A/N: This is rated Mature and not what I tend to write. I would appreciate your feedback to see if this is IC or any good. Cheers, mates. :) It started out as a oneshot but has become a longer story. James/OC. Enjoy! ~Damsel x

Fall From Grace

It was Grace who opened the door. Her expression was quickly marshalled into a smile but the initial shock at his sudden, worn appearance was evident in the parting of her lips and widening of her eyes. Former Commodore James Norrington could not look into the familiar face and pushed past the girl with unusual force.

'Sir.' Her voice was breathless.

She rallied enough to reach for his coat but he shrugged it off without her help. As he hung it roughly on the rack, she stared at him with eyes wide as a deer's. Without a word to her, he made for the stairs, turning his face away to hide any expression of shame. Alone in the hall, Grace could think of nothing to do but follow him. She reached the landing to find him dragging his heavy travelling case out from a cupboard, hands trembling with suppressed anger.

'Sir?'

James pushed past her with it, not meeting her eyes. He entered his study, hurling books into the case with uncharacteristic violence. Kicking a chair out of the way, he reached his desk and took out a drawer, upturning the contents into his case. He dropped the drawer back onto the desk and reached for a pile of paper but they slipped from his searching hand and cascaded to the floor. He swore loudly.

'Sir!'

Grace's cry seemed to sap the destructive energy from James and he froze, hands braced on the edge of the desk, his shoulders shaking with repressed tension. Grace's breathing was rapid and she hesitated in the doorway, afraid to approach the man. He stared at the top of the desk, eyes boring into the wood, before turning his penetrating gaze on Grace. She flinched at what she saw there.

'I am leaving Port Royal.' James' voice was hoarse. He paused. 'Tell everyone else, although they will hear the whole story from someone else soon, I should not wonder.'

Grace's open face broke into a frown of incomprehension. 'You only this morning returned,' she began.

'You will find out why soon enough,' he told her with a snarl.

Grace had never heard such rancour in the man's voice and she could think of no reply. James' shoulders sagged when he saw the shock in her eyes.

'The hurricane,' he said, almost imploringly, but she as yet did not know what he meant. 'I am sorry, I must leave.'

James turned back to his case but Grace sprang forward and closed it. Her eyes were overbright but her chin was set and she stared, brown eyes into green, with her face inches from his.

'What about everyone else?' she demanded.

James stared openly at her face, where shock and anger had flushed her cheeks pink and added the sparkle of tears to her eyelashes. He thought she looked intense and brilliant. Without a second thought, he leant across and kissed the girl on the mouth.

She started back, her hand shooting to cover partially parted lips. Strands of her red hair fell out of her tight bun as she moved. James had never seen her hair down before. He looked at her for a long moment, finding not a shadow of regret left in him.

'Sir,' she stammered and he could see the apology forming behind her hand.

He shook his head. 'I have wanted to do that for a long time,' he said simply. 'Something always stopped me.' His laugh was harsh. 'None of that is important now.'

Confusion was evident in Grace's face and she looked like she might bolt for the door to call someone else in the household but she hesitated. There was something in James' eyes, that had not been there when he left to follow the pirate Jack Sparrow, and Grace felt able to do something she would never have dared to before. She reached across the distance between them and stepped close so their bodies touched along their whole length. He felt tense, and solid, and cold, and Grace held him, until after the longest time he relaxed enough to slowly lift his arms to encircle her.

When Grace leant back to look into his face, he stared back squarely and touched her lips with his once more, keeping his eyes open as if to prove everything he did, he did with complete awareness. The case was left forgotten on the floor. They did not break the embrace as they turned, so Grace was between James and the desk, their bodies meeting at the waist. Deliberately James undid the ties at the top of Grace's dress, beneath her neck. She watched his sailor's rough fingers at the delicate ties and reached to help, brushing his hand with hers and feeling them trembling with things long suppressed.

His kisses became more heated. She could feel a knot of tension in his body as he pressed against her and the desperation in his searching touch. Her dress was pulled open at the top, splitting a window from her neck to waist and Grace fumblingly opened James' breeches. James stroked down her breast and stomach, her softness and smoothness lessening the sickening feeling of inflexibility in him and as he lifted her skirts he felt a reckless abandon, like laughing in the face of a hurricane.

Grace gasped as if drowning, clutching at the back of James' shirt as his usual immovability became movement and he moulded himself around her, and inside her. The desk pressed into her back with each thrust and her feet were lifted off the floor. James closed his eyes, the only sense he needed in that moment was touch.

Grace clung to his shoulders as the tension built up inside him, a concentration of feelings, finally released. When the movements eventually stopped, Grace was lowered gently back to earth. James sagged against her, too relaxed to stand. Grace held onto him, while his breathing quietened and gently stroked his hair. Neither of them spoke.

After a while, James straightened. He did up his breeches and smoothed down his shirt. Grace just leant against the desk, her dress gaping, body bare from shoulder to hip. Her skin was pale but dusky in the light, aglow from what had happened. Her lips were still parted slightly, searching for air. James looked at her one last time with a clarity he had not possessed before now and felt not a hint of regret.

He kissed her gently on the forehead and then turned to his case. He picked up the bag and turned to walk from the room. He did not look back.

/