Pirates of the Caribbean: At Wit's End

Co-written by princessbertha and maska

Greetings all. Welcome to our sordid attempt at Pirates of the Caribbean humour. Well, it may not be that sordid. That of course depends on you. In keeping with the spirit of the pirates films, this fic was truly a transnational effort. Maska is a Brit who has a soft spot for Norrington and Beckett and PrincessBertha is an American who deals well with Maska's enthusiasm for the British characters whilst of course secretly liking them herself. As a result of our transnational effort, the spelling periodically alters depending on which of us happened to be typing at the time.

Anyhow, enjoy and feedback is appreciated.

The relentless sun bore down as Lord Beckett added some lemon to his third cup of tea that morning.

"Lemon, Admiral?" asked Beckett.

"Why thank you, old chap," replied Norrington, holding out his teacup, made of bone china, which had been imported by the East India Trading Company years previously when they had in fact operated in the east. It had a pink floral pattern and was Norrington's favourite teacup. There was a pause as both men sipped their Earl Grey, staring out into the nothingness of Davy Jones' Locker. Norrington coughed politely, and said to Beckett,

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Hmmm, it is."

It was a regular tradition of Beckett and Norrington's daily routine in the locker. After this cup of tea, they would proceed to drink another and another in the manner that only the British knew. Generally they would drink 14 cups in succession, but never more than 15. One had to know one's limits with these things.

However, much to Norrington and Beckett's dismay, a smelly pirate, who Norrington vaguely recalled had been one of Jack Sparrow's crew, of course he didn't know for sure since filthy pirates all looked alike after all, ran past, rather rudely knocking Beckett's teacup out of his hand and sending it crashing onto the sand.

"Bad form!" Beckett cried leaping to his feet and cuffing the pirate around the head. "Jolly bad form! Don't you know that my plot went horrifically wrong when that Jones character broke Turner's teacup!"

Beckett, you see, did not like to be reminded of his untimely death. As far as he could reckon, everything had gone drastically down hill at what was known between himself and Norrington as 'The Teacup Incident.' The dreadful, filthy, unwashed pirates, who did not even have the decency to wear wigs like civilized men, considered breaking Beckett's teacups to be the rarest and purest of pleasures to be found in the Locker.

Meanwhile, Norrington had finished his Earl Grey and was looking around the barren landscape. He pulled a pocketwatch from his coat and looked at the time.

"Turner should be here soon," remarked the Admiral. Beckett rolled his eyes.

"Fantastic, I can't wait to see him again," he drawled, putting undue emphasis on certain syllables and giving the distinct impression that seeing captain of the Flying Dutchman was ranked lower than giving up the king's colonies on his list of things to do for a jolly nice afternoon.

Sure enough, the Flying Dutchman came into view shortly thereafter. All around the ship were tiny boats carrying one or two souls of men and women who had died at sea. They dispersed around the island, probably never to be seen by the two British gentlemen ever again. No matter how many souls Turner brought, the population of the Locker never seemed to increase. As the last few souls made their way up the white, sandy beaches, Beckett and Norrington could see Will running across the sand toward them, looking positively windswept and apparently holding his head at the most dashing angle he could.

"Tea, Turner?" Norrington asked, although one had the distinct impression he would rather throw the tea at Elizabeth's husband than hand it to him in one of Beckett's rather dainty prized teacups.

"Oh, thank you," said Will, accepting the tea gratefully and sitting himself in Norrington's chair. The admiral said nothing, on account of his stiff upper lip. Will, legs spread wide, as relaxed as could be, began his daily update, "I've just had the hardest day at sea to date! First of all, there seems to have been some tidal wave along the coast, judging by the number of souls I've had to shepherd, and there have been problems with the Dutchman, she's not young, you know—"

Beckett wondered at the use of "she" for the 'Dutchman' and said sarcastically, "oh, how terrible the afterlife must be for you, what with you still being sort of alive and getting to travel around, and not stuck on a lovely little island with filthy pirates—"

"Oh! You find the island lovely? That's certainly good to hear!" remarked Will, who wouldn't know sarcasm if it walked up to him, insulted his mother, and challenged him to a duel. "When Jack was in the Locker, apparently he had hallucinations of himself and an amorous goat, but I am glad that sort of thing isn't happening to you."

Seeing an opening, Norrinton set down his teacup and said in the pleasant tone of voice reserved for the deepest of insults, "Yes, Davy Jones' Locker certainly provides its fair share of entertainment."

Will began twitching and chocking on his tea. "Excuse me, Admiral," he began, "I think we've been over this every day for the last nine and a half years. It is not Davy Jones's Locker anymore! It is Will Turner's Locker! I am the captain of the Dutchman, I shepherd the souls of those who've died at sea to the afterlife, something Davy Jones rarely did at all if I remember correctly, and I am young and handsome, so it is my Locker, not his!"

At which point Beckett coughed, ate a sugar cube, and said, "Well, that does rather explain why things have gone so downhill as of late. Mangy pirates walking around breaking teacups and the like."

Will rounded on him. "Oh no, you're not still on about the bloody teacups, are you?"

"Those were prized teacups that my grandmother gave me as a wedding present!"

Norrington blinked. "Were you ever married, Lord Beckett?"

"That is not the point!" said Beckett more loudly than he should have. Gathering himself, he continued, "although I don't have to tell you that Miss Elizabeth Swann was very interested in me," fondly remembering the time she had admired his maps while brandishing a pistol in his face. Those were the days. Beckett had always been popular with the ladies.

This comment received a glare from both Elizabeth's husband and her erstwhile suitor. After counting to ten, Will said proudly, "she married me, you know."

"Under what authority? A pirate's?" Beckett scoffed. Will shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The diminutive lord had touched a nerve.

"It was in the middle of battle," he said lamely.

"She probably only married you because she thought you were about to die, which, now that I think about it, you did," Norrington pointed out, clearly enjoying causing the young man to squirm.

"It was romantic!" argued Will, while helping himself to a biscuit. Beckett and Norrington gave him despairingly looks that seemed to imply that their favourite part of the story was the part where Will died.

There was a long silence and then Norrington spoke. "She kissed me once you know…"

Will slammed his teacup and saucer down on the table, earning a wince from Lord Beckett. "Would you two stop it already? She married me and she loves me, and" he looked at Norrington, "she's done more than kiss me."

Beckett and Norrington exchanged glances. "Well, that was mature," said Beckett in an undertone. "Yes, let's all compare what bases we got to with Miss Swann why don't we?"

Norrington was smirking as Will's ears turned a brilliant shade of red. "It wasn't a bad kiss, either" he said slowly, dreamily. "Perhaps a little aggressive at times, but overall, I've had worse." He was staring up at the sky, speaking as slowly as possible in order to draw out Will's discomfort.

"Well, I had sex with her! And I am going to again, soon!" Will said, sounding about as mature as a ten-year-old schoolboy on a caffeine high. Beckett and Norrington both shuddered visibly at the thought.

"Turner, that was really more information than we needed," said Norrington. Beckett, who looked as though he were preparing to speak, seemed to reconsider and shut his mouth.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading our odd work. Reviews are always appreciated

Coming up next time: Will goes off to visit Elizabeth, and Beckett and Norrington have Governor Swann 'round for tea and the East India Trading Company is questions, much to Beckett's displeasure. Davy Jones drops by.