Chapter Text
Misery, thy name is the Black Pearl, James Norrington thought as he watched the crew of Jack Sparrow’s infamous galleon scrambling around the main deck in what could only be described as clumsy chaos. The inept sailors looked like they came straight out of a Danse Macabre painting, their scrawny arms hauling the halyard, stiff legs getting tangled in the rigging, wooden eyes being adjusted in their sockets. When the moon emerged from behind a heavy cloud, casting a silver beam of light onto the ship, James half expected bare bones and decaying skin to be exposed. No, those pirates were not cursed, but they didn’t seem to fare much better either, forming the oddest band of misfits, cripples and drunks the former commodore had ever seen.
Sadly, he was one of them.
It took a while, but eventually black, tattered sails fluttered in the late-evening breeze and their journey to god-knows-where began. James wasn’t sure why he had been allowed to come along after getting drunk beyond reason, threatening to kill Sparrow and starting a brawl with the entire tavern, but it was obvious that the eccentric pirate wasn’t particularly selective when it came to crewmembers. All in all, the words “yer hired” had been uttered, albeit under duress, and James was faced with another unpleasant prospect - referring to Sparrow as - ugh - his captain.
Norrington shook his head. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - not only had he been mercifully accepted into the fold by his former adversary, but he also had to suffer the added indignity of being told he “smelt funny.” In all fairness, the man may have had a point - the stench of rum, mud, and swine waste was still clinging to him tightly - but it wasn’t like Sparrow was known for his high standards of personal hygiene!
Glancing up, Norrington saw the pest in question standing on the quarterdeck, engaged in a heated conversation with Elizabeth. He was gesticulating wildly, swaying a bit with every movement, then produced a rather sturdy key from the inner pocket of his coat and offered it to her. Scrunching her nose at that, she folded her arms against her chest defensively, reluctant to accept it.
James felt his blood boil. There was only one lock a key like that would fit into - the captain’s quarters.
Bastard! Not even an hour had passed since she came abroad, and he was already propositioning her!
James had a sudden urge to rush over there and knock Sparrow’s golden teeth out. While he had long accepted that Elizabeth’s heart belonged to William Turner, he still felt protective of her, especially on a ship full of sleazy buccaneers. He wasn’t going to let their grubby fingers touch her - not on his watch!
On second thought, it would be wiser to investigate further before starting another fight. Getting thrown overboard for attacking the captain - again - wasn’t going to help anybody at that point.
“Just stay calm, James... stay calm,” he growled through gritted teeth, before taking a deep breath. Keeping a cool head was going to be an essential surviving tool on that blasted ship, so it was time to make good use of his military training.
Trying to look as inconspicuous as he could by adding a casual bounce to his normally rigid stride, Norrington approached the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck and found himself just within earshot of their discussion. So far so good, but he couldn’t just stand there aimlessly, scowling at Sparrow like an angry hawk - he needed a diversion. For lack of a better idea, he walked up to the rail and pretended to tighten a rope around a belaying pin. Though, on closer inspection, the pathetic excuse of a knot definitely needed some readjusting, so he ended up actually retying the damn thing, ears focused on Elizabeth and Jack.
“Lizzie, it’s only a matter of time b’fore someone notices that yer… shall I say, differently equipped, savvy?”
James couldn’t see her reaction, but judging by the awkward pause that followed, she did not savvy, and was probably gaping at the pirate in confusion. Then he heard Jack sigh heavily.
“Meaning,” he continued, “ye better off stowed away in me cabin, lass.”
James rolled his eyes.
“And where are you going to sleep, captain?” She asked in a tone laced with suspicion, her brown eyes most likely narrowed.
“Don’t worry ‘bout that darling,” Jack assured her, and oddly enough, he sounded sincere - not a trace of an innuendo. “Unless, of course, ye want me there, luv.”
Ah, there it was. The former navy man could picture Elizabeth glaring daggers at her interlocutor.
Still, as painful as it was to admit it, Sparrow was right - it was dangerous for a woman to stroll around the ship carefree, surrounded by sailors deprived of a female’s… companionship. And although Jack had the reputation of being a ladies’ man himself, he wasn’t the type to force himself onto an unwilling party. After all, he hadn’t touched Elizabeth when they had been stranded on a deserted island a while back, even though he could have easily taken advantage of the opportunity. No, even a scoundrel like him had his standards, limiting his lewdness to playful advances. The rest of his crew, however, James wasn’t so sure about.
