Ex-Commodore Grumpyface

Disclaimer: I do not own The Pirates of the Caribbean nor do I own Doctor Who.

Author's Note: Those of you who read my Labyrinth fanfic may be a little upset to find that I've posted this but haven't updated Down Once More. Currently I am doing some major revisions to that story (I was not a fan of the way it was going). I'm almost done with the editing (if one can ever be done with editing :P ) and will post it all up soon with a BRAND NEW chapter. I haven't given up on it, I just had the plot bunnehs for this one shot nibbling away at my brain for a while, and decided it might be a fun little break from the Sarah/Jareth angst. Love to you all who have waited patiently for an update! I hope you enjoy this, even if you don't enjoy PotC or DW.

This takes place somewhere in the beginning of series 5 for Doctor Who and a bit before Dead Man's Chest for The Pirates of the Caribbean.

PLEASE REVIEW!

"Oy!" The young redheaded woman shouted as a man fell upon her. He looked up at her with a lazy grin. The overpowering stench of rum on his breath made her stomach roll over in disgust. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him over to an excessively made up woman.

"I think she's more your type." Straightening out her clothing she muttered, "Doctor, I am going to strangle you with your bow tie."

The tavern was fairly large but had so many people stuffed into it that one could hardly get a few inches of space to themselves. The air smelled of strong alcohol, putrid body odor, and salt from the sea. Amy squeezed between singing groups of drunken men, prostitutes whose breasts threatened to fall out of their dresses, and tables covered in spilled liquor. She spotted a vacant stool by the bar in the back of the tavern and headed toward it. There was a man in a dirty blue coat sitting on the stool beside it. Amy got closer to him and tapped his shoulder. "This seat taken, Mate?"

"No," he replied gruffly, pulling his shoulder away from her as if she had some sort of contagious disease.

"Friendly, aren't ya?" She muttered as she settled herself upon the stool. She sat up as straight as she could, trying to see over the mass of people. Her eyes scanned each person carefully, looking for a specific man in a tweed jacket. When her search turned up no such man, she let out a frustrated sigh and allowed her back to fall hard against the counter behind her. She crossed her arms and legs and began to jiggle her foot impatiently. Where the hell are you, Doctor?

Pirates he'd promised her; swash-buckling, sword-wielding, drink-up-me-hearties-yo-ho pirates. But when they'd stepped out of the TARDIS it was not a pirate ship she found outside the blue doors, but this rotten port. He'd pulled out an alien gizmo that began flashing colored lights and making all sorts of noise.

"Aha! I knew you'd be here!" The Doctor cried excitedly.

Amy furrowed her brow. "What are you on about?"

"There's this thing. It's a purple thing with lots of stuff. I have to go find it before..." He looked around. "Stay here, Amy. I just have to go get this thing and then we'll be on our way."

"Why can't I go?" She crossed her arms.

"Because I said so." He pointed a finger at her. "Stay, Pond." And then he ran off into the night like some sort of bookish superhero. Amy moved to follow him but he'd already vanished from her sight.

"'Because I said so,'" she repeated, mimicking the Doctor's voice. "I'm twenty-one, not twelve." As if to prove her point, she spun around on the stool and waved over one of the barmaids. "I'll have what he's having." She pointed to the man beside her and then frowned. "What are you having?"

"Nothing strong enough," he grumbled, taking a drink from the tin cup in front of him.

A similar dirty tin cup was placed in front of Amy. "Well...cheers!" She held up the cup toward the man before taking a big gulp of the dark liquid. Amy swallowed it with great effort; it burned all the way down to her stomach. She set the cup down and began having a coughing fit. When it ended she noticed the man watching her, appearing to be amused at the display. Amy cleared her throat and placed a neutral expression on her face. "It went down the wrong way. That's all."

The man's shoulders began to shake with laughter. Amy struggled to keep her indifferent expression; a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She reached out and playfully hit his arm. "Oh, shut up! It's your fault for choosing a-"

"And wot do ya think you're doin'?" A blonde woman stepped up behind the man, glaring at Amy. Her dark red dress hid very little of her chest and her face was painted in such a way that reminded Amy of the circus. The man stopped laughing and groaned, dropping his head down onto the counter.

