At World's Beginning

"Parlay?"

"You need to be brave, son. There are men out there who are savages, and they want to destroy your entire way of life. They are uncivilized, heathen, thieving, filthy pirates, and when I have gone to a final rest, it is you who will carry on the banner of civility and order, and help the Crown and our allies in the East India Trading Company eradicate their slime from the Seven Seas."

―Lawrence Norrington to his young son, James Norrington

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James made his hundredth circuit around the cell, pacing in agitation as his thoughts ran wild in his head.

What could be happening to her? What was happening to her? What could Beckett possibly want from Ona?

The questions repeated, over and over, but their repetition did not get him any closer to answers. James couldn't even begin to imagine what use she could be to Beckett, but this was the man who had tamed the cursed captain of the Flying Dutchman and now used him to terrorize the whole of the Atlantic.

Beckett's ambition was only limited by his imagination, and whatever he was imagining right now would bode ill for Ona.

And that look on her face... James couldn't get it out of his mind. Why had she looked at him as if he had plunged a knife into her chest? Did Ona truly believe that he had betrayed her to Beckett? Even if he'd wanted to—which he didn't—when would James have made such a bargain?

Perhaps when ye first returned to the Dutchman, mate. Right after ye bashed her on the back of the head. Not that it was your fault, of course.

"Oh, not this again," James moaned aloud.

As far as she knows, ye sold her off in exchange for yer freedom.

"Do I bloody well look free?" he scowled as he hit the wooden pillar with his forearm in frustration. He waited for his arm to smart with pain, but he only felt a distant, muted ache. Everything was becoming like that now, as if only very strong sensations could reach him. It was incredibly disturbing, and he vowed to not check under his sleeves to see if his affliction had spread.

But she doesn't know that, does she? Ye could be sauntering on the deck, bollocks to the wind, and she would have no idea whether or not that be true.

The exasperating voice of not-Sparrow had a point, barring his crude imagery. James felt a mixture of exasperation and dread, wondering what lies Beckett could be filling her head with. Even James, who understood men like Beckett very well, had underestimated his capacity for schemes and subterfuge. After all, he had managed to rope the virtuous William Turner into doing his bidding. What chance did someone like Ona have?

So, are ye gonna sit here for the rest of yer days, feelin' sorry for yerself? Or are ye gonna do somethin' about it?

He hated when not-Sparrow was right, almost as much as he hated when real-Sparrow was right on the few occasions it occurred. But even if James somehow miraculously escaped his cell, fled the Dutchman and found Ona (all very large ifs), would she trust James enough to go with him?

Only one way to know, and that was to escape this damned cell. But no matter how closely James examined the bars, hinges, and lock, he couldn't see a way to break free.

Fortunately, the opportunity presented itself a few hours later. Two sailors, Clanker and Koleniko if he remembered correctly, entered the brig and went directly to his cell door.

Clanker began to unlock the door as Koleniko gave him a nasty smile and said, "Cap'n wants to see ye."

James rose to his feet, looking between the two of them with a silent glare. Before, he would never have been able to take them both in a fight, but now he felt... stronger. More powerful. He didn't want to think too hard about the reason for that, but it might be the advantage he needed.