Elizabeth remained silent, hesitating still, so Sparrow continued his babbling.
“I’ll be a perfect gentleman, promise,” he assured her, his broken compass clicking open. “All ye need t’ devote yer complete and undivided attention to is finding t’ thing yer heart most desires - the Chest of Davy Jones.”
“To find Will!” She insisted, and Jack must have nodded vigorously, the beads and trinkets attached to his hair jingling with the movement. He was up to something, no doubt about it, but the inner workings of his half-fried brain were too perplexing to even attempt an educated guess. One thing was certain - he didn’t give a rat’s about the faith of one Mr. Turner.
James could almost hear the cogs in his own head turning. If Sparrow was telling the truth - as unlikely as it was - and the tale of the Flying Dutchman was real, that would present an interesting opportunity-
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Elizabeth storming down the stairs, Jack’s compass held in one hand and the key to his quarters in the other.
“Yer welcome by the way!” He heard Sparrow calling after her in a petulant tone. “And do try not t’ burn anything down this time!”
She ignored him and slipped inside the cabin, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang.
Well, that’s one less problem to worry about, James concluded, Elizabeth’s safety being his number one priority, which only leaves about a dozen more to deal with.
He suddenly yawned, his eyelids becoming considerably heavier, the strain of the grueling, alcohol-filled day finally catching up to him. Some much-needed rest was in order, especially considering he had been assigned to the daytime shift by quartermaster Gibbs, and he would most likely be put to work as early as at sunrise. The problem was, he had to find a suitable place to turn in, and he doubted The Scourge of Piracy in the Caribbean would be a welcomed sight in the cannon deck, where the crew slept.
“Why the long face sub-commodore?” a hoarse voice asked, and James looked up to see a stocky, balding man in front of him, his yellowish eyes glinting with mischief.
“Don’t ye mean ex-commodore?” A taller, lankier pirate corrected, earning himself a rather severe glare from his comrade.
Norrington recognized them instantly - they had been a part of Barbossa’s cursed band that had held Elizabeth captive and tried taking over the Dauntless. In fact, he had a distinct memory of them wearing feminine dresses at the time - for reasons he prefered not to delve into. They must have escaped the gallows and joined Sparrow’s crew at some point, proving once again that Jack’s standards were unbelievably lax.
“Ex mean former, sub mean under, me thinks,” the skinny man continued, either deliberately ignoring or completely unaware of his partner’s visible annoyance.
“Yer face will end up under me boot if ye don’t shut yer piehole,” the other man growled, then turned to James, flashing his rotten teeth slyly.
“We ‘ave a little gift fer ye from the Capt’n,” he announced happily, revealing a bucket of clean water held in his hand.
James raised his eyebrows. He didn’t expect such a thoughtful gesture from the likes of Sparr-
Splash.
The next thing he knew, the contents of the bucket were thrown directly at his face, rendering him soaking wet, cold droplets trickling down his hair, his forehead, and his coat.
“Welcome aboard, sub-ex-commodore!” The shorter pirate sent him a mock salute, clearly marking Norrington’s place in the pecking order, which apparently was lower than the rats in the bilges. The dim-witted duo quickly retreated below decks, snickering with childlike glee all the way there, leaving a seething James behind.
Norrington huffed and wiped the water off his face angrily before throwing a glare at the helm, where he expected to see a smug Jack looking down at him, laughing at his misfortune. To his surprise, though, Sparrow wasn’t there, the ship being steered by an old man with a parrot on his shoulder, neither of the two interested in the shenanigans happening on the main deck.
It took James a few frantic rounds back and forth between port and starboard to calm down, his fury waning with every step. He eventually found himself at the prow of the ship, deep in thought, staring ahead at the dark waters that blended into the midnight sky. After taking a deep breath, he released the air through his nose slowly, shoulders slumping in defeat. One glance at his tattered uniform was enough to evoke a pang in his heart, the raggedy coat serving as a bitter reminder of the man he used to be, and the sorry sod he had become - alone, broken, and tired, surrounded by men who hated his guts...
How had he put himself into that mess? Not too long ago he was a respectable officer of the Royal Navy with high hopes of becoming an admiral one day, but then it all went to hell when a certain dreadlocked menace showed up in his life and wrecked it into pieces. Capturing Sparrow had become an obsession of his, stronger than a drunkard’s love of rum, more relentless than a greyhound hunting a fox, but ultimately, foolish and pointless.