"Well, I was talking to this lump." Amy gestured to the man. "But since you showed up, it doesn't seem like he's up for any more conversation."

The blonde rested her arm against the man's back, and played with the bit of brown hair that peeked out from under his slightly tangled wig. "I 'aven't seen ya 'round 'ere before," she said with a condescending smile, "so ya must be new. I'll letcha off with a warnin' then. This one's mine. If I catch ya carryin' on with 'im again, I'll toss ya out o' this place by your pretty red hair. D'ya understand? Go try yourself on some of 'em over there." She pointed to a table nearby, surrounded by dirty men warbling out drunken sea chanties.

"Hold on a bit. Are you calling me a prostitute?"

"What other sort o' lady would be wearin' that?" She sneered at Amy's clothing.

Amy tugged at the bottom of her skirt seeming to believe that it would magically gain length if she pulled hard enough. "A fashionable one." She looked over at the man. "Is that what you thought? Thought I was comin' onto you, yeah?"

The man suddenly became very interested in his drink.

Amy crossed her arms. "Well I'm not a prostitute. I'm a kissogram. There's a big difference."

The blonde placed her hands on her hips. "And wot's a kissogram?"

"I get...hired to go to parties and kiss people." She picked up her drink and swirled it around. "It's a laugh."

The woman placed her hands on her hips. "Sounds like ya do only half o' what I do. All ya do is tease. At least I give my customers real pleasure."

"Yeah, well, I'd say my job's a lot more respectable."

"A truly respectable lady would not subject herself to either profession," the man spoke up.

"Shut it!" The women said in unison. The man turned back to his drink with the appearance of a scolded puppy.

Amy punched his arm with half-force. "You're one to judge—you're her customer."

He sighed and turned his head to face Amy. "I am not her customer. I am forced to remind her of this every night,for she returns every night to pester me with unsuccessful seductions, and the repeated promise that if I 'pay the right price' I shall be favored with a 'look at what's under her skirts.' She is, in fact, the worst doxie I have ever encountered."

Said doxie did not seem the slightest bit insulted by this remark and instead began to trace patterns on the man's back.

The redhead looked over at the blonde in aggravated confusion. "If he's not your customer, then what're you going on about?"

"'e's not mine yet. But I've seen that look in 'is eyes, all full o' want, watchin' me across the room." She stroked the side of the man's face. "When 'e decides to give in, I'll be the one to please 'im." She glared at Amy. "So best keep your lips away or I'll black and blue that pretty little face o' yours." With that final warning-and a long, dramatic parting kiss on the man's cheek—the blonde spun around on her heel and walked away.

After a pause, Amy snorted, "She makes you sound like the male love interest from a trashy romance novel. 'And the heat from his passionate eyes was so intense that she nearly came undone on the spot.'" She tossed her hair and pretended to appear faint. When that display failed to evoke even a smirk from the man, she dropped it. Propping her elbow up on the bar to hold her head up with one hand, she leaned closer to the man and asked, "So what's your story, Lusty Eyes?"

"You don't even know my name and yet you are asking for me to divulge the details of my descent from a respectable Commodore in the Queen's royal navy, to a pathetic drunkard in a pirate port." He tossed back the last of his drink and slammed the cup down on the bar. "I don't wish to speak about it."

Amy stared at him with wide eyes. "Alright, then. Let's start with an easy question: What's your name?"

"Norrington. James Norrington."

"Good, good. Long as it's not 'Bond.'" She gave a laugh that quickly died upon seeing his expression. "Bad joke. Hewon'tbecomingalongforawhile, so..." she drew out the word, "I'm, um, I'm Amy." She held out her hand. The man tentatively took it in his own, but before he could do anything more, Amy tightened her grip and shook.

"It's a pleasure, Miss...do you have a family name?"

"Pft. Not one that you need to use." The last thing I need is another person calling me 'Pond,' she added to herself. "Call me Amy. We just shared a drink and I was threatened by your mistress. If that doesn't put us on a first name basis, I don't know what will."

