Chapter Text
It had been many months since Elizabeth had seen him. But there he was: leaning for his life against a filthy wall inside the tavern in Tortuga. She could not recognize him but for his furrowed eyebrows, when he happened to loll his head back and grimace up toward the heavens (or rather, the hanging candles, which swung from chaos). Angelic. Biting back his own vomit, likely. The rest of this man was so miserable; covered in dirt, like he had just crawled out of the grave for a quick drink. It was hard to see, but she was convinced she could just make out a flash of soiled brocade under the flickering lights. The bottle of rum in his fingers mirrored its drinker: sloshing, threatening to fall to the floor at any moment with a crash. A fight had broken throughout the venue, but it seemed to mean nothing at all to this man.
Back drenched with sweat, Elizabeth shoved her elbows through the chaos, gunning to get a closer view, for she could hardly believe it. The violence was incredible, and the stench of the madness, eye-watering. A wild man, with his hat askew, and his sleeves rolled up and ready for a row, had beat Elizabeth to her target, and would have collided in a rage with the faltering lush against the wall had he not turned away on his heel at the right moment, with recognizable grace. It was James Norrington.
The berserker missed his mark and went right over the railing to the hall below with a yowl. James mustered the rest of his focus and worked to finish his drink. Elizabeth dodged a flying chair and backed herself very near along the wall, inching toward him. She could not look away from his visage, even as bottles broke and teeth scattered all around her. He had started it, too.
Waves of astonishment washed through her again and again - he did not see her, though she was right up beside him. His eyes were closed, in relish of the drink or in total numbness - or perhaps he was faint from feeling these altogether. For a moment in the active fray, Elizabeth wondered upon his dissociated expression, as she always had when they were friends. What is the difference between a totally empty mind and a completely overwhelmed one, really?