Norrington's Darling

The Locker

POV: James Norrington

Monotonous days greeted me. A steel grey sky was what I woke to my first morning aboard the Dutchman. I wasn't anxious to join the undead crew in their work, but Beckett had already warned me—if I was not the perfect specimen of marine, he would remove me from my position. Not that I cared about the position anymore—but I could see how Zuri would look at me, her face a mix of sympathy and disappointment. And I had always been the perfect marine. I could keep playing the part.

Overseeing the dead was not a task I enjoyed. I discovered that they were grim and disgusting but no better than men who walked the earth as living beings. They spent their free time gambling years on the Dutchman and quaking in fear whenever Jones was displeased. I didn't have to intimidate them much—their captain did a wonderful job of that. With his heart on board, his emotions were out of balance, scaring his crew.

Slow days went by. By the end of three, I felt like it had been a month. Glancing out to the horizon whenever I could, I thought of my dear wife. How was she faring, down in the Locker? Had she found Jack? Would she come back to me? When would she come back to me?

Wonderful questions I couldn't answer.

POV: Zuri Norrington

I hated the Locker.

It was unnatural. The sea spray was like sand. The air was dry and hot, worse than any summer sun at the equator. It was as if I could feel Jones' malicious hate circling us.

Worse was the steady pulse no one but Tia or I could feel. A heartbeat—Jones' heartbeat—pulsed at the heart of the Locker. Tremors shook waters, but no one else saw the little waves. No one else felt the beat beneath their feet.

Had I not known Tia, I would have called it witchcraft. Now I called it death and hate.

Elizabeth bumped into me from where I stared pensively out to sea, pushed by a crew member. When I realized it was she who'd knocked into me, I recoiled. A bitter taste filled my mouth, the snake of revenge curling in my stomach. 

It was a miracle I hadn't killed her on that spit of beach we'd found Jack on. When he'd revealed she had killed him, chained him to the Pearl, I'd almost killed her with nothing but my hands and rage. It had taken Jack, Tia, Gibbs, and Barbossa's strength combined to haul me back from her. I had noticed Will hadn't moved to stop me or defend Elizabeth.

Guilt limned her posture and her expression. But I couldn't bring that angry thirst for revenge down to a simmer. She was the reason my brother had been taken from me. 

Orders came from Barbossa: "Trim that sail!"

"TRIM THAT SAIL!" Jack yelled louder, trying to overpower Barbossa. They'd been doing this for hours. Tia, Gibbs, and I shared an exasperated look.

"Slack windward brace and sheets!"

"SLACK WINDWARD BRACE AND SHEETS!"

"Haul that pallet line!"

"HAUL THAT PALLET LINE!"

Barbossa spun to face Jack. "What are you doing?"

Jack gave him a look. "What are you doing?"

"No, what ARE you doing?"

"What are YOU doing?!"

"No, what ARE you doing?!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING—? Captain gives orders on the ship!"

Barbossa glared at him. "The captain is givin' orders!"