Norrington's Darling

A Past I Never Wanted

POV: Zuri Sparrow

The moment I saw Beckett, bile built up in my throat and I wanted to scream. Memories washed over me and I made myself focus on James. James, who was always there. James, who got flustered when he talked about me. James, who had given up his pride for me. James, who had lost his commission by saving my brother's life. James, who had kept me alive. James, who had persuaded this very man to keep me alive upon Jack running off.

But memories took hold of me, slipping through my mind and making my stomach churn.

Beckett, who I'd once called Cutler, laughing with me. 

Cutler's mouth twitching in a genuine smile—not a smirk, not a false mask—for the first time since I'd met him.

Cutler rolling his eyes at my brother as he tripped over a bucket, making me bury my face in my hands, laughter shaking my body.

Jealousy ripping through me as Cutler kissed the hand of a noblewoman, followed by fear, confusion, anger, and anxiety.

Cutler dumping a bucket of water on my head.

Cutler watching me as I waded out into the ocean for the first time in months.

My eyes meeting the icy blue of Cutler's, searching for an answer, searching for what my heart wanted, finding emotions mirrored.

A particular memory tried to push into my mind, a ghost touch accompanying it. I pushed the memory out of my brain and fought bile, anger at myself consuming every rational thought in my brain. 

But underneath the anger, a sensation I'd felt as a young and naive fool tried once again to take root, burrowing deep into the empty hollows the old roots I'd been so sure I'd burned away.

"Oh. Well, well, well," he said quickly. "What have we here? Zuri Sparrow."

"Hello, Beckett."

"It's lord now, actu—nevermind," he said with a heavy sigh. It seemed as though he'd ignored that I had resorted to his last name, dissing the familiarity we'd once shared.

"I really don't care what your title is, Beckett. Our...complex history...keeps me from being overawed." The venom in my voice surprised me. It seemed that my mind was slowly remembering how to react to Beckett. "All I care about is you helping James get his life back."

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Well, well... 'James,' hmm?" He smirked. "Dating, I presume?"

I kept my face impassive, showing not a sign. I noted the hunger in Beckett's eyes and saved it in my mind for later. Beckett's eyes flicked to James in the same moment and he caught something in my beloved's expression.

"You go for those in the higher up, hmm?" Beckett asked. Then he smirked at James and all his dirt, all the torn clothing, all the stringy hair, all the stubble. "Well, you used to." James glared at him, his jaw clenching briefly.

My nostrils flared angrily and I took a step closer to both James and Beckett, a vile insult I'd picked up from my brother on my tongue.

Beckett cleared his throat before I could spit out the insult. "Honestly, I half expected you to be calling him 'Norrie.'" Beckett's smirk made a memory, fuzzy at the edges with the heavy taste of spiced rum and the smell of Beckett's favorite brandy.

I pushed on, snorting. "'Norrie.'" I rolled my eyes. "What do you take us for, children?"

Beckett smirked. "Well—"

"Don't answer that," James said quickly, seeming to sense my tensing muscles, "if you value your life."

Wisely, Beckett shut his mouth. Then he looked James up and down again. "Yes, I am aware of Zuri's formidable temper and the way she gets revenge. We have a history."