How had he gotten to this point?

He couldn't even remember anymore.

All he did remember was the hurricane and the loss of his commission shortly after that. The trip over to this God-forsaken pit of hell was fuzzy… He remembered jumping a few ships but nothing solid. All he did know was that he was a nobody in the middle of Tortuga. He, James Norrington, was sitting amongst pirates and whores.

His father would be ashamed of him.

It had been all Sparrow's fault. That bloody menace had been the cause of all his troubles. From the moment he'd stepped foot in Port Royal, he'd seemed to make it his personal goal to ruin everything the former commodore's life. Of course, Turner hadn't helped matters either what with freeing the pirate in the first place. James still didn't know what had possessed him to let Turner off the hook for that one… or pursue Sparrow right away.

He raised his rum bottle to his lips for a lengthy swig and glance around, noticing a couple of patrons shooting him nasty looks. Well… what was he to expect? He was still wearing his Navy uniform and that was probably one of the worst things he could be wearing. They'd all doubtlessly prefer he be nude instead of wearing the blue coat and tricorn hat with the wig that should be tossed.

There was some sort of commotion by the door. He didn't look up to see what was causing it; there was always something going on. It was better to not get involved with anything these "people" did.

"Excuse me, sir."

The feminine voice nudged him from his… what had he been thinking about again? James turned to see a girl probably not much younger than… Elizabeth… She could have been pretty had it not been for the bloodshot eyes and the kohl that looked to be at least a day old and smudged unflatteringly across her face. The dress she wore looked like everyday wear for someone of respectable status though it was stained with dirt and other things not to mention torn in a few places. He focused his slightly bleary eyes back on her face. She looked tired as though she hadn't slept for days and the remnants of what he assumed to be a mark from a hard slap on her left cheek. Her hair, long and dark with a wave, was in knots.

"What?" he asked in a tone that he hoped would send her away.

"I noticed that you were alone this evening and was wondering if perhaps you would prefer some… company…" she spoke well as he assumed she would and in even measured tones as though she were reciting a prewritten monologue against her will.

"Not particularly," he replied, disinterested in what she was suggesting. She hesitated before drawing a deep breath and laying her hand atop his.

"I am sure that we can come to some sort of understanding…"

He stared at her, into her eyes and realized something.

She was begging him to listen to her.

"What are you proposing?" he asked cautiously.

"Just for a chance to ease your loneliness and line my purse with a few coins," she replied simply, though her eyes told what he needed to know.

"Do you not mean that of your employers?"

She glanced nervously to the side and out of the corner of her eye. He caught that as well and saw the two men standing by the door, watching the girl's progress. His blood boiled.

"I have a room upstairs," was all he said. She offered a tight smile and following him through the drunken mob and up the stairs. He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to where the men who seemed to have some sort of claim on the girl just behind him were standing. They reached his room and went inside. Her hands immediately went to the back of her dress, trying to get at the laces. He reached out, gripping a wrist to stop her. Frightened brown eyes shot to his. There was a moment of silence.

"Do you wish to do it?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"No."

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to pull her hand away, "Then what do you want?"

"I want answers."

"To what?"

"You obviously do not wish to be here… so why are you? Who are those men?"

"I ca-just-let me do this," she stuttered, jerking her arm away.

"Answer me first," he retorted sharply and added after a pause, "Then I will give you what you want." She gave him a look that clearly told him that she didn't wholly trust him. He couldn't blame her.

"Will you answer a question for me first?" she finally asked. He inclined his head hesitantly.

"Did you kill the officer who owned that coat or did you find it?"

That threw him for a loop. He didn't even understand the question at first. It had to float around in his rum-tainted brain for a few minutes before he could answer.

"It is mine. I was in the Navy."

"Don't lie to me," she snapped eyes narrowed into angry slits.

"I wish I were," he sighed, "James Norrington, former commodore of the King's Navy."

"Norrington?" she gasped; he nodded, "There was something about a hurricane and then you went missing."

"Ah no… I lost my commission," he didn't know why he was admitting this to the girl, but it seemed to help with her trusting him.

"I'm sorry," she looked down at her feet, "Port-au-Prince."

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"My home is Port-au-Prince. My name is Victoria."

James bowed his head slightly, "And how would a lady such as yourself come to a place such as this?"

She hesitated, glancing at the door as though she expected something to happen. He followed suite and noticed the shadow under the door. Someone was there… listening… Victoria touched his arm. He looked down at her and saw how she licked her lips as though trying to muster enough courage for something. Taking a steadying breath, he cupped her cheek and kissed her. She squeaked in surprise before realizing what he was doing and relaxing.

Things progressed as things would. He glanced every so often toward the door, but the shadow remained. Eventually, they reached the point of no return although he was caught off guard when he realized that she'd been untouched up to this point.

Damn.

About the only highlight he could think of when he could actually think again was that the shadow under the door was now gone. For that, he was thankful. He had questions that needed answering and she obviously couldn't do it if they were listening.

"Why are you here?"

She seemed caught off guard by his question. Admittedly, the question had been abrupt in delivery, though she must have been expecting it. It wasn't as though he hadn't already asked her.

"There was a raid," she said after a silence, "They knew right where to hit us to make the soldiers useless. Everyone was panicking. I still don't have the slightest as to why they attacked us only that they did and… people died." She trailed off, caught up in memories that she'd more than likely rather forget.

"Are there more?" he asked.

"Kidnapped?" she met his eyes; he nodded, "There were a few others, all young like me. I do not know what happened to them, though I would expect them to be in similar situations."

"And what situation is that?" he knew he was getting close; he just needed her to actually go and say it.

"Being forced to sell myself," she replied dully, "They said that if I don't, they will give me to the crew to what they want with me. This seemed preferable."

"Why?"

"I only have to satisfy one man as opposed to entire crew and I can sort of… pick who I want," she seemed a little embarrassed by that last bit, though he could tell that she was slowly coming to understand what it was that she was doing.

"Why did you choose me?" he asked after a spell of quiet. She hesitated. Had it not been so dark in his room, he would have seen the blush at crept up her cheeks.

"You seemed the most decent of the lot… and you were probably the last to have seen a bath."

He chuckled. She was probably right about that, though it had been quite awhile since he'd been soaked in something not alcohol or sea water. Victoria giggled and inched closer, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Why are you here?" she asked. He didn't want to tell her. She had no right to know anything about him.

Though she had just opened up to him.

"After the hurricane, there was nothing left for me. My life was centered on my commission and when that was eliminated… and to top it off… my fiancé ran off with the blacksmith turned pirate…"

"That must have been awful," she murmured. He didn't reply, didn't want to. What he did want was a bottle of rum to soak away the melancholy that had settled over him.

They must have fallen asleep because the next thing James knew, sunlight was beaming in through the filthy window. Victoria was still there, laying on her side, back facing him. He stayed put, not quite admitting to himself that he liked having her there. Well not her… but definitely having someone next to him. It made him feel no so alone.

It didn't last.

She woke up and dressed. He paid her. She left.