FicWad

Most events in life didn't have a definite beginning. They started gradually, quietly, and one didn't always notice that he'd been caught into something until he was already ensnared. There were always multiple causes for any one major event, and most people--not even the ones directly involved--weren't privy to the particulars of each and every event. Indeed, they seemed to fade and mix into one another until one was never sure what thread exactly it was that had started their progress to the final stop.

For no logical reason on earth, James traced the events that brought Gavin to his life back almost a year. Not to the night Mary had offered herself to him, but to the night Jack had done so. He'd refused both, but it was to Jack he associated Gavin's presence with.

Jack, whom he hadn't seen in months. Jack, who knew nothing of Gavin. Jack, who probably never gave James a second thought.

Jack was out of his life. Permanently. And yet, as illogical as it was, every time James looked at the baby's tiny face, he thought of the pirate. Thought of Jack's delicate wrists and beautifully firm mouth. Thought of the way his hands danced in the air, painting fancies and dreams. Thought of the way his eyes gleamed in the candlelight, and his lopsided smile, and unbalanced walk.

He thought of the look in Jack's face after he'd turned down his offer back on the Dauntless. The way he'd studied James, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the end of the joke.

And he thought of Jack's face one month after the Turner's wedding, when he'd blown back into James's life like a hurricane.

James sighed and shifted Gavin in his arms as the memory overtook him once again.

Everyone, it seemed, was surprised at Jack's absence at the Turner wedding. James knew that Will and Elizabeth had expected him to come, as foolish and suicidal as it would have been. In the three months leading up to the wedding, Jack had sent missives of sorts--baubles, letters, messengers, and the like--to Will. Nothing explicit. No clues as to his whereabouts, to James's relief. Still, the messages gave them all a sense of peace to know Jack was safe.

The wedding was small, intimate, and elegant as befitting the social station of the groom. Elizabeth looked radiant, beaming happiness from every pore. Even though James was resigned to the way things had turned out, he still looked at her wistfully and imagined what their wedding would have been like.

All three of them kept an eye out the entire day for Jack, but the pirate never showed.

After the wedding, things returned to normal. Brown, the blacksmith, retired, leaving the shop to Will. Will and Elizabeth moved into the small house behind the smithy. Mary Black, salary paid by James, had gone to live and work for the Turners for as long as Elizabeth had need of her.

But now, James had to wonder. If he hadn't sent her away... If he hadn't given her work as a gift, if he'd done something else, then perhaps she'd still be alive.

But back then, he hadn't even know of her pregnancy. All he knew was he needed Mary out of his home. The Turner residence seemed the perfect place. Elizabeth had, after all, been born and raised a lady. She knew nearly nothing about housekeeping. In her father's house, she'd managed a house filled with servants to do the menial tasks. Of course, she had some knowledge, but James knew that she'd need some help to get her on her feet. Elizabeth needed help. James needed Mary away. It was perfect.

As for himself, James continued to run the fort as normal. If he neglected to go running after Jack and the Black Pearl as he'd said, well, there was much to do. Ships to repair, missives to write, colonies to protect. And there were other pirates in the waters that needed to be caught.

As much as the man haunted James's dreams, Jack soon became but the shadow of a memory during his waking hours.

And then he returned.

It was almost precisely one month after the wedding when Jack reappeared. James had gone to the smithy with an order for Will. The boy was making quite a name for himself as a sword maker, and James intended to see that he made a very good living off his considerable talent.

He'd just stepped inside when he heard that unforgettable voice.

"I couldn't risk it," came the familiar drawl. "And I didn't want to ruin your special day."

"I thank you for that, Jack. But Elizabeth was disappointed. So was I. I'm sure..."

"Will," Jack interrupted. "'Twas better this way. You married your lady fair and I stayed free. No one was inconvenienced by my presence."

Will snorted. "Inconvenienced," he repeated. "James Norrington wouldn't have been inconvenienced. He would have seen it as a present due to him. Lose a bride, gain a pirate to hang. And he would have be only too happy to clap you in irons, even at the risk of ruining Elizabeth's wedding day. Anything to further his career."

