A · Fair · Wind · and · a · Following · Sea

Andrew has been away for weeks, on patrol. It could not be avoided, as I was most intent on there being no suspicions about the nature of our relationship. I would have gone myself otherwise, but contrived reason enough to stay. I only hope Andrew understood that it was not from any desire to part with him that I did so, for that is far from the truth.

Even now I cannot quite believe that he returns my affections. I had thought myself depraved, diseased for desiring my subordinate, my most intimate friend. To be shown otherwise is a blessing beyond measure.

Now, however, I am in my office, finishing another stack of paperwork and waiting for Andrew to return to me.

Regards,
James Norrington

I must continue describing the events after my night with Andrew. I never knew how hard it would be to act as if he were merely a Lieutenant and a friend when I secretly wished to have him over my desk, or to even have him be the one taking me.

Yes, my desk. I have every confidence that this journal will never be seen, so I can freely write my thoughts over the matter or I will not be able to restrain myself. The lack of restraint on my part to adhere to propriety shocked me. I never knew that, once let free, my brain would be so wholly focused on Andrew and all the wicked things we may do together.

I should be ashamed, but regrettably I am not. 

However, to my credit, I believe I hid my wild emotions well, even from Andrew. Even as he entered the office, looking as handsome if not more so than I'd ever seen him look, I reacted rather well as he came in with food for the midday meal.

Regards,
James Norrington

The day after the dinner and the subsequent activities I shared with Andrew was a long one, and I could easily say that it was one of the harder days I've had recently, made all the more so from the fact that it was not pirates I fought, but my own desires. 

It had taken quite awhile for us to become presentable, and we were nearly late for the usual time I would come to the fort. I'm sure someone noticed, but I let slip that we had been discussing classified tactics. It would not have done to discuss it at the fort where anyone may hear. That put an end to any talk.

It was so much easier to restrain my thoughts and actions around Andrew when I did not think he loved me. Now I held the reminder of propriety and the risk of death if we were to be discovered like a lifeline, hoping that it would prevent myself from calling Lieutenant Gillette to my office in order to accost him against the door. 

I valiantly attempted to keep it all out of my mind, but the necessity of working so closely with my first Lieutenant prevented me from doing so. 

Your servant,
J. Norrington

Andrew Gillette is an exceptional gentleman. He is a wonderful officer and staunch friend. I count myself lucky to know him.

But most of all, Andrew Gillette looks beautiful when he sleeps. 

I should not be writing this. God knows, I should never keep such evidence of our intimacy, but something inside me begs me to write about it. 

Andrew Gillette is my lover. Even as I write it, even as I remember in vivid detail what we did in my own bed, I cannot believe it. I cannot believe he loves me, and that he's said so many times during the course of the weekend. 

This journal is safe enough under a loose floorboard in my bedchamber, so I feel compelled to write more, to put words to paper so that I may remember this weekend as one of the happiest of my life. 

It started with Andrew sleeping, wrapped around me, in my bed. 

Regards,
James Norrington

The past few days have been eventful to say the least. I had written previously that I was expecting Lieutenant Gillette over for dinner, but had not the time to write further of what happened. I will write a bit more now.

The evening was fraught with a tension that I couldn't identify, but everything Andrew and I did was saturated in it. That in itself was entirely my fault. In my zeal of getting to know Andrew better, I started us down a line of conversation that veered quickly into astonishingly personal waters. 

It did not help that Andrew had drunk a little too much brandy too quickly, for it loosened his tongue a great deal. His last toast, that of, "To friendships and heartbreak and men who will never love us back!" left me in shocked silence.

Even then, Andrew giggled, and his only comment was "bloody hell..."

Your servant,
James Norrington

For whatever reason, today seemed both interminably long and incredibly short. There was nothing out of ordinary to have made it so, and I could only conclude that it was Andrew's anticipated visit that evening to my home that caused my anxiety.

Andrew, who has become a dear friend to me, and who was coming to my home that evening. That fact was on my mind all day, and I could not understand why.

For better or worse, the day wore on, and I finally left the fort for home. It is a favored time of the day when I am finally able to take this deuced wig off my head. The Admiralty in making that regulation did not take into consideration the Caribbean heat, and the itching will drive me mad some day.

I digress. The knock on the door caused me to jump. Me, the man who can stand on deck with barely a blink during battle!

I went downstairs to greet him.

Regards,
James Norrington, RN

I have had a long day, full of reports dealing with the whole mess caused by Sparrow's escape. As always, my Lieutenant Gillette has ably helped me whenever possible, but the work is long and tedious despite his help. 

Still, it is a small comfort compared to the pitying glances thrown my way because of my recent failed engagement with the Governor's daughter. I cannot stand the stares and the gossip, and it only serves to remind me of what I do not have. Perhaps I knew that she and I didn't suit, but I had hoped that I was wrong. I had hoped that she would love me, would see past the Commodore to see me. 

Turner is a good lad, perhaps a bit too rash in some areas, but I feel that barring any major problems, he has the potential to center Miss Swann's flighty nature. I must remind Gillette to send him our order for new practice swords. If he is to take on the responsibility of a wife Turner will need the business, and he is a fine swordmaker besides. It is a pity that his master takes the credit for the boy's exemplary work.

Enough of this. I shall write more soon. I suppose I should write of the Black Pearl and the attack on Fort Charles in order for there to be a factual account of what happened. With the wild tales surrounding those pirates, there should be a rational accounting for posterity, though I humble myself by believing any person will be interested in what I have to say. 

I believe that before I retire for th evening,  I will take out my violin and play a few pieces. I have not been able to do so for some time. 

Regards,
James Norrington

1. Title / Prompt: "Of Man and Sea" (Prompt: Sea)
2. Character: James Norrington
3. Warnings (if any.): None
4. Pairings (if any.): Norrington/Sea
5. Your character's fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
6. Word count: 205
7. Rating: PG
8. Disclaimer: If I owned PotC, the sequels might have made sense. 
9. Author's Note: For those who are reading this before I post it on licenseartistic, note that more might be added to it if the mood strikes me. 

I am a busy gentleman, so I feel I must warn anyone who happens upon this journal that my entries may be infrequent. Do not mistake it for abandoning my acquaintances, for it is merely that I must be away from Fort Charles in the pursuit of my duties.

Your servant,
Commdore James Norrington, RN