James scowled. "She's not my-"

"I know. Take a joke, will you?" Amy pushed her tin cup around a bit, thinking. "So, you used to be a Commodore, yeah? What was it like? I bet you had the ladies swooning all over you." When you took a bath and didn't look like you'd been mugged by tiny monkeys with muddy paws. Amy took note of the dolefulness in James' eyes.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring you back to a painful spot." She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "If you don't want to-"

"It was glorious in the beginning." A faint smile appeared on his lips. He stared down at Amy's hand. "Becoming Commodore at such a young age...it was one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. I thought for sure that she would...but I suppose I didn't quite know Elizabeth as well as I believed I did. Not well enough to know that she'd fall in love with a bloody blacksmith-turned-pirate." He looked up at Amy. "Please pardon my language."

Amy dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "What was Elizabeth to you? Neighbor? Mate? Girlfriend? Wife?"

"Wife?" James laughed, a hollow sound. "If only." He sighed, "She is the only woman I have ever loved. I have a feeling that she will always be the only one for the rest of my pathetic life."

Amy squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I think you need another drink."

James nodded heavily and almost tumbled off his stool.

"Or maybe some fresh sea air. Let's take a walk." Amy helped James to his feet. She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled one of his arms around her shoulders. They squeezed their way between the groups of sweaty, drunken bodies.

A pair of hands shot out and wound themselves in Amy's sweater. With a rough tug, Amy was pulled away from James and onto the lap of an older man with an eyepatch. "Kissy, kissy, li'l missy." He puckered his lips and made his idea of kissing noises. Amy wrinkled her nose and pushed his face away.

"Gah! Find a breath mint, Mate, then we'll talk." She held out her hands to James but as he was helping her up, Eyepatch Man wrapped his arms around Amy's torso and brought her back down again. "Let go of me!" Amy growled and struggled in the man's hold.

"Gimme a kiss an' I'll think abou' it." He grinned, revealing a sparse collection of yellowed teeth.

"Unhand the lady at once!" James ordered, now pointing a gun at the man's head.

"Git yer own." He stuck out his tongue and licked Amy's cheek.

"Eurgh! What the hell did you do that for?" Amy grabbed a mostly empty bottle off a nearby table and tried to hit the man on the head with it. The man wrestled it out of her hand and gave a victorious laugh when he successfully pulled it out of her grip. He tossed it over his shoulder, only to have it strike his neighbor in the side of the head.

"Ow! I'll teach ye ta throw a bottle at me, ye sunovabitch!" The wounded man smacked Eyepatch Man in the back of the head. Eyepatch Man released his hold on Amy to grab his head. The redhead quickly jumped up and stood beside James to watch the fight play out.

"I'll getcha fer that!" Eyepatch Man stood up and swung a fist at the other man's jaw. The other man dodged the blow and dealt his own to Eyepatch Man's stomach. Eyepatch Man tumbled backward into a table, knocking it over. All hell broke loose following this event. Glass bottles and tin cups flew threw the air, swords were raised high, people were thrown into walls and other people—Amy loved every second of it.

"Ah, yes! A proper pirate pub fight!" She picked a fallen sword up off the floor as well as a floppy black hat. "Come on, let's go in!" She tugged on James' arm but he remained stationary. She glared at him in annoyance.

"I will not be responsible for sending an innocent into a fight with pirates. We are going to take that walk." He took her hand.

"Innocent?" Amy lifted her sword and took a swipe at some poor man's pants. They dropped to the floor and before he could do anything more than look down, Amy hit him over the head with the handle of her sword. "How's that for 'innocent'? Just because I am a woman-"

"This has nothing to do with your sex." He stumbled closer to her. "I believe that no person should associate themselves with pirates in any way, unless it is to send them to the gallows." There was a hint of frustration and sorrow behind his words.

"Then what the hell are you doing in a pirate pub?" Amy cried, still annoyed that he was refusing to allow her to fight. James seemed dumbstruck at this question. Struggling to find an answer, he dropped Amy's hand and began to stumble his way toward the door. He got about two feet away from her before tripping and falling to the floor. With a groan, Amy let her sword go and threw her hat into the crowd, then ran to his side. She resumed the position they had been walking in before (an arm around his waist while one of his rested upon her shoulders) and guided him out the door.

The cool night air greeted their grateful, overheated skin. Amy breathed in deeply, her nose reveling in the scent of salt in the air as compared to the body odor stench of the tavern. She looked over at James who was still gripping her shoulder.

"You alright?" She asked, wrapping her arm a little tighter around him.

He chuckled. "I'm as well as one can be, drunk in a pirate port."