James stiffened. The gall of that insufferable child. For him to imagine that James derived pleasure at the idea of having to arrest someone Elizabeth cared for. Arresting someone he himself...

"Now, now, me boy. Don't be uncharitable," Jack purred. "There's more to our dear Jamie than meets the eyes, mark my words. He'd no sooner ruin the fair Elizabeth's wedding day than he would his own."

"Right," Will said doubtfully. "But, at any rate, we'll never have to worry about that. Just make sure you aren't arrested while you're here? I'd hate to have to break out of the hangman's noose once again."

"I promise you that I will do nothing to draw undue attention to myself," Jack said. "Now. Pass me the rum."

Feeling oddly hollow, James stepped outside the smithy. He felt betrayed. Not by Will; to tell the truth, he expected nothing less. They had been, after all, rivals for Elizabeth. Well, rivals in principle, although Will had always had what James had really wanted. Not just Elizabeth's hand, but her heart.

No, Will's scorn was no surprise, but Jack... Not that Jack owed him any loyalty. And he's spoken well of him, which was magnanimous, and yet...

He'd gone to visit Will and not James. Three months had past with nary a word, and now he was at the Turner residence. It was as if that night had never happened.

And, perhaps, that was the point. That night hadn't happened; James hadn't let it. If it had...

If it had, James wouldn't have been able to live with himself. So, perhaps it was better this way. James had nothing to be guilty over and Jack had nothing to remember. Thus, he visited his friends, the Turners, and avoided James so as not to be hanged.

Feeling calmer, James turned back to the smithy. As he approached, he made as much noise as he could.

"Mr. Turner?" he called from the door.

There was a brief scuffle inside, and then Will appeared. "Commodore," he said genially, although guilt lurked in his eyes and turned down his lips. "What a pleasant surprise. Elizabeth will be pleased to see you." Then he blanched and glanced behind him towards the house.

"I can't stay," James said stiffly. "I've a commission to you. A sword for young George Adams."

"Lord Adams's son?" Will's eyebrows went up.

James nodded. "This is an important opportunity for you, Mr. Turner. The more clients such as Mr. Adams you acquire, the more in demand you will become. Your work is very good, and..."

"And I could use the income to support my wife, yes I know," Will said, voice a little hard.

James smiled tightly. "I only want you both to be happy. If my help is not appreciated..."

"Forgive me, Commodore," Will said with a sigh. "I do appreciate your help. And, you are right; I may never be able to give Elizabeth the life she is accustomed to, but I can do my best to make her comfortable. And I do love making swords."

"And it shows. Yours are among the best I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Commodore. Please, would you like to go back and see Elizabeth? I know she'd like the company."

"No, thank you. I must return to the fort."

"Come to dinner soon?"

He nodded. "Good day."

James went back to the fort and finished his work for the day. Gillette and Groves tried to entice him to join them for a drink, but James declined. After the day he'd had, all he wanted was to seek the solitude of his own home.

"You shouldn't be angry at Will," Jack said when James stepped into his bedchamber.

Startled, James stopped in the doorway and surveyed the scene before him.

Jack was lounging in a chair by the door, legs thrown casually over the arms of the chair as he sat sideways. He had the lamp lit and was engulfed in the glow. His hat, coat, and sword were resting across the bed. A bottle of brandy was open on the table next to him, and a book was open in his lap.

He smiled toothily at James, mischief lurking in his rum colored eyes. "Come, come, Commodore. Give us a kiss." He lifted his chin, presenting his cheek. When James didn't move, he cocked his head and said, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

James forced himself to gather together his wits. "Should I be?" He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

Jack shrugged languidly and turned the page of his book. "We have some unfinished business, you and I. I thought you'd be glad to be done with it."

"I know of no..." He stopped talking when Jack fixed him with a look. Then he sighed. "I grow tired of finding people in here without my invitation."

