Title: Send Me An Angel [ 1/2 ]
Rating: G
Pairing: James Norrington [ Scruffington ] / OC [ Odette Beaumont ]
Warnings: Really lame ending. D:< I don't know any better, dammit.
Summary: No where else to go, but Tortuga. Not exactly the place where he should be going after all - he was once a man who comdemned men like the ones walking the streets of Tortuga. Now he was a wanted man - now on the other side of the tracks. Then again, every cloud has a silver lining.
Notes: First off, I'm going to apologize if I completely throw off Norrington. I have a feeling I bombed with him. But, practice makes perfect so here's just a start.
And, as a bad habit, there's going to be another part to this one. xD So think of it as a ... two shot? xP
- It was remarkable having survived a hurricane of such proportions, escaping without a scratch - only a wounded ego. All because of Sparrow. It had been as if this sudden ... streak of bad luck all started when the pirate showed up in Port Royal. It was obvious that trouble would stir from him, but James had not expected so much of it.
A disgruntled moan and a few staggering steps. Hands fastened on the rat's nest of a wig and dull hat, fierce emerald eyes looked at the town before him.
"A hell hole ..." he muttered before proceeding into the town of gun shots and cat calls.
---
He had tried to look like one of the oh-so many rapscallions around, but that cleary wasn't possibly being attired in the same navy blue coat and white breeches. ( Not actually white ... but still cleaner than anything these other men had one. ) He stuck out, like a sore thumb. It made the load a bit ... worse considering he had tried to make the worn wig look presentable, his once extravagant hat placed a top.
Judging by the laughter from the men that were in a stupor, he looked a fool. Not doubting it, the Ex-commodore pressed on, neglecting ravenous glances sent his way.
Where was he to stay, let alone sleep? Out on the street like a, like a stray dog? His standards would not lower, not even in a place like this. There had to be at least on tavern that could appeal to his taste. He didn't get his hopes though ...
But what hope was left? He was already lower than low.
A roll of his eyes, this misfortune had gotten the best of him already.
Without as much as a second thought, upon passing a fairly drunk and stumbling man, James snatched the half-full bottle in the other's hands. No protest, the man only toppled over, passed out on the street and others meerly walking over him as James went on, a questioning brow quirked.
A tilt of his head, the rim of the bottle brought to slender lips, the amber liquid traveled down his throat, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in it's wake.
This was but the start to an on-going, corroding process.
---
It had just been a mere nag at first, but now it had graduated into a need - a desire. It appeared drowning away ones sorrows was a popular aspect in this town. Be it over a lost love, bet, whatever - any loss was easily taken away by the rush one recieved from a good three or five bottles of rum.
No wonder Sparrow took up the poison.
"Another ... round!" The pause in his voice just a mere hiccup.
He had gotten worse. Way worse in just a months time. The once spotless face was changed by facial hair and dirt smudges. Not to mention his attire had gone to the pig's pen - literally.
"Ye've 'ad enuff. S'best if ya head home, laddie." The bartender spoke with a worried tone, brow furrowed as James took a pointless drink from an empty bottle.
Empty eyes closed in on him and a fist was quick to clench tightly at the scruff of the bartender's shirt. "You sir, have no place in telling me what to do. Do you even know who you're talking to?" His eyes narrowed and he had yet to notice the few figures that began to close in on him and the awkward silence the befell the once rowdy pub.
"James Norrington. Commodore James Norrington." He sneered through clenched teeth before his arms were braced by a pair of men who yanked him from the bartender. With a struggle, he began to kick with his legs, shouting curses that were expected from the mouth of a low-life sailor.
Eyes rolled at the man's struggle and the bartender rounded around the bar to stand infront of James, a disappointed look on his face. "Whatever skeletons ye 'ave in yer closet, ye best take care of them on yer own time - not in me pub. You've caused more trouble than ... than any other man 'ere!"
With a few more curses as two other men came, grabbing his legs and lifting him up, James continued to struggle - body squirming to get away.
"Unhand me! You have no idea who you're dealing with."
He was being taken away, taken to be thrown out for good.
"I'm Commodore! Commodore!"
"Tell tha` te someone who cares," one man spat as the back door was kicked open and he, with the other three, carried James out. With a few heaves, they tossed him aside, smirking at hearing the ever-so-common splash and following squeals and grunts from the pigs.
Getting up onto hands and knees, James stared down into the muck, cringing as he felt said muck slide drip off of the angles of his face.
He was a broken man. Broken in a sense of ... stained glass. Scattered about on the floor, whatever light that hit still showing a beautiful sight to those who knew not the story behind the broken spirit within.
Hands clenching into fists, James punched at the substance beneath him, his blows being absorbed. With curses passing his lips, his actions finally stopped and heavy sobs racked at his frame.
"What have I become ..."
"A changed man. A man that's troubled and sees his only option of escape in a bottle. A man who ... needs help?"