"Well you're not entirely blootered. You just need a little help with walking."

He turned his head toward her and raised an eyebrow. "'Blootered?'"

"Yeah, I'm Scottish. You got a problem with that?" She narrowed her eyes.

James shook his head and chuckled again. "Well, I've revealed a great deal of my own, erm, story, now tell me yours, Amy."

"No, you don't want to hear about-"

"I do indeed want to hear about you." He nodded his head emphatically. "Scotland. I've been to the Highlands once or twice myself. Absolutely beautiful."

"Most of my story happens in England, actually." She shifted his weight on her slightly. "Could we go sit down somewhere? You're not exactly made of feathers here."

James immediately withdrew his arm and looked as if he'd stabbed Amy. "I apologize, Amy. I-"

"Just shut up, put your arm back around my shoulders, and find a place for us to sit." She smirked. James gave a small smile in return and obeyed.

…

Laughter mingled with the sound of waves lapping the shore and faint music in the air. James was sitting with his back against a low stone wall while Amy sat atop the wall, her legs stretched out before her.

"He strokes the ship, too," she said. "Calls it 'Sexy Thing.' He's in love with it, I'm sure. It's no wonder he brought me on board; he needs a bit more human contact." She got a wicked glint in her eye as the word 'contact' left her mouth. James gave a nervous laugh and did not look at Amy. She turned her attention back to the former Commodore. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, tilting his head up to give her a smile. "But is it so strange that he would be so...attached to his ship? If he's been alone for so long and lost so much, does it not make sense that he would turn to the only constant thing in his life?"

Amy fell silent and stared at James. His sea green eyes met her warm brown orbs, waiting patiently for her to do something. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "You get off on ships, too, yeah?" She let out a delighted giggle and swung her legs around so they rested next to James. He turned his face away, the red of humiliation spreading across his face. "And he's embarrassed about it! The Doctor has absolutely no shame about it; he just coos and pets it like its normal."

James gave a low growl and moved to stand. Amy laid one of her legs across his chest, pushing him back down. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To a place where my faults won't be subjected to judgement and cruel laughter. Now, if you'd be so kind as to remove your leg..."

"I don't think I will." She grinned. He glowered. She reached down and grabbed his chin, lifting his head up so he would look at her. "You know, most men would be pleased to have my legs wrapped around them." He swallowed hard but kept scowling.

"Oh, come off it, Ex-Commodore GrumpyFace." Amy slid off the wall and sat beside him. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you are."

Without warning Amy rolled into James' lap. Grabbing either side of his face, she pulled his lips onto hers. James did not respond at first (he was too startled to do anything) but soon closed his eyes and placed one hand on Amy's waist, the other on her back. The kiss was passionate and rough in the beginning, Amy pressing herself firmly against James and teasing his lower lip with her teeth. It eventually slowed, becoming soft and gentle as James took the lead.

Amy had to admit, the man did not taste of sunshine and peaches—did they even have toothbrushes back then?-but the way he kissed her kept her lips moving with his. It was so sweet the way he held her comfortably in his arms, putting only a light pressure on her lips with his but tugging on them playfully. When he pulled away, Amy almost cried out in frustration.

"Did you ever kiss Elizabeth like that?" She blurted. James frowned and unwrapped his arms from around Amy. She quickly added, "'Cos if you did and she still ran away...well, there's obviously something very wrong with her. Wow."

James chuckled and pulled Amy against his chest, stroking her hair and humming happily. Amy's eyes widened and she turned them upward, only to see the underside of James' chin. She wanted to crawl out of his lap—kissing was one thing, cuddling was another—but he seemed so happy to be holding her that she couldn't bring herself to. She also figured that this was the best way to get James to continue to speak about his past with her; there was more he hadn't told her, she could tell.

"You never finished your story," she said casually, brushing some dirt off his sleeve. "How exactly did you end up here?"

His hand stilled in her hair. "Do you truly wish to know?"

She leaned back slightly, so she could look into his face. "Yes."

He stared into her eyes for moment before asking, "Have you ever heard of the pirate known as Jack Sparrow?"

"Can't say I have."