"I do apologize." He closed the book and rose. "Will isn't yet settled with the idea that you only wanted the best for her. And he's young; he doesn't quite understand that just because you're a lawful man, you can still be an honorable one."

He was in James's space, and he smelled of the sea and of rum. It was a heady aroma and James's head swum.

"I don't know what you mean." His voice didn't sound like his own; it was rough and graveled and full of desire.

Had he no control around this man?

"Of course not. Kind of you, though, to give him the commission after hearing him impugn you honor. But you should have heard him change his tune after you left."

"After I did something to help him."

"Some people are remarkably self-centered, eh? Although Will is more centered around Elizabeth; you do something to help her, you make yourself worthy in his eyes." Jack gently caressed James's face with feather-light fingers, coming impossibly closer. "How goes your search for freedom, love?"

"How's yours for honor?" James shot back, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut.

Jack smiled. "I don't search for what is already there." He kissed James, hand snaking around to the back of his neck, holding him in place as if he were afraid James would run.

There was no where to run to, and no reason to go. Everything had led up to this moment, after all, from the first meeting on the docks to their last on the parapet when Jack had assured James that he'd been rooting for him to win. The tension and the promises had built between them, waiting for the opportune moment to act.

"Don't be angry with me either, love," Jack breathed as his clever hands divested James of his clothing. "I had to go to them first, you see."

"They're your friends, I understand." His hands were not as clever, and they fumbled and tugged awkwardly at Jack's clothing. He was continually distracted by the baubles in Jack's hair, and the skin that was bared, and Jack's mouth as it sought new places on his body, licking and nipping, spreading fire. "I'm just..." Better not to finish that thought.

"You're just the reason I came." Jack maneuvered him to the bed, mouth sucking a spot on James's neck.

He snorted and allowed Jack to strip his boots and trousers from him. A steady litany of "what am I doing" ran though his head, but it was drowned out as Jack's teeth scraped down his chest, sending trails of heat through him.

"So lovely," Jack whispered as he pulled James's shirt off him. "How do you stay so pale?"

James sat up and pulled Jack's clothes off. "How do you get so dark?" He ran his knuckles down Jack's sun soaked chest. "I often wear clothing while I'm on deck."

Jack grinned. "I'm not exactly a naked heathen on my Pearl."

"Not naked, at any rate." Gently, he touched Jack's lips, feeling the delicate bow shape with the tip of his fingers. "Why are you here?"

"Do you want me here?"

He nodded.

"Then why question?" Jack came to him, pressing his flesh against James's own. Their lips met, softly, and then hungrily. Their movements grew more and more frantic as the surged against one another, arousal building in them until the moved as one, with one mind and one purpose.

It was over too quickly. Much too quickly, but the past months had been hard on James. He'd not had the pleasure of anyone's company since Jack all those months ago, and the memory of Jack...

"Can I ask who else you've found in your room lately?" Jack asked after. He was spooned against James's side, one leg flung protectively over James's, his hand tracing idle patterns over James's chest.

"What?"

"You said you were tired of finding people in your room without invitation. Who's been in here?" He lifted his head and smiled. "Besides me."

James sighed and pet Jack's gnarled hair. "No one." He closed his eyes. "A maid who used to work here. She ... was waiting for me the night they announced the formal engagement of Elizabeth and Will."

"Oh?" Jack seemed intrigued. "Waiting..."

"Naked and in my bed." He grew hot at the memory, finding the girl under his comforter, her hair unbound and falling around her shoulders. She was well-endowed, and she knew how to display her assets to her advantage, giving even James a pause.

"Please tell me you took what she was offering." Jack sounded almost breathless as he imagined the scene.

"No," James said sharply. "Of course not. It was wrong. She was my employee and practically a child. It would have been..."

"Dishonorable, yes, I know." Jack kissed his chest. "It's a theme with you, love. Surprised I'm even here now."

James ran his Jack's spine. "You're not my prisoner."

