Current mood:	chipper
Current music:	"Police & Thieves" - the Clash

Fic: "Atonement" (Norrington/Sparrow, PG)
It's been done before, but I decided to do it again. Yes, it's Sparrington prisonbreak fiction.

And, yes, I have no doubt that this will be obsolete the very second "Pirates" 3 comes out. But I cannot bring myself to care.



Title: Atonement
Rating: PG, I guess
Pairing: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow, if you pay attention
Summary: Jack receives an unexpected visitor in the East India Trading Company's prison.
Spoilers/Warnings: This concerns itself with characters and events from "Dead Man's Chest." So you know what that means.

My copious thanks to falasama for the tolerant beta.


It was the sound of footfall in the corridor that roused Jack from his restless sleep. He leaned against the wall, cheek pressed to the rough stone, eyes half-open, following the progress of those heavy footsteps with a keen ear.

“If you please,” came the order from beyond his door. There was a moment’s hesitation, followed by the sweet clamor of keys jingling that, despite his best efforts, made Jack’s heart leap hopefully. He arranged himself in a position of lazy comfort so perfect that his visitor might believe Jack wasn’t, in fact, chained to the wall. Whatever complaints he might have about them, it could not be denied that the East India Trading Company took no shortcuts in securing their goods.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected to see when the heavy oak door swung back, but it certainly wasn’t James Norrington in full dress uniform, that singularly ridiculous feather-lined hat back atop his white-wigged head.

At Norrington’s nod, the guard, a young, hesitant sort of fellow, closed the door behind him, and Jack heard him lock it once more.

“Ah, Commodore,” Jack said with a wry grin. “It is Commodore again, is it not?”

“It is.”

“You look well . . . And I must say, you smell much better than you did when last we met. Seems your circumstances have greatly improved. Can’t be said for us all,” he said, with a magnanimous gesture to his dismal, little cell. “One would think a man what’d escaped the belly of a prodigious sea monster and fought his way back from the ends of the earth might be qualified for some kind of medal—or at least a turn of good luck.” Jack sighed. “But it wouldn’t be sporting of me to fault you for your little subterfuge. You done what’s right by you, can’t ask more of a man that that, I’ve always said. You have my most heartfelt congratulations.” Jack put his hands together in that pious way he had, causing his chains to clatter maliciously. “I trust you’ve found the end to be worthy of the means?”

A silence stretched out between them. Norrington’s expression was cold and careless. Jack steeled himself for another one of those sanctimonious pre-hanging speeches about the sins of the father, just desserts, and other such tedious things.

“Listen closely, Sparrow,” he said in a low voice. “In a moment, I’m going to call for the guard, and when he opens the door, I shall knock him down. You’ll have a chance to make your escape.”

Jack had to admit, he was pleasantly surprised. “You sure you want to be doing that, mate?”

“The nearest exit is up the stairs and to your left,” the man continued, as if Jack had not spoken. “There is a detail of at least ten men outside. You would do best to avoid them altogether. Do I make myself understood?”

“I’m the picture of comprehension.”

Norrington’s lips twitched slightly. “And I’ll thank you to leave me unconscious.”

“I aim to please,” Jack replied with a courteous flourish that was only somewhat hampered by his shackles.

Norrington nodded once, and, lifting his voice, said, “Enjoy your walk to the gallows, Sparrow.” Then he called out to the guard, and when the door was eased open, Norrington’s fist darted out and knocked the lad off his feet.

The two of them spared a moment to marvel at the insensible body of the guard. “Admirably done, Jim,” Jack said.

“Thank you,” Norrington replied dryly. He then leaned over the lad and liberated the heavy key ring that was strapped to his belt. This he tossed to Jack, who caught it with a twist of his wrist.

“Not that I see fit to argue, understand,” he said as he tried each key in turn on his manacles, “but an outpouring of good will of this magnitude does leave a fellow wondering what would drive a promising gentleman such as yourself to commit this grievous act.”

Norrington ‘s long silence caused Jack to pause in his work. The man’s face was carefully still as he replied, “I have seen for myself what sort of man Lord Cutler Beckett is . . . He is the most despicable of tyrants—a small, craven beast of a man.”

Jack tipped his head to the side, considering the dark condemnation in Norrington’s voice. He couldn’t help but wonder just how closely Norrington had got acquainted with Beckett. “Harsh words, mate. I thought you generally reserved such censure for the likes of pirates.”

Norrington didn’t acknowledge the jibe. He merely looked stonily forward and said, “Beckett has been winning his hands for far too long. He doesn’t deserve this prize.”

“Prize, am I?” Jack mused. He could see Norrington’s muscles go tense under the heavy cloth of his uniform.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sparrow,” Norrington replied in a hoarse whisper.

He found the appropriate key at last, and freed himself from his manacles, stepping gratefully away from the wall to which he’d been chained. “That’ll about do it,” he said, tucking the keys into his the breast pocket of his coat. He rubbed his wrists appreciatively for a moment, looking down the dim hallway, considering his next move.

Norrington unbuckled his sword belt and placed it in Jack’s hands. “You’ll be needing this.” It was heavy and Jack’s palms itched to unsheathe the blade and try it. Before Jack could utter a word of thanks, Norrington said, “Now hit me and be done with it.”

“Ah, but not before you’ve answered my question, Commodore.” Jack smiled and closed the distance between the two of them, enjoying the way the man’s lips trembled as he drew a breath. “Why save a wretch like me?”

When Norrington met his gaze, Jack felt a chill go down his spine. The man’s eyes were bright and clear and searched Jack’s face with some inscrutable urgency as he said, “Consider it the promise of redemption.”

Jack smiled. “Ta,” he said, and slammed the hilt of the sword against Norrington’s temple. His body spun as it crumpled to the ground, and Jack stepped delicately past before hurrying down the corridor.




To the sequel, "The Crux of the Matter".