PotC Fic: A Fine Woman and an Honorable Man Make Peace
Title: A Fine Woman and an Honorable Man Make Peace (1/1)
Author:
corrielle
Characters: James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann
Rating: G
Summary: James and Elizabeth have further discussions on the Black Pearl on the way to Isla Cruces.
Author's Note: This is for whensheflies, whose offhand comment about how I should write her a fic gave me the push I needed to get this from my brain to the keyboard.
Few words had passed between them since that first day on board the Pearl. James sometimes wondered if he had been too harsh, but then, he wondered if the circumstances hadn't called for truth to trump politeness. Jack Sparrow was up to something, and Elizabeth Swann was in over her head.
And this time, it wasn't up to him to save her.
It didn't make it any easier for him to watch.
And watch her he did. His eyes followed her while she and Sparrow wandered about the deck, arguing like children, while she paced the length of the ship alone, while she climbed up into the rigging to the hoots and calls of the Pearl's crew. She was sure, deft in her movements, and probably wouldn't appreciate him watching her like a hawk just in case she…
Elizabeth turned suddenly in the rigging, and her eyes met his. It was as if she'd been waiting to catch him at it. "
Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, lowering herself through the ratlines and dropping down onto the deck.
When I look at you, I cannot help but see the life that was almost within my grasp - a promising career, a marriage to a woman who was not only beautiful and well-connected, but intelligent and brave as well. Though you are now perhaps less well-connected, you are still beautiful in your boy's clothes and tricorn hat, and still brave to the point of foolhardiness, and I cannot look away.
He said none of this. Instead, he simply said, "You remind me of what I've lost. Your face is familiar, and so I seek it out."
She leaned against the railing next to him. "Familiar… that's funny. You remember me in hats and dresses, from tea parties and dinners and receptions. That wasn't me."
"I do," James said. He felt the heat rising in his voice, and he did nothing to stop it. "And are you telling me that none of that was you? That every moment of your life before Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal was a lie?"
"No… That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean? Because I like to think that I knew something of the woman who, at one time, I had thought to make my wife," James said. "I certainly showed you enough of myself for you to know who I was, and what I was about."
He should have felt at least a little guilty about the pained look that crossed Elizabeth's face at the mention of their engagement, but all he felt was satisfaction.
"I know you did," she said quietly. "What I meant was… it was easier for you… to be who you are. You were expected to be honorable and brave and loyal… and you are all of those things, so you don't have to pretend. Me? I was expected to be dainty and ladylike and demure… and I am none of those things. So I had to act like I was."
James pointedly picked at the mud encrusted on his tattered navy coat.
"You… still think I'm honorable?" he asked, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"It's just dirt, James," she said, and reached out to brush the loose grime away from his lapel. "Honor is supposed to go a bit deeper than that, isn't it?"
"I thought so once."
"A man without honor would not be keeping watch over a woman who had hurt him," Elizabeth said. "And a man without honor wouldn't feel the loss of it so keenly."
James wanted to protest that he hadn't been watching over her, that he hadn't kept an eye on every man on the crew who glanced her way, that he hadn't been ready with a hand on his sword to jump to her aid if needed. Because he hadn't. Not all the time, at least.
"You really think so?" James said, not sure he liked how very much her good opinion suddenly mattered to him.
"I do," she said. "You're a good man, even if you've forgotten it."
She reached out and took his hand, and James closed his fingers around hers.
"And you are… as always…a fine woman, Elizabeth." He looked down at her boyish clothes. "Even if you've traded in skirts for trousers."
She laughed, and as she did, he knew that something had changed between them. He could look at her now without bitter longing rising up as if to choke him, and when she squeezed his hand before letting go and said, "Good night, James," it had the sound of a thing one friend might say to another.
And, as a man of honor, true friendship was vastly preferable to false dreams.
Author:
corrielle
Characters: James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann
Rating: G
Summary: James and Elizabeth have further discussions on the Black Pearl on the way to Isla Cruces.
Author's Note: This is for whensheflies, whose offhand comment about how I should write her a fic gave me the push I needed to get this from my brain to the keyboard.
Few words had passed between them since that first day on board the Pearl. James sometimes wondered if he had been too harsh, but then, he wondered if the circumstances hadn't called for truth to trump politeness. Jack Sparrow was up to something, and Elizabeth Swann was in over her head.
And this time, it wasn't up to him to save her.
It didn't make it any easier for him to watch.
And watch her he did. His eyes followed her while she and Sparrow wandered about the deck, arguing like children, while she paced the length of the ship alone, while she climbed up into the rigging to the hoots and calls of the Pearl's crew. She was sure, deft in her movements, and probably wouldn't appreciate him watching her like a hawk just in case she…
Elizabeth turned suddenly in the rigging, and her eyes met his. It was as if she'd been waiting to catch him at it. "
Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, lowering herself through the ratlines and dropping down onto the deck.
When I look at you, I cannot help but see the life that was almost within my grasp - a promising career, a marriage to a woman who was not only beautiful and well-connected, but intelligent and brave as well. Though you are now perhaps less well-connected, you are still beautiful in your boy's clothes and tricorn hat, and still brave to the point of foolhardiness, and I cannot look away.
He said none of this. Instead, he simply said, "You remind me of what I've lost. Your face is familiar, and so I seek it out."
She leaned against the railing next to him. "Familiar… that's funny. You remember me in hats and dresses, from tea parties and dinners and receptions. That wasn't me."
"I do," James said. He felt the heat rising in his voice, and he did nothing to stop it. "And are you telling me that none of that was you? That every moment of your life before Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal was a lie?"
"No… That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean? Because I like to think that I knew something of the woman who, at one time, I had thought to make my wife," James said. "I certainly showed you enough of myself for you to know who I was, and what I was about."
He should have felt at least a little guilty about the pained look that crossed Elizabeth's face at the mention of their engagement, but all he felt was satisfaction.
"I know you did," she said quietly. "What I meant was… it was easier for you… to be who you are. You were expected to be honorable and brave and loyal… and you are all of those things, so you don't have to pretend. Me? I was expected to be dainty and ladylike and demure… and I am none of those things. So I had to act like I was."
James pointedly picked at the mud encrusted on his tattered navy coat.
"You… still think I'm honorable?" he asked, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"It's just dirt, James," she said, and reached out to brush the loose grime away from his lapel. "Honor is supposed to go a bit deeper than that, isn't it?"
"I thought so once."
"A man without honor would not be keeping watch over a woman who had hurt him," Elizabeth said. "And a man without honor wouldn't feel the loss of it so keenly."
James wanted to protest that he hadn't been watching over her, that he hadn't kept an eye on every man on the crew who glanced her way, that he hadn't been ready with a hand on his sword to jump to her aid if needed. Because he hadn't. Not all the time, at least.
"You really think so?" James said, not sure he liked how very much her good opinion suddenly mattered to him.
"I do," she said. "You're a good man, even if you've forgotten it."
She reached out and took his hand, and James closed his fingers around hers.
"And you are… as always…a fine woman, Elizabeth." He looked down at her boyish clothes. "Even if you've traded in skirts for trousers."
She laughed, and as she did, he knew that something had changed between them. He could look at her now without bitter longing rising up as if to choke him, and when she squeezed his hand before letting go and said, "Good night, James," it had the sound of a thing one friend might say to another.
And, as a man of honor, true friendship was vastly preferable to false dreams.