It had only been a day since a blacksmith had embarrassed the Royal Navy by joining forces with a pirate to take their fastest ship. The memory of the incident still stung James Norrington and made red rise to his cheeks. The spectacle had wounded his pride, but he was concerned with something he valued more than anything, perhaps even his own career.

That something was still asleep in his quarters, having completely missed the first watch he was assigned. The Commodore's laxness in punishment was understandable. In truth Armand Gillette probably should have stayed ashore; after all he was nearly drowned and still concussed if you asked any of the informed members of the crew.

James was making his way down to Gillette's shared quarters as Lt. Groves was walking out, adjusting his hat. He smiled as he saw his superior, but greeted him in a low and grave voice.

"He's still asleep Commodore, I'll take the next watch, but it's almost unnatural sir. He's just lying there, hasn't stirred since you last saw him."

Trying desperately to keep his concern off of his face Norrington nodded.

" Thank you, Theodore, for taking the watch. And for checking up on him."

" Think nothing of it sir, just be sure not to mention it to him when he wakes; he's frightfully temperamental about that, and my shipyard French is a bit rusty, wouldn't know half of the things he'd call me."

This time his grin reached his eyes and he was once more the cheerful midshipman from eight years ago, able and confident, but relaxed and jovial. 'When this mess is cleared up, I have to write to London about a promotion for him.' James thanked God for the general lull in appointments; he could expect to keep both Groves and Gillette on as lieutenants for a least a couple more years. Due to his rank and his family history in the Royal Navy, he did have some pull with Whitehall but he just hadn't gotten around to writing those letters yet.

He knew that he was being selfish, Armand deserved to rise to greatness, but life without his very faithful second wasn't even worth envisioning.

Shaking his head in an attempt to calm his thoughts, he silently opened the small door, ducking his head to get in. Once inside the quarters, he barred the door with the chair that remained by the occupied bedside, taking his preferred place on the edge of the bed. Armand's breathing was slightly troubled, his face creasing into an unconscious wince every time he inhaled. The neck of his nightshirt was low enough to reveal the angry bruising on his chest that Norrington knew to extend down most of his diaphragm, reminders of the surgeon's desperate attempts at expelling the salt water trapped in his lungs. His auburn hair was mussed from sleep, flopping careless over his forehead to hide his pale eyebrows. As James inspected his scalp, he could still see the angry gash from a stray piece of wood. Armand's color was improving and that was heartening. Although James did not know if the redness of Armand's cheeks was from returning vitality or the rising of fevered blood. Running his finger down the side of his lover's face, he felt the rough stubble that was too fair to see in the darkness of the cabin. James couldn't help but run his hands along Armand's arms, checking to reassure himself that there were no other serious injuries. The younger man sighed in his sleep, face contorting slightly in a wince. The Commodore traced away a worry line that had formed on Armand's forehead. His lieutenant looked much more relaxed than he had in years.

Interrupting this new train of thought, soft brown eyes opened slowly, darting across the room to gain his bearings before settling on the figure beside him. As James met those eyes it seemed that, even as they chased after a ship and a rogue governor's daughter, he had found the only thing that was truly worth having.