What on God’s green earth had possessed him to pursue that mad pirate across the Seven Seas, going so far as to sail through a bloody hurricane?! Maybe he was the mad one? That fatal night, off the coast of Tripoli, he had lost his crew, his beloved ship, his career, and his dignity - and for what?! A wobbly-legged, word-slurring scoundrel who was on a wild goose chase of his own, going after an imaginary creature and its non-existent Chest!
Norrington had half a mind to jump into the row boat and head back to the nearest land, swiftly removing himself from the insanity of it all, but thought better of it. He didn’t have a place to go anyway, and he wouldn’t leave Elizabeth unsupervised, especially with Jack looming over her like a hungry vulture. He wondered if she would eventually fall for the pirate’s roguish charm, discarding Turner the same way she tossed James aside without so much as batting an eyelid. And, in all honesty, it wouldn’t be a stretch of an imagination.
Sparrow was as odd as they came, and certainly in dire need of a good bath, but even James had to admit there was something alluring about the man. He had an aura of mystery about him, carrying a promise of an adventure or, at the very least, a passionate night, and James could see the appeal of that… in theory, of course. At the same time, Sparrow seemed so approachable, seducing his prey with an impish grin and a whimsical disposition while easily concealing a lifetime of debauchery. In a way, he was like a cobra - exotic and captivating, yet treacherous and deadly when provoked or intimidated. Objectively, Norrington could see why women tended to find Jack attractive with his peculiar type of beauty - the sharp cheekbones, the sun-kissed skin, the dark eyes that shimmered with devilish intentions-
James blinked twice, then shook his head in exasperation. What was he doing, fawning over Sparrow like that?! It was a testament to how exhausted his poor mind must have been to even allow such outrageous musings. He needed sleep, and he needed it badly! Besides, once the outrage that had temporarily heated the blood in his veins was replaced with fatigue, the chilly breeze instantly registered, swirling over his wet clothes mercilessly. It was too cold to stay on the main deck, and since the canon deck was out of the question, James would have to settle for the cargo bay that night. He didn’t care at that point as long as he could get some rest without being harassed by some thick-headed miscreant.
The ship’s hold turned out to be a rather good choice, all things considered, and James hit the sack as soon as he got there - figuratively and literally speaking - throwing himself at the neatly stacked bags of flour that ended up serving as his bed. By no means was it a comfortable arrangement, but at least the place was dry, relatively warm and, most importantly, pirateless!
The moment his eyes fluttered shut, he started drifting off, his body sagging into the makeshift mattress, ready to be taken into the arms of Morpheus. A blissful smile appeared on his face, especially when heavily-ringed fingers started caressing his cheek in soft circular motions, eliciting a quiet hum from his lips. The gentle touch felt so nice, though its mere presence was quite jarring, considering both of his hands were resting on his chest, and he didn’t wear any jewelry-
As awareness kicked in, Norrington jumped up with a yelp, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He was on his feet, three leaps away from the spot, before his mind even registered who the intruder was. Once his senses returned with full force, he still had to blink twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. To his utter dismay, the sight before him remained the same - it was none other than Jack, splayed out on the flour bags, a brazen smirk peeking out from underneath his moustache.
“What the hell are you doing here Sparrow?!” James demanded, his heart still racing, heavy breaths refusing to even out. The imbecile was lucky his shock mollified the urge to commit murder.
"Captain, if ye plase,” Jack calmly replied, straightening his coat nonchalantly as he got up. “And, this’ a really good question - wha’ am I doing here? I was just ‘bout to ask ye meself.”
James gaped at him for a few seconds. He didn’t think it possible, but Jack made even less sense than he usually did.
“Get out of here and leave me be!”
“In any other circumstances, I’d say this being me ship, I can go whe’eva I fancy,” Jack said in a husky tone, swaying towards James slowly, “but, this ain’t me ship, and this ain’t me fancy now, is it?”
Norrington backed away instinctively until he crashed into a pillar that suddenly emerged behind him. His confusion was on par with the indignation he felt, and it showed in his expression.
“What the devil are you blabbering about?! Do you ever make any sense?!”
James had always suspected that the gibberish Jack was prone to spew out stemmed from either of the two sources - his madness or the excess of rum. This time, however, the pirate’s gaze was sharp, bearing no trace of lunacy or intoxication. In fact, he looked like a hungry wolf, sizing up his soon-to-be meal with great deliberation before the final strike.
“Wha’ I’m saying is,” Sparrow continued, dangerously close now, “I’m not really here, yer not really here, and here’s not really here, as we both are,” he paused, tapping James’ forehead with his index finger, “in there.”
