The Life I Was Doomed To

What a Match

Another little scene that just came to me. Takes place between the first and the second one.

Wearily, Commodore James Norrington entered the front door of his home. His maid met him at the door, taking his hat and gloves and welcoming him back after his long day at the fort.

"Commodore Norrington?" a soft, feminine voice called, followed by quiet footsteps in the hall. The commodore's frowning, tired features softened upon hearing the voice. Moments later, Miss _ swept into the foyer, wearing her new cream and pale blue dress. Two weeks ago, she had told him her story, and he believed her, convincing Governor Swann to release her into his custody. Officially, she was still a prisoner of Port Royal, but to him, she was his guest.

As soon as she laid eyes on him, she gasped. "What happened to you, Commodore?"

"It's just a few scratches," he answered, trying to smile but it came across more like a grimace. Her fingers lightly brushed over the cut on his bruised cheek. A sad look blossomed on her face.

"They tried to escape again, didn't they?"

He knew whom she spoke of without her having to clarify. "Yes," he answered simply, gently taking her hand in his. "Your father's crew has been most persistent in their efforts."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, bowing her head.

"None of that, now," he answered, "You are not responsible for what they do."

"But they're my father's crew..."

"Which does not make them your responsibility," he replied, squeezing her hand. "You're not one of them, remember?"

She nodded slowly, giving a thin smile. She raised her eyes and took in his battered face and hands. "Come with me," she murmured.
She led him to the sitting room and had him sit in a chair near the fireplace. She left but returned minutes later with a bowl of water, a rag, and bandaging cloth. Kneeling in front of him, she carefully cleaned the cuts on his face and hands. Then, she pointed to his arm. "Take it off."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, surprise.

She motioned to his uniform. "The coat. Take it off."

"Bu-"

"I know you have an injury on your arm, Commodore," she sighed in exasperation. "Your maids might have missed it, but I did not."

"Very well," he acquiesced and removed his uniform coat. While the gash and bloodstain hid well in the dark blue of the coat, it could not be missed on the snowy white of his shirt. There was a six-inches long cut down the length of his forearm. At the sight of it, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before beginning to clean it gingerly.

"Thankfully, it does not look deep enough to need stitches, sir," she murmured.

"Well, that is a blessing," he answered softly with a small smile.

She was so focused on her task, that she did not see the faint color rising in his face at her touch. However, Groves did see it.

Lt. Groves knew that his commanding officer had been injured in the altercation that afternoon in the prisoner's attempted escape and knew that Norrington had not received any medical treatment at the fort. Having been friends with the commodore for years, Groves wanted to be sure Norrington was alright, so he had come to check on him.

He had been surprised when he found Norrington and his "guest" together in the sitting room, but his lips turned upward in a smirk as he watched Miss _ gently tending Norrington's wounds, and the commodore blushing faintly at her attentions.

A British Navy commodore and a pirate's daughter, Groves thought with a chuckle as he slipped away and returned to the fort. What a match that would be.