the Dalaverse

::blinks:: Um, I didn't mean to write this? But I was rereading Time It Was and suddenly Will and James were saying their goodbyes. Short and simple; I imagine it's about five years before he runs into Tia Dalma. I hope James writes.



Parting Glance



Will had spent an hour combing the port for just the right bottle of brandy. James hadn’t said anything definite, not since he had first begun to talk about retirement, but Will wasn't blind – not yet, anyway. There was something in the works.

When he knocked on the cabin door, he saw James jump from where he was bent over the desk. He waved Will inside with apprehension clearly written on his face. Shutting the door behind him, Will took a moment to steel himself against the hurt this would cause them both.

“Is that paper you’ve just signed what I think it is?” His voice was light as he came over to lean against the desk, presenting the brandy with a flourish. He rested his hand on James’ shoulder, as much because he was tired as to imply his support.

“Thank you,” said James, reaching for his spectacles so he could read the label and thus avoiding looking at Will as he answered the question. “It is. Stephen Watson will be here in the morning to sign it as well, and then the Naiad is his.” He wet his lips before continuing quietly, “And I’ll be catching the next boat home to England.”

Will reached down to run his finger over the familiar spidery signature. He had always envied James’ impeccable penmanship. Elizabeth was the only other person he’d known who could write so elegantly, though she couldn't spell for love or money. Jack's scrawl had been totally illegible to anyone but himself.

“If you leave by the end of the month, it will be January when you arrive.” He smiled, and James flicked his eyes sideways to see it. “How will you handle the cold after all this time?”

Some of the tension drained from James’ muscles and his eyes were fond. “I’m rather looking forward to it, actually. I’ve forgotten what snow feels like. And even the chill will be worth walking through London again – seeing how my nieces and nephews have grown up, meeting their children who have taken up the family name.”

Will made a noncommital noise, unable to claim any such connections but glad that James could. The life of a country gentleman would not have suited him twenty years ago or even ten, when he’d finally found his footing in common merchant sailing. But somehow it seemed right, now, to imagine him in a sunny garden with a child on his knee, rapt at tales of the exotic Caribbean. Will liked that one of them would have that ending, especially when he dared to think of Charlotte.

“You aren’t coming, are you?” The words formed a question, but came out a statement. James was still looking down at the deed of sale. Will’s fingers tightened on his shoulder, and he reached up to cover them with his own.

“It hasn’t been home to me since the day I sailed. I’m sorry.” Much as Will meant it, he’d always believed their paths would diverge once more. Perhaps he had remained with James so long partly because he knew it was bound to end. Still, goodbyes were never easy even when you knew they were coming, and in truth he loved James as much as he was capable of now.

James sighed, leaning his head back as Will stepped around behind him. “I expected as much.” The sadness in the other man’s voice made him seek the comfort of familiar touch and scent. Will dropped his face into James’ hair, grayer with each passing year but as rich and thick as it had ever been. Will’s own hair was thinning more than he’d like, though James always lied and said he looked like a boy still.

“James – this isn’t for the company, believe me. I will miss you very much.” James knew this, of course, but it would ease his heart to hear it aloud. Will intended to say it, one way or another, until the hour he departed. “But what I’ve left in these waters…I don’t think that burden will travel.”

And that was grief in itself – when James was gone, there would be no one to share the memories. Will would be alone. He could bear it, he knew, but he granted himself the indulgence of mourning Jack and Elizabeth anew, and James along with them.

“I understand,” James whispered. His hands came up to grip Will’s forearms and he turned his head to press his lips to Will’s cheek. “This is where you belong, for better or for worse.”

For better, Will thought, holding him close, for just a little bit longer…

Turning in Will’s arms, James cupped the back of his skull and drew him down for a deeper kiss, the sort they shared more often than Will’s younger self would have guessed. There were changes wrought by time, to be sure, but desire stirred in him yet.

James raised one fine eyebrow as he laid his palm on the placket of Will’s breeches. “What do you say to putting the captain to bed on his final night as such?”

“You will always be captain – commodore – to me, James Norrington,” Will murmured against his lips. And friend, and lover – no less dear for being the last.

Wincing at the creak in his knees, James stood up and tugged Will back to the bunk. “How Jack Sparrow would laugh to see us now – two old men fumbling at each other like cabin boys.”

“You’ve never fumbled anything in your life, and I’m nearly nine years younger,” Will replied tartly, lowering himself onto the worn mattress. James stretched out beside him, reaching inside his shirt to find the beat of his heart. “But Jack would laugh, and Elizabeth would smile.”

If he tried, he thought he could remember every one of her smiles. He knew he would remember the smile James gave him now, sad and sweet and full of a life shared even when they had been apart.