Norrington's Darling

Uncle Jack

POV: Zuri Norrington

It was less a ship and more a dingy, heading steadily toward Port Royal. My gaze narrowed, searching for any sign of who the ship could possibly belong to. As it inched closer, a dawning sense of recognition pulled at me.

Those sails. I knew those sails.

And that figure in the boat—I knew him, too. 

It was Jack.

I gave a cry, lurching around as if to run to him. But I was only a few weeks from my due date. Running was inadvisable, especially now that Anamaria and Theodore—who had announced their engagement only weeks before—were as overprotective as James might have been over the child. 

"Zuri? What is it?" Anamaria asked, frowning. "Is it the baby?"

"No, it's...it's..." I looked back at the dingy through the window. Could I have been jumping to conclusions? But no, those sails were the same dirty grey canvas on the dingy Jack owned. "It's Jack."

"Jack?" Theodore asked, incredulous. He looked up from where he, Oliver, and Samuel discussed plans for our next voyage, after I gave birth. Though it would be months before we could set sail, they had been excited to begin to plan with the rest of the crew. With Beckett gone, the seas were free. We could go anywhere, do whatever we wished. How James would have loved it.

"I thought Jack was going after the Fountain of Youth," Anamaria said, rising. She joined me at the window. "Did he come all the way from Shipwreck Cove in a dingy?!"

I shook my head. "He was stopping off at Tortuga first. They weren't supposed to go after the Fountain for another few weeks. Judging by that dingy, I'd say Barbossa's done him wrong again."

"One would think Jack would have learned against mutiny by now," Theodore said dryly, joining us. He wrapped an arm around Anamaria's waist. I tried not to be too discomfited by the ghost of James' touch on my hips that came at the sight.

"He never really learns," I admitted. 

"We should be the ones to greet him," Theodore suggested, "rather than the marines."

I nodded my agreement, so he and Anamaria helped me out of the warehouse. "I do have mobility still, you know," I said dryly.

"I am taking no chance," Theodore said sternly. 

"I realize this baby is all we have left of James, Theo," I said kindly, softly. "I am going to be careful."

A few bitter tears blurred Theodore's gaze. "I know," he whispered, "but I can't help it. I feel like I owe him. I survived, he didn't. I ought to help the wife and child he left behind, right?"

"You are helping, Theo," Anamaria said quietly. "Just maybe a bit too much."

I laughed softly. "But James—James would have helped too much, too. I can just imagine it. He'd be there every time I had to stand up. He wouldn't want me to walk, he'd insist on getting me everything I needed. He would carry me if he had to go elsewhere. He'd insist on taking a carriage if we were summoned elsewhere and he wouldn't let me within a foot of a boat."

Theodore tried to laugh. "He'd insist on holding your hand go down the stairs."

"If you do that, Anamaria and I will both kill you."

"He would take you to the sea," Anamaria continued. "He would get you a dog, maybe a cat. He would panic right now, because he has two weeks until he's a father with a child in his arms. And when this little one is born, he'd hold them all the time. And on his hip. And he'd bring them to work."