"Shouldn't I be? I'm still guilty of everything I was before." He lifted his head and gazed at James through steady eyes.

He sighed and touched Jack's face gently. "We've had unfinished business. And... I missed you." He felt foolish saying it, but it was true. He'd missed Jack and had felt... empty since the day Jack had tripped out of his life and back to the Pearl. If he was a fool for giving his heart away so freely--and to a pirate--then he was a fool. At least he was an honest one.

Jack's expression softened. "I've missed you too, James." He kissed James softly and combed his fingers through the hair at his temple.

Their words renewed their passion, not for the first time that night. James lost count of the number of times he lost himself to the sensation of Jack's body against his, to the hair that clouded his face, the baubles that pressed and bit into his skin. Jack was a wonderfully generous lover with gentle hands and a wicked mouth.

It had been wonderful. They'd loved each other into exhaustion, granting James the best night's sleep he'd had in months. But, when the sun had risen the next morning, Jack was gone, faded like the night.

Only a small, carved figure of a bird in flight--a hawk--and a scrap of paper with the word freedom written on it had remained.

In his arms, Gavin squirmed and let loose a squawk, drawing James's attention back from his memories.

"Shhh," he soothed, bouncing Gavin lightly. "Go back to sleep."

But Gavin wasn't having any of it. He let out a screech, his tiny fists waving in the air, eyes screwed shut.

The door opened almost immediately and Mariah entered. "You shouldn't be up, James," she scolded, taking the baby. "Gavin can sleep in his bassinette. You needn't stay up with him every night." She sat on James's bed and loosened the neck of her nightgown to free a breast for Gavin.

James rubbed his eyes wearily and watched as the woman took care of his son. "I can't help it," he said. "I spend all day at the fort, and when I come home...." His cheeks warmed. "I miss him."

Mariah smiled, her eyes softening. "And he misses you. Don't think for an instant this child doesn't know who his father is. He adores you."

"Nonsense," he said, pleased nonetheless.

"You're almost never out of his sight. Of course he knows you." She kissed the fuzzy top of Gavin's head and then looked back to James. "It's been almost two months, James. You're here every single night, up with him at ever feeding. You do more than a real..." She stopped talking abruptly, lower lip caught by her teeth.

James said nothing.

The uncomfortable moment passed. Mariah shifted Gavin in her arms, eyes on the baby. "You should go out, James. Go drinking with your officers. Find a woman, even if it's just for the night."

"And risk another Gavin?"

"Not every woman is as careless as Mary was. And, if you don't want a woman for the night, then at least consider the ladies being thrown at you right now. I know you had your heart set on Mrs. Turner, but there are other young women of standing in Port Royal, all of whom would make a good wife to a man such as yourself."

His heart contracted at the thought. Rising, he went to the bed and sat next to Mariah. "I can't," he said softly, running his finger over Gavin's head. The child's skin was so soft, and he was so warm. He burned with life. "Especially not now." Or ever. "He's too young."

Mariah blinked and looked at him, eyes wondering. "Mary.... Mary didn't deserve you."

"Mary never had me." James smiled as Gavin's face screwed up, eyes squinched together as he sucked hard at Mariah's breast.

The woman winced and tugged on Gavin until the fierceness subsided. "She got you to take him in."

"He's my son."

"No one else would have."

He smiled faintly. "I like to think that I only did the honorable thing."

"Oh, yes. The honorable thing. Now everyone thinks you tupped your maid and then sent her away when you were through with her. Very honorable, James."

"Would you have had me act any differently? Would you have had me condemn this child for the sins of the mother?"

Mariah put her hand on his cheek. "No, of course not. But you seem determined to reward the mother for her deceit."

"Mary Black is dead, Mariah, and her soul is out of my hands," James said. He put his hand over Mariah's and squeezed. "All I care is that my son has the best life he can, no matter where he came from."

"You're too good, James. Too honorable."

He laughed and shook his head. "Yes, well. It does seem to be my curse."