James quirked his lips into a smirk. "He would be sorely disappointed to hear that. Sparrow came to Port Royal just after I'd been promoted to Commodore. Twice I attempted to send him to the gallows, both times he managed to escape, and I pursued him. The first time, he led me into a world I'd never seen before. Supernatural lore-things any well-bred person would scoff at-I witnessed them." He paused, searching Amy's expression. She placed her hand in his and squeezed, willing him to go on. He looked down at their hands and continued, "The second time, I allowed him a day's head start. It should not have mattered much...not as much as it did. I can't help but think that if we'd immediately pursued them then... We encountered a hurricane—it did not appear to be anything the English Royal Navy could not handle...but I was wrong. We were so close to capturing them all so I gave the order to sail through it. What a fool, a damn fool!"

Amy placed her chin on his chest to look up into his eyes. "But you survived."

His eyes hardened over. "For what? I lost my crew, my commission...everything! I have nothing left. If only my life could have taken the place of one of my men in death!" He raised a hand to his eyes and turned his face away from Amy. She watched him for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. Gently she pulled his hand away from his face.

"Hey," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his torso, placing her chin on his shoulder. "Gotcha."

James was hesitant for a moment, tears still slipping down his cheeks, but he soon relaxed into the hug, wrapping his own arms around Amy. They remained there like that until Amy finally pulled back. "You deserve some fun, James." She got to her feet and held out her hand to him. "Come on. I'm going to teach you how to party like a twenty-first cent-" She broke off when she saw the confusion on his face. "I mean, a Scot. We're gonna party like proper Scots!"

James took her hand and rose. She reached up and wiped the tears from his face. "First, you've got to smile. Gimme at least a smirk." When he didn't, she gave him her own brightest smile. "Come on..."

She looked so wild with her hair sticking up in places, wide smile, and demanding eyes that he couldn't help but grin.

"There we are!" She chirped happily.

"What exactly is the purpose of the smile?" He asked.

"If you look like you're having fun, even if you aren't, you'll eventually trick yourself into thinking you're having fun." She led him away from the wall and down along the dirt road. "Besides, I think you look adorable like that. So if for nothing else, do it for me."

He smiled wider and raised her hand to his lips. "For you."

…

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends! Make it last forever, friendship never eeeeeeends!" The whole tavern shouted out in some vague melody. Standing on a table above them all was a red haired girl in a mini-skirt and sweater, conducting them with a bottle of dark liquid. On top of her head sat a black tricorn hat that belonged to a man down below her. She took a swig from the bottle, made a face, and continued swinging her arms about. She bent down to speak to the owner of the hat.

"This is great, yeah?" she shouted. "Pirates and the Spice Girls—who'd have known?"

The man made a grab for her bottle, but she pulled it away. "Hey, get your own!"

"That is mine!" He reached up to make another swipe at the bottle. She raised it higher out of his reach. He grinned deviously, a wicked glint in his eye. "If that's the game you wish to play..." He swept Amy off the table and into his arms...and promptly fell to the floor. The couple looked at each other, Amy lying atop James' chest, and burst out laughing.

"Yeah, very smooth, Ex-Commodore!" She shifted around until she was lying along the full length of James, chest-to-chest. She felt James' heart quicken in pace and his hands find their way to her waist.

"Amy..." he breathed, lifting his face closer to hers.

"There you are!" A voice familiar to Amy cut through the loud, rambunctious singing around them. She turned her head to find the Doctor standing not a foot away from them, looking rather annoyed yet relieved. "I told you to stay put."

She slid off James and rose to her feet. "I wasn't going to just stay in the TARDIS. I'm not traveling with you to admire your ship."

The Doctor opened his mouth to say something and sniffed. He closed his mouth again and sniffed louder. He leaned into Amy who leaned back slightly, unsure of what the Doctor was doing. "You've been drinking," he finally said, grabbing the bottle out of her hand. James stood up and caught the Doctor's attention. "And getting cozy with the locals? Pond..."

"Don't you even think about scolding me." She stepped closer to him, narrowing her eyes. "You're not my aunt, no matter what you say. I'm not little Amelia anymore! I'm twenty-one year old Amy. I can handle myself."

The Doctor's expression shifted from a disapproving glare to a proud grin. She smiled in response. "Of course you can. Come here." He pulled her into a hug, handing James the liquor bottle behind her back. When they pulled apart, the Doctor clapped his hands together. "Well, it's time to shove off. Argh!" He did his best pirate impression. Amy snorted and rolled her eyes. She turned around, remembering James' presence.

