PotC AU Fic: Unlikely Accord

[corrielle]

Title: Unlikely Accord
Author: corrielle
Characters: Jack, Norrintgon, mention of Gillette and Groves
Summary: During the London Blitz, James Norrington of the Royal Air Force and Jack Sparrow of no air force in particular need to reach an agreement in order to preserve James' sanity and Jack's freedom.
Notes: This was written for the "Alternate Universe" writing challenge at potc_land.  Many thanks to estelofimladris for help with ranks and planes.
Rating: G


Air Commodore James Norrington of the British Royal Air Force had a raging headache. It had started late the night before, minutes after the air raid sirens had come screaming to life and he had rushed to the map room and spent the next hour coordinating his squadron’s portion of the RAF’s defensive response. The current author of his headache, though, was the unkempt fellow who was lounging in the chair on the opposite side of James’ desk.

“You cannot keep doing this, Sparrow,” James said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. It did absolutely nothing to help his head, but it gave him at least the illusion of efficacy.

Sparrow laughed and toyed with one of the beads woven into his dark hair.

“You should be thanking me, Mate,” he said.

“You flew an unidentified aircraft into British airspace while my men were engaging the enemy, and you made it more difficult for my people to do their already very difficult work because they could not be certain of your loyalties,” James said irritably. “Please explain to me why I should be grateful.”

Sparrow grinned as if he had been waiting to be asked the question. “That pilot of yours had that first Messerschmitt well in hand, but I don’t think he was ready for the second. Lucky for him I was there… Just ask him. He seemed grateful enough when we met on the airstrip after your ah… escort forced me down.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I might even say that there was a bit of admiration there… though I don’t think I impressed his gunner much… Irish fellow who looked like he’d just bit into a lemon. Not so much as a ‘by your leave’ from him… And I thought the military was all about forcing manners on a man.”

“This is not about Flight Lieutenants Groves and Gillette,” James said sharply. He was going to have to have a word with Theodore. Jack Sparrow and his maverick airplane were becoming something of a legend even among the officers, and the last thing he needed was Theodore’s silver tongue spreading stories about how Jack had risked life and limb to save him. No matter if it was true. “This is about you and your inability to stay out of my engagements.”

Sparrow arched an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t realize you had a corner on the market, as it were.”

“Don’t be glib. You know what I meant.” James gestured at the door of his office. “I could have you arrested, you know. The two military policemen in the hallway just outside are waiting for my order.”

The flippant bravado that hung about Sparrow like a glamour was gone the instant James mentioned arrest. James had read his file, and he knew the man wouldn’t do well in confinement.

“It seems to me,” Sparrow said, “that the RAF has better things to do than keep watch over one itinerant pilot.”

“I agree,” James said. “That is why I am not going to arrest you.” Sparrow’s relief was palpable. "Instead, I am prepared to offer you a deal. Your unannounced intrusions into our airspace will stop, and…"

"You can't keep me out of the sky, Commodore," Sparrow said, his voice deadly soft. "The Nazis are just as much my enemy as they are yours."

“You didn't let me finish," James said coolly. "It is your unannounced intrusions that are causing chaos. I have authorization here that would allow you to work with me," he pushed a form across his desk in Sparrow's direction.

Sparrow looked at the paper with an expression usually reserved for the bottom of one's shoe after a walk through a pasture.

"I'm not joining the Royal Air Force," he said.

James chuckled. "I am not suggesting that you should. In fact, I wouldn't even think of suggesting such a thing. There's not a single officer who I like so little that I would inflict you upon him. You weren't listening, Sparrow. You would work with me, not for me. You would keep my people apprised of your movements by radio so that you aren't shot down by friendly fire, and in return, you would have carte blanche to participate in such actions as might… benefit from your unorthodox approach. And, as you won't be acting alone, you will be doing more good than you otherwise might have."

Sparrow fingered the scraggly beard that dangled from his chin. "No uniforms," he said at last.

"No," James said.

Sparrow smiled and preened at his battered old flight jacket that might have been new when the first planes went up during the last Great War.

"And my plane? My Pearl?"

"She remains your property, and your responsibility. Anything else?"

Jack mumbled something that sounded like, "The officer's club?"

"I beg your pardon?" James said.

"Do you think, as we are to be such good friends, you could get me in? I've heard you lads still have all kinds of rum that are terribly hard to come by these days…"

"We shall see." The very thought of bringing Sparrow to the club under his supervision made the throbbing behind James' eyes ten times worse. "And barring that, perhaps I could procure some small quantity of rum for you."

"Then we have an accord," Sparrow said, and put out his hand.

James shook it, and as Sparrow rose to leave, James went back to the stack of reports that was neatly piled on the corner of his desk.

"Tell me one thing," Jack said, turning with his hand resting lightly on the doorknob. "What happened to locking me away until the war is over? That seemed to be your mood on the airstrip this morning, and I don't think it was the higher ups that changed your mind for you."

James looked up from his work on last time. "It was something Groves said to me. As we were watching you being hauled off to the brig, he remarked that you were the best pilot he'd ever seen."

"Lad's got a good eye," Sparrow said, and he punctuated his exit with a jaunty wave to James and a flirtatious wink at the two flustered policemen who were stationed outside his office door.

James reached for the bottle of aspirin in his top desk drawer. He had a feeling he was going to need it.