AN: I introduce my very first POTC fic, starring that most misunderstood and maligned character, the esteemed Commodore J. Norrington. Yes, I know this will become AU the moment DMC is released, but I revel in romantic, fluffy fics. And I'm a sucker for a wig. So without any further ado… enjoy, drop me a line if you did, and come back soon for more! Lots of love, Dorian Dark xxx

Disclaimer: I own only my OCs. Disney and people own the rest.

1

The Commodore held his head high as he walked through the archway, aware of the eyes of his men boring into his back. Gillette's politely baffled face, the Governor's steadfast glare, and…Elizabeth. Walking through the now-deserted courtyard, past the ruined gallows, he could almost see her on that parapet, her hair softened and illuminated by the brilliant Caribbean sun. He decided not to think of Will Turner's smile as he leaned in to kiss his fiancée.

He relished the dark cool of his small office, the comforting reality of his maps and charts. Removing his cumbersome dress coat, he began to prepare a report on the loss of the Interceptor. It was so much easier to immerse himself in cannon-balls, in splintered masts and dastardly pirates, in latitudes and longitudes, than to remember Elizabeth's voice… 'For me, Commodore…as a wedding gift.'

Dusk was falling on Port Royal, and Norrington's hand was beginning to ache when a tentative knock interrupted his silence.

'Yes?'

'It's Lt. Groves, sir. May I come in?'

'Yes, yes of course.'

The anxious young Lt. sidled into the room, still attired in his perfect uniform. He looked mildly surprised to see his superior sitting calmly at his desk, hard at work.

'I…er…I wanted to ensure that you were…that is, some of the men…'

'Are you quite all right, Lt.?'

'Yes, quite, sir.'

Groves stood there somewhat uncomfortably for several seconds, gripping the rim of his hat tightly.

'Sir?'

'Yes?' Norrington answered slightly impatiently.

'Are you all right, sir, if I might be so bold as to enquire?'

'I assure you, Lt. Groves, I have never been in better health.'

'Um…good. That's good, sir. I…by which I mean we…were concerned…considering the events of the day…'

'Were you now?' A note of steel had entered the Commodore's steady voice.

'I...'

'Let me tell you, Lt., that it is of no consequence whether we apprehend Captain Sparrow today, tomorrow, or next year…after the loss of the Interceptor, my reputation can hardly be tarnished further by the escape of a petty criminal.'

'Oh. I…Commodore…I rather meant the treachery of Miss Swann.'

Norrington's eyes narrowed, and he sat up very straight in his chair, looking shrewdly at the young officer.

'Groves, might I remind you that Miss Swann is a lady, and thus to accuse her so wildly is disrespectful in the extreme. She has done nothing wrong. We shall consider the matter closed.' And with that, he turned once more to his work and dipped his quill into the inkpot industriously.

After several moments, he became aware that Groves was still in the room.

'Groves…there can surely be no more to say on the matter?'

'But sir, she has done wrong. She went back on her word…surely that is inexcusable? And - ' he continued hastily as the Commodore raised his hand to interject, '- she has hurt the pride and soul of a most respected and admired companion.'

Norrington sat in contemplative silence for several moments, then turned abruptly to a small cabinet by his desk and pulled out a crystal decanter.

'Care for a brandy, Groves?'

'Um…'

'Ah, don't worry, boy…I haven't turned to the evils of excessive drink quite yet. Now sit down and let us talk…man to man, as it were.'

Looking slightly apprehensive, Groves obliged, sinking slowly into a carved armchair, and accepting a glass of the amber liquid.

'Now then, Groves…a bit presumptuous, would you not say, to make assumptions about the state of my…ahem…pride and soul?'

'But sir…the men and I were rather of the opinion that you….had formed a deep attachment with Miss Swann.'

'Now, you listen to me very carefully, Lt. Groves…it is true that I care very much indeed for the lady in question. However, that affection allows me to release her from our engagement with a happy heart, for I am now assured that she will know every possible joy in her married life. For all my arrogance, I do not pretend that it would have been so had she been wedded to a dour statesman such as myself.'

'Oh, sir, we none of us would call you arrogant.'

'Maybe not - ' Norrington allowed himself a wry grin, '- but to a carefree, wilful young woman several years my junior, I must seem…a man of moderate emotion, compared to Mr. Turner. No, I do not begrudge them their contentment. I wish them every happiness in their life together.'

'But, Commodore Norrington…what about you?'

'What about me?'

'I thought…won't you be terribly lonely?'

'Groves…solitude has ever been a great friend of mine. I would hate to lose its companionship now. No…I confess that although I had…ah…entertained thoughts of a blissful married life…in reality Miss Swann could never have adapted herself to dull domesticity. So…I do believe I shall have to accustom myself once more to the concept of bachelorship for the foreseeable future. It is not such a dreadful state of affairs, after all.'

Groves stared at his superior in disbelief, searching for an appropriate response. When none came, the Commodore continued.

'Really, Groves...I do appreciate your concern for me…but I must remind you that I have been an officer in the Royal Navy for over a decade, and am therefore accustomed to hardship and loss. I…I confess I love Elizabeth very dearly…ah…I am afraid that is all there is to be said on the matter.'

'Yes. I apologise for my lack of propriety, sir.'

'Not at all…in fact Groves, I am truly touched by this visit. Nevertheless, I assure you I will always be the man you have known these five years. I will not allow a woman to alter my sense of duty.'

With that, he turned back to his writing desk, and began to work once more. Groves twirled his glass in his fingers idly, before rising and exiting quickly, unable to express his anxiety.

Commodore Norrington listened to him pause outside the door and trudge away. A good man, Groves. And, if he looked deep within himself, the Commodore knew his hesitant questioning was the result of shrewd observation. He had struck painfully close to the mark.

Norrington finished the report in due time, albeit with diminished relish, for his mind was tortured once more by the thought of Elizabeth, the concerned frowns of his men, the shame of having lost her to a blacksmith. He was too tired even to chasten his own snobbery. He signed his name with a tired air of finality, and slumped back in his chair, watching the glow of the lamp flicker unsteadily over the maps on the wall and the spines of his admirable collection of books.

So constant, he thought…he would never face betrayal, embarrassment from these stolid tomes. He knew them intimately, like a lover, and the scan of his eyes down their beloved pages was a tender caress. But at that moment, drowning in his own misery and solitude, he could not face them, his oldest friends.

He forsook the dusty words of his Bible, the mocking passion of Shakespeare, and returned to his house some four miles away, whereupon he retired glumly to bed, the blue shadows chasing across his face as he struggled into an uneasy sleep.

AN: so…? Please be assured this is simply setting the tone, the next few chapters establish the tension between Norrington ('Norrie' to my dear sisters, who promise to feed me chocolate if I write more of this) and Elizabeth, and introduce a potential candidate for his affections. Come back soon, DD xx