clad man in an odd overcoat, or possibly a hat.
Whoever the dreamer, there stood Will and Elizabeth, a son watching the embrace, and close friends grinning upon, and one lonely soul. For standing beside Bootstrap Bill, was ex-Admiral James Norrington. A decade ago deceased, long forgotten by the world. But let us marvel in the extensive happiness of the Turners four, and not the meager happiness of one – shall we say – emo "spirit".
It was a quarter hour later that, after a kiss, a joyous introduction and a back-thumping reunion, the four Turners, the Sparrow couple and the paltry-hearted James lounged in the Turner household kitchen. A quaint little room consisting of a mere stove and table and chairs, it was almost cozy, if one had lit the stove. If one were to light the stove, however, Bill would have had a – shall we say – pain in the butt. For he sat upon the stove; the Jack and Ana sitting on wooden and woven chairs respectively. Will and Elizabeth sat across them, young William – shall we call him Liam? – nestled betwixt them. Norrington, straight as ever, avoided many eyes and stood against the wall.
"So Jack," Will grinned. "What brings you to our abode?"
Jack, feigning arrogance, waved his hand about carelessly. "Nuthin', really. A stopover? A free meal maybe? One that ain't a bunch of hard tack and plain water? One that actually filled me stomach, one that could, ah, take me out of the belly of the beast, that is, hunger." He was, of course, smirking.
And James was, of course, rolling his eyes. And nobody noticed.
"Before we get too merry," Will began, "we have a serious side to this situation."
"Situation? I wasn't aware of said situation. Is there something bad about this situation?"
"Sparrow," James interrupted sharply, surprising the occupants as he did, "must you intercept everything? For every day I wake up and thank God I'm not you."
Jack just held his smirk. "Me too."
"A serious side," Will repeated, ignoring the outburst. James exhaled, eyes rolling as he slumped against the wall, listening irritably. He was only indoors at Will's request, though he wasn't quite sure why. The man was his romantic rival, after all.
"We need a new Captain for the Dutchman." Will said clearly. "By tomorrow's sundown."
"And if we don't have one?" Ana inquired.
Will just gave her a hard look, one that mixed sadness with determination, the one that makes all fangirls squeal. "We need a new Captain, and that's the problem," Will went on. "My father is soon to retire and won't last under weary bones, and not one man in my crew has a living partner. We must find a new captain, and soon."
"And how do we do that?"
Elizabeth frowned. "We don't know."
"Only man in 'ere that could possibly do such a thing is..." Jack shifted in his seat, "ol' Norrie here."
James raised a brow, but did not say anything.
"He's one of my crew," Will answered the 'question', "he has no woman."
"We could scoop 'un from the whorehouse in town," Jack shrugged, "would tha' work?"
"No. They have to be in love. She has to love him, and he has to love her, truly. It's a matter of sincere love, a first and only love, maybe."
James pointedly avoided Elizabeth's gaze.
"So Norrie," Jack said musingly, "have you a girl to love you?"
Norrington glared at Jack, who had a smug look on his face. "I do not wish to communicate with you, Sparrow, let alone answer your insufferable question."
"But I win - you're talking to me, eh?"
James didn't answer.
"So who're we to get, then, if Mister Admiral here can't get any?"
"Sparrow, will you just shut it," James cursed.
Before James could lunge at Jack, Ana interrupted. "Rephrasing what Jack said, what're we to do about this situation?"
Everyone was at a loss for words until -
"Hey!?" Bootstrap exclaimed, as a beautiful woman appeared at the end of the table.
The lady batted her eyelashes at James, who frowned.
"Who are you?" Liam squeaked, shaken by the sudden arrival.
"My name is Carmen Violet Rosemary Michelle Apple Misty Diamond Winona Mariette Aria Greenleaf..." she smiled flirtatiously at James, "...to-be Norrington."
James swore under his breath.
Jack couldn't suppress a grin. "Problem solved, eh mate?"
The four Turners went almost mad; Elizabeth giggling, Will biting his lip to stop himself from doing as his wife was, Bootstrap confused, and Liam – well, he was confuzzled.
"I like pie." Carmen – or we shall call her Miss Greenleaf – said suddenly, blinking her long eyelashes at James, her lilac eyes glinting.
"You – what?" James said incredulously. A madwoman was in love with him, was he really that low?
Miss Greenleaf began to walk across the room toward James, passing a grinning Jack and Ana. "I looooooooove you, James Norrington," she purred.
James looked petrified.
"I have our rings here," she waggled her ring-clad fingers in his face. "We must wear them to be in eternal happiness, and you can sail the seas, and we can both have that sad longing feeling of love, to eternity, and we can love across the sea, and you can love me as I love you, Jamessss."
Jack was in a fit. "Well mate! Problem solved, ready to go? Break out the rum, eh?"
"Sparrow –" James was too slow to retort as Miss Greenleaf moved in for a kiss. He ducked under her and teetered halfway across the wall.
"I need someone I can love," James said impatiently, as the oblivious Miss Greenleaf hit the wall instead of his lips repeatedly. "Not a – a –"
"Wench," Bootstrap supplied unhelpfully.
"Well, Mr. Norrington," Will said dutifully, "do you have a love in this world?"
"Only two," James said in a mangled whisper before wrestling off an over-indulged Miss Greenleaf. "And she is not one of them."
"Two?" Jack grunted, casting a glance Norriewards. "And they'd be?"
James, to their surprise, turned a deep shade of red – not anger, but embarrassment, the poor dear.
"You – know the first one -" he said, fending off Miss Greenleaf. "I need not name her."
"And the second?"
Miss Greenleaf stopped and howled. "No, no! We are to take these rings, you must sail for five years to Isengard and return and we were to live in marital bliss!"
Norrington was too deep a shade of scarlet to reply. Miss Greenleaf, with another LE POOF, disappeared.
It was an odd feeling, to have no heart. James scratched his chin, watching on the crew scurry about on deck. At least he had it safe and beating somewhere, his beloved with it. He had solemnly and, almost heartbreakingly, left his darling on the shore, his heart really in it, per se.
It was a sad occasion for him, but he loved the sea, almost a third love of his. He would love this one and happily return to his other in ten years' time. There was no worry of his adored being taken by another - no worry that he knew of anyway, as "they" were all pirates nowadays. They had been together for a long time, he knew. He would not easily give up, and nor would his spouse. It was to be a joint bond, a mutual respect, one that was almost impossible now to break. Already he longed for the day that they would reunite, longing the hour in which he would set eyes upon his lovingly favored...
Yes, he and his wig would, one day, be together again.