Norrington opened his mouth and subsequently closed it, words failing him completely.
Was Jack implying he was imagining things? Was it a fevered delirium of some sorts, or just a dream? Either way, the notion was ridiculous! The dolt was playing mind games with him - his preferred technique of tortute! Even if James had lost all of his faculties, Sparrow would’ve been the last person to make an appearance in his nocturnal fantasies!
“And yet, here I am,” Jack responded to the unspoken sentiment, as if he could read James’ thoughts, then bowed cordially, spreading his arms wide. “At yer pleasure.”
“P-pleasure?!” James spluttered, pushing his back harder against the pillar, so much so that the wooden construction creaked under the added pressure.
So it was true! His feeble mind had betrayed him like that! A spectacular crowning of a miserable day!
“Come, come now, James,” Sparrow purred, circling him like a bird of prey, “don’t be shy.”
Norrington gulped, too perturbed to move a muscle, and Jack used the opportunity to stand suggestively close, less than an inch away, effectively trapping the former navy man between a rock and a hard place. And there was definitely something hard rubbing against James’ thigh.
“Jack, wha-what are you…” Norrington stammered, breath hitching up again, tiny beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “This is pure insanity!”
“Not me head we’re in,” Sparrow shrugged, amusement evident in his light-hearted tone. He then leaned in, whispering into James’ ear, “It’s more than obvious tha’ ye want me, so take what ye can.”
“Nonsense! I-I want nothing to do with you!” James protested, his unsteady voice sounding less convincing than he would have liked.
Jack smiled innocently. “But ye did, in fact, choose to follow me into a hurricane, did ye not? Ye wanted me so bad, ye risked yer crew, yer ship, yer career, and yer - wha’ was tha’ last one? - ah, dignity! Now, as far as I'm concerned, tha’ is quite a bit of something for something ye call nothing, eh?”
It was very unfortunate that he couldn’t argue with that logic.
What happened next, James was unable to comprehend because when Jack’s lips crashed against his without so much as a warning, his brain must have changed its state of matter from solid to gas, and evaporated through his ears in a split second. It would certainly explain why he hadn’t pushed the pirate away and proceeded to slap himself awake, but instead, he had closed his eyes and actually reciprocated, releasing a shameful moan in the process.
All of it felt so real - the faint whiff of rum on Jack’s breath, the soft texture of the captain’s tongue against his own, even the scratchy moustache, lightly grazing his upper lip…
Resistance had never been a viable option.
Sparrow tilted his head to deepen the kiss while his hand traveled to the nape of Norringtons’ neck, pressing it lightly to relieve some of the tension accumulated there. It worked wonders. Not only did James fail to voice a protest, but he fully gave into his desire, one arm wrapping around Jack’s slim waist, pulling him closer, the other resting against his bare back, fingers getting tangled in his thick dread-
Wait - his bare back?
Blinking his eyes open, Norrington broke away and was more than a little surprised to see Jack in all his naked glory, the captain’s clothes and precious effects suddenly gone, as if they vanished into thin air. A resounding gasp followed the discovery and James took in the breathtaking sight before him. Sparrow looked like a bronze statue of a greek kouros, the dim candlelight imbuing his lean body with a golden hue, making it stand in sharp contrast to James’ alabaster one, which - shockingly - was also completely exposed.
The two found themselves in an awkward embrace for a moment, before a light chuckle broke the silence. The pirate, naturally, was unbothered by the development, a kind of smug superiority written all over his face. Even as a figment of someone else’s imagination, he was always two steps ahead of the game, bending the rules or making up his own whenever it suited him.
“Funny thing ‘bout dreams,” Jack murmured seductively, his long fingers snaking around James’ wrists before guiding the officer’s hands to rest against his tanned chest, “no judgement,” he proceeded to slide them lazily along his sides, dragging them down to his narrow hips, “no consequences,” he led them further back, only to make the final stop at his firm buttocks, “no regrets!” With that, he swiftly pushed James’ palms in, allowing all ten digits to sink into the ample flesh. Norrington released a shaky breath, unable to stop himself from exploring the offered expanse of skin, rubbing and squeezing it indulgently. A throaty grunt sounded in the air, and James suspected it might have been released by his own mouth.
All the devils in hell must have rejoiced the day they had sent Sparrow to earth, their greatest creation designed to tempt innocent men to succumb to their sinful urges. But then again, James had never been particularly religious. Still...