"James, this is the Doctor." She gestured to the man with the bow tie behind her. "Doctor, this is James Norrington, former Commodore of Port Royal."

The Doctor held out his hand and shook James'. "Pleasure to meet you! We really must be going, though." Amy looked at him in confusion and disappointment. He went on to explain, "While you were warming up the locals, I was roughing them up a bit. It'll only be a matter of time before they find me here. So say goodbye and let's go! Mr. Norrington." He nodded and then walked off a few paces to give Amy and James a bit of privacy.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Amy opened her arms and James stepped into them.

"Must you really leave?" He murmured into her hair.

"It's either that or fight with some pirates the Doctor stole from, which would make them very, very angry pirates. It'd be a bit messy..."

James shifted Amy away from him slightly so as to look in her eyes. "I don't have much to offer at the moment, Amy, but if you stayed I promise I would take care of you. We could-"

Amy pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. "First, I don't need anyone to take care of me. You just heard me establish with the Doctor, yeah? Or are you deaf? Second, as nice as staying here with you sounds...I really can't. I'm not supposed to be traveling with the Doctor right now, I'm supposed to be getting married." James' eyes widened. She lowered her hand from his mouth.

"How long have you been away?" He asked.

"That's sort of...complicated. Let's just say Rory won't know I've been gone. I'm getting married far in the future."

"Rory? That's his name?"

"Yeah. He's a big dork, but he's mine." She smiled fondly at a memory of him.

An unreadable expression passed across James' features. "Do you love him?"

"What? Well, I...yeah, I do." She nodded. "But again, it's sort of complicated." She looked back at the Doctor. James suddenly felt very connected to this Rory. Amy began to remind him of another girl from his own past. Quickly he grabbed Amy and spun her around to face him. She appeared shocked at first but soon became angry. The intense look in his eyes kept her silent though.

"If you love Rory, if you truly love him, go back to him," he spoke firmly. "If you don't, or if you're confused as to your feelings toward him, let him go. Do not give him false hope. That is the worst possible thing you can do to a man's heart."

Amy furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in thought. "Well, thanks for that advice," she said, "but I have some for you: Lighten up. You're not in Port Royal anymore, James. It's time to let go of Elizabeth and stop pitying yourself. Yeah, you've had a rough time of it, but that doesn't mean you have to mope about for the rest of your life. Drink, be merry, and for God's sake, have a go at some of those pirates for me." She smiled.

"Time to go, Pond." The Doctor raced up and grabbed Amy's arm. James saw a group of fierce-looking pirates enter the tavern, searching it for someone.

"Goodbye, James!" Amy shouted as she was pulled along by the Doctor toward the back of the tavern.

"Farewell, Amy," James said, but she was too far away, and the room was too noisy for her to hear it. He looked back over to the group of pirates who had spotted the Doctor and begun moving forward. Quickly grabbing the sword of a passed out man nearby, he rushed forward and blocked their path. "If you want them, you'll have to kill me first."

He fought with them until he was thrown out of the establishment. Laying face-down on the ground, he heard a loud noise like the grinding of gears, and felt a large gust of wind blow around him. Slowly lifting his face, he saw a tall blue box appear before him. When the noise and wind had stopped, a door opened and out stepped Amy. He scrambled into a sitting position and she grinned.

"I almost forgot to return this." She held out his hat. He took it with a small smile. "Party on, James!" She raised her fist in the air before walking back into the box, which slowly faded out of existence. He chuckled and put the hat back on his head.

"I shall indeed 'party on', Amy." He stood up and stumbled down the road, looking for the next tavern to do said partying at.

Author's Note: You know how sometimes you start out a story with a particular idea in mind, but once you actually begin writing it, the story takes on a life of its own and throws your original idea out the window? Yeah, that's what happened here. At first I thought this was going to be a "help-Norrington-get-better" fic, but Amy had other ideas as to how she wanted to spend her time with the former Commodore. I should not say that her intentions were not good (she wanted him to stop feeling sorry for himself and enjoy life), but they backfired and played into the development of the Norrington who Elizabeth and the others run into in DMC. Poor Jamie. :(