Jjail

Norrington's mood was rather depressingly glum as the morning crawled by. He
spent a great deal of time standing at that window, perhaps finally
comprehending what it meant to be caged, subject to the whims of others who
claimed authority. Or at least Jack was enjoying imagining that particular
understanding finally breaking over the commodore.

Two fist-sized chunks of hard, somewhat moldy bread were grudgingly tossed into
their cell shortly after the Guv'ner's departure, and a mug of tepid water was
brought before long as well. Even this unexpected bounty didn't seem enough to
lift Norrington's spirits, however.

Jack indulged in a few good swallows from the mug before ambling over to his
disconsolate companion. He felt unspeakably generous as he held it out in
offering.

"What's the point," Norrington said bleakly.


Jack snorted laughter, which brought a burning, mismatched green glare his way.
His effort at an appeasing grin didn't appear to win him any marks either.
"You've a flair for the dramatic there, Mister Commodore James Norrington
sir." He pressed the back of one hand to his forehead, swaying
dramatically in a near-swoon. "Woe is me! They'll hang me on the morrow!
However will I last the day?"

Face tight, Norrington took the mug. Tipped it up thirstily, but somehow,
rather surprisingly, kept himself from draining the whole thing. He handed it
back with several swallows remaining and turned his face again to the window.

Jack squeezed in beside him to look out, just on the off chance there might
actually be something worth seeing there. Hm. Nope. He took another sip of
water, holding it in his mouth to thoroughly saturate a tongue that still felt
too dry. Held the mug out. It was ignored. With an eyeroll, he caught a hand
and pressed the drink into it. "Buck up, man. You're not swinging
yet."


Norrington slid him a glance, sidelong. Lifted the mug and drained it dry,
watching him, frowning thoughtfulness bracketing his clear eye, twisting the
skin a bit around the swollen one.

The mug came down. The eyes didn't shift away. "Is that how you do it,
Jack?"

"Watch and wait. Be ready." Half a shrug. "All you can do."

Norrington's throat bobbed. "Until the noose goes 'round your neck."


He bared a few teeth in something not entirely like a smile. "Even then.
Never know what might happen 'tween the drop and the stop."

"I have no William Turner at hand."

Jack leaned on his shoulder. Let him make what he would of the mocking tilt to
his eyebrows. "Ahh, but I did. Be very nice to me, James
Norrington, and you might yet benefit from the lad's good deed."

Norrington looked pointedly at the arm draping over him. Conspicuously raked
eyes up the body half-melded to his own. Back to his face. "Why?" he
asked bluntly. "Why even consider helping me?"


"Because I made it to my ship that day," Jack told him casually.
"Because the fort's cannons stayed silent. Because you took your sweet
time about comin' after us." Fingers flicked towards Norrington's face.
"Had a good mate once, went by Bootstrap. One time he stood by an' let a
shitty thing happen to his captain. You followin' me?"

"I am."

"Conscience got the better of 'im afterward. He tried to balance the
scales, did a brave thing, an' he paid dearly for it."

"What does this have to do with me?"


"Pay attention," Jack said chidingly. "I've seen good and bad
men both stand by and let the wrong thing happen. It's what a man does when the
chance to set things to right comes around that decides which he really
is." His free hand gestured towards the world beyond the window. "He
sends away a cursed medallion to punish a mutinous crew." The hand swept
in, pressing lightly at the center of Norrington's chest. "Holds back when
duty tells him to strike."

"You intend to help me because you think me a...good man?"


"No," Jack said in a tone of amused exasperation. "I intend to try
to help you so that I'll have a commodore of the Royal Navy owing me an extraordinarily
large favor. Savvy?"

Norrington's mouth opened for words. Closed. That furrow in his brow looked to
be becoming a permanent feature.

Then he cleared his throat, chin lifting a little. "Define what you mean
by 'nice.'"


Jack began to grin.

***