“I… I shouldn’t,” he breathed out, his words lacking any conviction, greedy hands never leaving Jack’s backside as if they were glued onto it permanently.
“Ye can do wha’eva’ ye want, mate.” Sparrow’s eyes were hazy with lust as he leaned in and started planting small kisses on James’ neck. “Here, ye can let yerself be free,” he whispered in between nibbles, head ducking lower and lower, leaving a moist trail from James’ collar bone, down his chest, all the way to his abdomen, “and the whole world be none the wiser.”
Well, he did make a good point.
Jack’s ministrations sent jolts of pleasure through Norrington’s body, his contentment manifesting itself in the increased activity between his thighs. When the captain of the Black Pearl got down on his knees, James felt his own were going to buckle from anticipation, and he quickly steadied himself by grabbing Jack’s shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. There might have been a quiet whimper accompanying the movement, but to his relief, the pirate refrained from mocking it. He was too busy taking good care of James’ navel anyway, teasing it with his tongue, purposely taking his time with the appetizer instead of going straight for the main course.
James swore under his breath, but the smoldering remains of his pride refused to have him beg Sparrow to divert his attention elsewhere. However, after about a minute of prolonged torment, pride turned out to be a fickle thing, and there was only so much self-restraint James was willing to exercise. Besides, a certain part of his body began twitching impatiently, expressing firm disapproval at being ignored for such a long time, and something had to be done to placate it.
“Sparrow...” he managed to rasp out between sharp inhales, then hesitated, thinking of a way to phrase his request without sounding too desperate. Why he even cared about saving face in such circumstances was beyond him.
“Captain,” Jack corrected, not even bothering to look up, but his finger did brush against James’ throbbing arousal, earning a wordless gasp from the former navy man.
Satisfied with the reaction, Jack finally made eye contact, his gaze feigning innocent curiosity, but James knew very well there were layers upon layers of wickedness behind it. “Something on ye mind, Mr. Norrington?”
There was a glint of gold shining through his cocky grin, and James couldn’t believe how accurate the dream version of his archnemesis was. And by ‘accurate’ he really meant infuriating.
“Jack-” he tried again, his attempt cut short when something wet glided slowly along his length, rendering him incapable of producing any other sound but a high-pitched moan.
Arching his back like a tightly drawn bow, James felt a wave of quivers rippling through his spine, years of denied pleasure finally reaping the rewards. The rough block of wood behind him prevented him from falling, but it voiced an objection by squeaking loudly, its sharp edge cutting into his cleft and chafing it raw as punishment. James didn’t even mind, his nails digging deep into Jack’s shoulder blades for additional stability.
Sparrow knew what he was doing, his tongue swirling around the tip with expert precision, toying with it mercilessly, far from giving him release, but just enough to send James into another bout of tremors. Still, it wasn’t enough. James needed something more, his cannon already lit, but not ready to fire yet.
“J-Jack… would you mind - oh god - please...” he heard himself whining, dignity be damned. It was just a dream after all. He really hoped he wasn’t one to talk in his sleep though.
“So needy,” Jack muttered, clearly entertained by having Norrington at his mercy.
Grinding his teeth, James let out a low groan, frustrated at being denied again, his patience finally running its course. His hand reached down to end the tortutre, but the arrogant maggot swatted it away.
“No cheating, Jamie,” he warned in a sing-sang voice, dark eyes twinkling with sadistic glee.
“Jack!” James choked out, the sound coming dangerously close to a sob. It wasn’t his fault breathing became such a difficult chore when pleasure and pain seemed to twist his most sensitive part into a tight knot “Y-you evil bastard.”
“No need for name-calling,” he heard the pirate respond, but to his great - great - relief, a second later, he felt Sparrow’s warm breath swiping over his eager manhood, those soothing lips running along its length, finally inviting him in. Jack tried out a few different angles until he managed to take him in fully, then proceeded to show off his devilish skills by working his neck in a steady rhythm, the trinkets in his hair jingling along.
Throwing his head back, James gave out a throaty goran that would have woken up the entire ship had the crew actually been there. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such intense delight - probably never, as sad as the conclusion was.
Meanwhile, Sparrow continued his efforts at an increased pace, his mouth, for once, serving to please instead of annoy. And James appreciated the change very much. As new waves of pleasure washed through his body, his legs started shaking, and Jack had to steady him by gripping his calves. That didn’t prevent his hips from giving an involuntary thrust, the action met with a muffled groan from the captain.
