The rain seemed as thought it would never end.

Norrington stood by the window, watching the storm-swollen waves crash onto the beach. A chilly breeze was sweeping through the house and he wrapped his arms around his body in and attempt to warm himself. Saunders hadn't brought firewood in, the poor man was laid up in bed with swollen joints. Neither Beckett nor Norrington had the heart to disturb him, especially when James was perfectly capable of lighting the fireplace himself.

Norrington smiled in fondness when he thought of the old valet. Saunders had cared for Beckett since childhood and was fiercely devoted to the man. He turned a blind eye to Norrington's suggestive presence in the house, clearly accepting his master's choice in companions. Whenever Beckett would emerge from the bedroom in a slightly better mood, Norrington would find that the old man had prepared some of his favourite foods at the next meal.

They both had a soft spot for the lost cause known as Cutler Beckett.

Norrington glanced around the parlour, wincing at the flowered wallpaper that so perfectly matched the horrible upholstery. He was sure that it was the latest from London, but the sheer ugliness mad him a bit ill. Norrington couldn't help but think of what Gillette would have said about it.

"Those are pansies James."

"I know Armand, I know."

"PANSIES! He's a bachelor and yet he decorates his home with pansies!"

"So I observed."

"And he's probably the sort of swot who makes fun of the French for being feminine."

It should have perhaps disturbed him that his imagination was mixing with his memory. Without the dullness that came from a bottle of rum, James was free to feel the loss of the closest friends. He glared at the wallpaper, as though it was its fault for bringing up thoughts of Gillette.

"For God's sake James, it's only wallpaper. It won't bite if you don't provoke it."

Cutler stood behind him, looking irritable after a day of dealing with the " idiocy of the anarchy-minded peons" under the employ of the Company.

"You never know with pansies."

The other man shrugged and removed his hat, flinging it across the room.

"Rough day?"

"Quite."

A moment of silence and James returned to studying the pansies.

"You know what pansies stand for."

"They are symbol of free thinking, from the French pensée, or thought."

"True. I was thinking of something else however."

"If you are reffering to their connection with effeminent males then I will have to hurt you."

Norrington smiled and was rewarded with a quick upturn of Becektt's mouth. James walked closer to his companion, and gave him a once-over. The smaller man still looked exhausted and tense. On an impulse, James embraced him fiercly. Cutler patted his back awkwardly before pulling away.

"Shall we see what we can find in the kitchen without bothering poor Saunders then?"

Beckett took hold of James' hand to lead him out of the parlour.

James knew how to get to the kitchen. Neither wanted to admit that the contact was comforting.