The voice was soft spoken and strung with an evident trace of sympathy as though ... they knew exactly of what was going on. As though they had experianced it as well.
Angling his neck to look at his side, he saw slipper-clad feet and legs of white-stockings. Eyes following the legs upward; a golden skirt, white top, and then emerald eyes that could match his own.
Only, these eyes were alive.
In a trance by said eyes, he brought up his own hand to an extended one, only to instantly draw back with the gunk on his hands.
Still looking upon the face of the young woman, he caught a smile and a shake of a head, shot golden tresses brushing against soft pale skin. "Don't worry, I've touched worsed." With a small laugh, she didn't wait for him to reach out this time. Taking a firm grip on his hand, she pulled him up and didn't let go until he was steady on his feet.
"Y`sure know how to put on a show."
Looking down at his feet in embarassment, he gave a forced chuckle and a nod of his head. "Thank you, Miss--"
"Beaumont. Odette Beaumont. Oddie to a few." Shrugging her shoulders, she moved back and forth on the balls of her heels.
Nodding, James found himself rubbing at his face with his sleeve. What a way to appear to such a ... fine young woman. Hard to find those in Tortuga ...
"Miss Beaumont, what's a woman like you, doing in ... a place like this? Hard to imagine you could possibly make birth here."
Odette seemed to lose her cheerful desposition with the remark, but kept a smile nonetheless. "I can't say, at least not in this alley. Too ... personal, y`see? But, I did my civil duty for the day. I best be getting back to my father."
He had scared her off.
"G`night to ya, Norrington." Bowing her head, she made her way passed him, down the alley.
It was as though speaking to this girl reminded him of the moral's he once had in what seemed to be, a previous life.
"Miss Beaumount, beg my pardon, but ... it's not like a man to let such a young woman walk home alone, at least not at this hour of the night." Whisping around to catch her stop in her tracks, he stayed where he was, waiting for an answer - if any.
"Thank you, but--" She turned back around to face him, a bothered look on her face.
"Miss, please. Think of it as a way of me thanking you more for ... being so kind to me in the present state that I am in."
Biting on her lip, she dropped her gaze from him but nodded her head, reluctantly.
"All right. C`mon then."
---
The Shrieking Banshee.
A pub at the very outskirts of the town.
The pub Odette owned.
"If I would have known such hospitality was present here in your pub, I'd of come here straight off. Better my chances of not changing."
James had learned right off that Odette was a kind soul. He was to take his leave once she opened the door of the pub, but she beckoned him to stay, offering a place to stay - free of charge - along with a warm bath and hot meal.
"Not true, mate." Odette sat across from him at one of the many tables - all the rest empty. She hardly had business, but when she did it was well worth it. "You'd of grown a taste for the rum anyways. It gets to all good men ..."
Again, the cheerful desposition was lowered.
Putting his fork down and swallowing what food he had shoveled into his mouth, James closed his eyes before he spoke.
"It's not my place and you don't have to answer if you don't wish to, Miss, but you seem to understand my story more that one should. You're obviously mature for your age aswell. It would even let me sleep easier if I knew why ..."
He paused, maybe he shouldn't even bring it up. It wasn't like many to go out of their way to help a complete stranger that they knew absolutely nothing about. There had to be insentive behind it.
"If you knew what, Norrington?"
The hell with it.
"If I knew why, that everytime you look at me, you manage to get a hurt look in those eyes of yours."
Laughing, Odette nodded but James was thrown off by her laughter. It wasn't a normal one. It was a nervous laughter used to play it off like everything was okay. He knew that laugh, all to well.
"You remind me of my father. He was once a noble man - just like you. A man my mother was lucky enough to marry. Now, ya see, my father was always out at sea and he decided to let my mother come along - take her to the new world. Bad thing was, she was nine months pregnant with me. While aboard my father's ship, she hit labor. My father made it so we ported in the nearest town. Low and behold, Tortuga came along. Wasn't the best place to have a baby, but ... later on--" She stopped to stand, arms crossing over her chest.
James now felt as though he regretted having her tell him all of this. She was opening up to a stranger ... not exactly the best thing to do.
"--My mother passed away. My father was devasted, I was just a small girl. Yes, he raised me, but like you he took up drinking. It got the best of him and still has him. We never left Tortuga because of it ... and you can imagine the rest. You've lost a lot too, Norrington. I don't want to see another man go down the spiraling downfall my father has ..."
Looking down at his plate of food, James all of a sudden was at a loss of appetite.
With the eerie silence engulfing the pub, Odette pushed back from her seat and stood, right hand rubbing along her left arm - a nervous habit.
Now daring a glance at her, a knot formed in his stomach. "I shouldn't have brought it up ..."
"No. It's fine. Really. Now you know and ... get some rest."
Before he could get another word in, Odette had left, starting up the stairs where all the vacant rooms were located.
to be continued
Community Member
I can't wait for part two!