Unsure whether the sound meant approval or discontent, James immediately felt a ridiculous need to apologize, always mindful of his manners, even in the midst of an erotic encounter in a filthy dream. His lips parted to voice his remorse, but all that came out was a quiet whimper as Jack’s tongue engaged in some wicked trickery, further enhancing the increadible sensation. The pirate was certainly committed to the task, and James was so close to getting his release, teetering on the edge of a climax when-
His eyes flew open as he jolted up to a sitting position, his chest heavy, mouth gasping air as much as it could. Scanning the cargo bay, he quickly realized that he was all by himself, fully clothed, without a certain buccaneer attached to his groin. What was evident in his nether regions, however, was the enraged hardness pressing against his breeches, begging to be tended to without further delay.
Oh, how wonderful, a sarcastic inner voice rang in his ears, now I’m awake!
An angry huff and a few frantic strokes later, his body was content, but his soul was gutted. Which demonic creature had he offended to be punished with such a heinous nightmare? Was there any rationale behind this horror?
Tortuga! He blamed Tortuga! That bloody town was full of dark alleys, shoddy brothels and sleazy taverns, all filled with drunken pirates and disreputable women engaging in various acts of depravity. And although his last stay in the port had been relatively brief, he’d still had the misfortune of witnessing his fair share of atrocities - vile deeds that must have seared into his brain and manifested themselves in his nighttime visions.
However, that didn’t explain why it had been Jack - of all people - to invade his dream, and it certainly didn’t explain why he had enjoyed it so much. With a heavy sigh, James decided his brain was too deprived of oxygen to ponder that conundrum. He needed some fresh air, and so, he let his stiff legs carry him to the main deck, where, hopefully, nobody would dare to bother him again. Otherwise, he was going to go straight for the kill.
James also really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y, hoped to avoid encountering the swashbuckling genesis of his misery. That would probably warrant a violent reaction as well. Maybe Jack had finally drunk himself to death and his corpse had been thrown overboard? Or maybe he’d fallen off a mast and had broken his neck? Or or or maybe-
No such luck.
James only managed to take a few steps outside when he saw the devil himself - and heard him too! A snoring Sparrow was splayed in a hammock that hung between the stairs to the quarterdeck and the entrance to his cabin, an empty bottle of rum pressed firmly against his chest. The possesive way he clung onto it, even in his sleep, reminded James of a small child hugging a stuffed animal for comfort. The glorious image of his captain was completed with a bundle of messy braids sticking from underneath his tricorn, one bare foot hanging over the edge of the stretched cloth, and a long trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.
That same mouth that had given him so much pleasure just a few minutes ago-
Stop it James, stop it right now! His inner voice chastised him sternly, and Norrington shook his head to clear his mind.
What was happening to him? Had he fallen so low that he got smitten by that bafoonish oaf? It was fair to say that his former occupation hadn’t been particularly conducive to indulging in carnal desires, and under that kind of imposed solitude even a monkey would have seemed alluring, but Jack Sparrow? Why, oh why - of all the people on earth - did it have to be him?!
Perhaps it wasn’t about Jack at all? Maybe it was the loss of authority and the subsequent need to have an arrogant outlaw submit to him that had brought about this fantasy in the first place? Ever since James was a child, he had been taught that the world was black and white. The Navy had hammered that idea into his head - repeatedly. There were the good men of this earth - officers and nobility - that stood for order and clarity, and there were the bad men - criminals and pirates - that always broke the rules and gave rise to chaos. James hated chaos. Chaos equaled confusion, and confusion was bad for the soul...
The older he’d gotten, however, the more difficult it had become to ignore all the shades of gray squeezed in between that moral dichotomy. And Jack was the grayest of the gray, sailing comfortably through the murky waters of questionable ethics and - on rare occasions - noble intentions. So, it would stand to reason that since James had lost his uniform, and started to question the values it represented, his perturbed mind was sneakily telling him that all the gray areas of life and their chief personification could literally su-
The first ray of sunshine peeked over the horizon, announcing a new day was about to begin. James glared at it as if to wish it away. There went any chances of a good night’s sleep - but then again, he wouldn’t be able to get a wink of it anyway. Not after that.
Resigned to his faith, he tried to muster up some mental strength to face whatever challenges were awaiting him next. He wasn’t going to let a nocturnal fling drive him insane. That was Sparrow’s territory. And Sparrow had been permanently banned from entering his head - at any time of the day or night!
With that resolution made, James turned around briskly and stomped away in search of some ropes to untangle - or hang himself with.
To be continued…