Disclaimer: As with everyone else, I do not own any characters from Pirates of the Caribbean. Shame.

Chapter One: Questions

James Norrington was having what was quite possibly the worst day of his life. Even worse than the day Sparrow escaped and Elizabeth chose William Turner over him. Not that Sparrow escaping had necessarily been a bad thing – he hadn't attacked any British ships since, and neither could he have kept Elizabeth in a loveless marriage, even if he did love her.

James managed keep his battered, bloody and bruised body upright and stagger to a deserted back alley close to the building he'd been unceremoniously thrown out of. Leaning heavily against the wall he let go of what little control he had over his body and mercifully welcomed the darkness, his last thought being to curse that stupid, naive Lieutenant.

8888

"'Ere mate, you all right?" The voice broke unnaturally loud into the blackness, lifting James groaning back to the edge of consciousness.

"Honestly", another voice broke in, "does he look alright?" The voices sounded so far away to James it seemed to him as if they were at the bottom of a well. He cracked his eyes open a little in an attempt to see the owners of the voices but the effort was too much and all he glimpsed was a flash of gold before his eyes drooped closed again.

"Come on," the first voice said again, "we can't leave him here, it's not safe. Get the other side o 'im. Let's see if he can make it back te the ship." James felt two pairs of hand haul him to his feet and arms supporting him either side. Unfortunately, the few steps he managed to take drained him of the last of his energy.

"Quick – grab 'im. He's goin' again..."

8888

James came round slowly, his head throbbing and his whole body aching – hardly surprising when he remembered what had happened over the past couple of days. As he became more aware of his surroundings though, he realised the various wounds he'd obtained had been cleaned and bandaged and oddly enough, his right arm felt numb. James felt glad at that; it meant he didn't have to think about it and what lay under the bandage.

James suddenly noticed he was on a ship He was so used to the rocking motion of a ship he hadn't realised, hadn't even paid attention to the reflection of sunlight onto the cabin's ceiling. He craned his head to see where he was, wincing when that only served to remind him that his head hurt. That movement brought fresh pain in his cheek, which on inspection turned out to be a gash that had had to have been stitched up. He tried to sit up in the bed, the sheet sliding over his bruised ribs. If he was in a bed that must mean he was in the Captain's cabin, the only one on a ship privileged to have one. But whose cabin and ship?

"Ah. So ye're finally awake. Took ye time." The voice came from the other end of the table in the cabin, where the shadows hid the figure sat there. A chair creaked loudly as the occupant shifted their weight.

"Who are you?" James strained to see the outline of the man sat there.

"We'll get te that. In the meantime, there's a few things I'm curious about if ye wouldn't mind answerin" the man continued.

"Well then. That will depend on what exactly you're wanting to know" James countered. Whoever this man was, it almost felt as if he were playing a game with him. The man outright laughed before he answered.

"Be grateful. Anyway, ye're lucky I found ye mate. Not many people around who'd help an unconscious dumped in a muddy back alley. Most'd just rob ye an' leave ye, but then," the man paused at this point as if for dramatic effect, "Ye've got that interestin' mark on ye arm. Is there a story behind it?"

James felt a flash of anger flare up from within at this mention of his arm. Logic broke through the fury though. This man could be simply curious as to how he had been injured; on the other hand he could be attempting to discover whether the man now in his 'possession' was worth anything. James was not yet sure whether he was going to escape from this situation.

"I'd prefer not to talk about that" James replied coolly.

"Alright, alright. No need te use that fancy upper class tone on me, Commodore." James felt a stab of alarm.

"I've no idea who you're talking about. You must be mistaking

me-" James attempted to deny, but was cut off.

"I don't mistake people, not when I've met them before, Norringtion." So this man even knew his name. James felt as if he might as well give up now. There was no point continuing with his business out here if this stranger knew his name and had, as of this point, shown no interest in keeping it a secret.

"Come now. Lost for words? I hope whatever ye were doin' out here ye disguised that fancy accent o' yours. Not get far out here with an accent like that." This apparently warranted a laugh, a sentiment James didn't share. Oddly enough, the voice did seem familiar- like that belonging to a person you hadn't seen in a while. Still, James couldn't place it despite the claim they'd already met. Or maybe the last few days were getting to him, hardly a surprise.

"As of the moment," James said, "it's really none of your business what I'm doing 'out here'."

"Again with the tone. I told ye Commodore, no need to get like that. Anyway, ye're on my ship, aren't ye? Means I've made it my business, and if under it all ye were really after me, then I'm surprised, Commodore. After all, I'm reliably informed that me 'one day's head start' passed a while back now."

James didn't need the shadowy figure to lean forward into the sunlight to now who his 'benefactor' was now. Captain Jack Sparrow. That at least answered the question of which ship – the Black Pearl.