Snippet Sixteen - Reconciled
Title: The Adamant Snippet Sixteen
Author: namu_chewy
Summary: Letting her go.
Genre: Romance
Characters: James Norrington, Andrew Gillette
Pairings: Gillington
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, I only adapt them for entertainment.
Andrew frowned. Having battled the undead out in the horrifically vast sea it seemed now a little surreal to be back home. He folded the letters addressed to his servants into an envelope and then headed out to meet the others at the Crown.
Everybody was making merry and telling unlookers about their latest adventure. Andrew smiled and joined in, letting the pints warm him when nothing else could. Then he saw her again, and she sneaked over to touch his shoulder, asking him how he had been. The men didn’t seem to care so much, some just smirked knowingly before turning to the man beside him and re-telling them the story of the commodore leading them into battle. He brushed her hand away gently, but not before slipping a gold coin into her palm. She took his shake of the head for a yes, and stopped him when he tumbled out of the house hours later, giddy but sad. A hand pulled him into the alley from the rest of the company, and he felt the roughness of brickwork against his back, the cool air on his skin, then a warmth which enveloped him and made him close his eyes. When he opened them again he found her watching him, and slowly weaved his fingers into her hair, wondering whether he could ever settle for this if nothing else.
~+~
“Do you miss her?”
“Every Englishman misses his country.”
“You said you didn’t miss it so much now."
"No. Because I have you.”
Andrew pushed the voices to one side in his mind and turned his eyes away from the darkening slither of sky, still glowing ever so faintly between the half-drawn curtains of the bedroom window. He pressed his cheek to the softness of her hair, and closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. Fingers stroked softly against his chest, and he felt her shifting to press closer.
“You're being more romantic than usual tonight,” she chuckled lowly.
“You miss it, being away at sea," he murmured into her hair.
"I do hope you are not falling for me," she said teasingly, and he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "As much as I enjoy being fought between officers."
"I'm beginning to suspect you mistress to every man I know," he chuckled, and she slid down to lay her head in his lap.
"Yes, well," she said airily, shifting about to get comfortable, and he adjusted himself to accomodate her better. "Count yourself lucky that I'm in your bed tonight."
"I do hope you are not falling for me," said Andrew with a grin, and she closed her eyes with a snort.
"Falling for just the one is no fun at all," she scoffed. "You should know."
"I'm about to tell you a secret."
"Oh?" she said, with a curious look.
"You're the first I've had in a very long time."
"Hah!"
"You don't believe me?" asked Andrew as she picked herself up into a sit across him.
"Of course not," she said, tugging the edge of her smock (or rather one of his shirts that he had lent her to sleep in) back over one shoulder and narrowing her eyes at him. "You're an officer."
Andrew laughed and folded his arms up behind his head.
"It's true."
"I'm one out of a dozen of port-wives."
"Dear lord, I'm not that rampant!"
"How many."
"That is a man's secret."
"I thought we were sharing secrets," she said with a pout.
"I've said my goodbyes to many a port-wife."
"Is that so?"
"I'm down to just the one now," he said with a jolly grin. "Not as young as I used to be, I'm afraid."
"That's a lie," she snorted, leaning closer to him again upon her arms. "It can't be that good if you haven't been practicing."
Andrew laughed heartily, and she leant back.
"I charge extra for compliments, by the way."
"I never asked for one!"
"Too~ late," she sang.
"Bah," he grunted, grabbing the pillow beside him and tossing it at her. "Your rates are extortionate. I must find myself a new wife, so my pursestrings tell me."
"But not your heartstrings."
"My heartstrings are tired with overplaying," he said playfully still, yet unable to help his thoughts straying to someone he didn't want to think about. She sighed, looking askance and raised her hand to bite at a nail.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"You just reminded me of something a dirty peasant said to me," she muttered around her thumb.
"Aren't you quite used to handling dirty peasants?" he said jokingly, but she looked glumly at him.
"Do I look like a heartless wench to you?"
"He called you heartless? Why would he do that?"
With a sigh she flopped down on the bed and pressed her hands into her face, shaking her head.
"Because he was right, I am heartless, I didn't shed a tear when I heard about George, nor have I since, even though I wonder sometimes why we were never close, but then how could we be, really-"
"Who's George?" he asked, interrupting her tirade. She stopped shaking her head and sighed, looking at him.
"My brother."
"What happened to him?"
"Hung," she said, watching down at her hand as it laid against the creases of the bedsheets. "By the navy."
Andrew's lips parted before he knew the words. A chill descended on him all of a sudden, sending an outbreak of goosepimples all over his skin. The muscles in his throat seized tight, and he shifted uncomfortably in the bed.
"I sell my body for money, but I'm not heartless," she muttered.
"I'm...sorry about your brother," he finally said, a little hesitantly.
"Yes, well," she said with a sigh. "If it wasn't to be at sea, it would be for something foolish."
Andrew felt himself wincing, and was glad for the dimness of the room.
"But listen to me, how can you say I'm not hard-hearted, talking of my brother so off-handedly like that, granted we never got on, but I never would have wanted such a shameful end for him-"
"It is...most unfortunate," uttered Andrew, frowning when he realised he was repeating what James had said.
"In all honesty," she said, laying her head down as though weary against a hand. "I didn't react whatsoever when Willis mentioned George in some idle talk."
Andrew remained silent.
"Him and some mate of his...I didn't look horrified, or say anything on it, no...just laid in his arms not knowing quite how to feel."
He watched the top of her head, wondering if she knew she had laid with a man who was partly responsible for her brother's death.
"Do you believe in God?" she asked, raising her head to look at him.
"I..."
"He punished George because he was a sinner. Now that he's gone, I wonder when it will be my turn to be judged..."
Andrew released a breath he had been holding and ran a hand through his hair as he glanced back at the window.
"I doubt you shall be, not for a very long time..."
For a moment she didn't say anything else, and he looked back to find her laying still with her face against her hand, her body tucked up into a foetal position. He felt unbearably awkward, wrong, and wished he hadn't gone to the Crown to begin with.
"That time you wept...there was something else, but I didn't tell you."
"How do you mean?"
She pulled herself up slowly and looked at him with a face void of expression.
"You were having a bad dream, and kept saying James."
Andrew heard himself snatching in a breath.
"I-"
"You mumbled many things, and I couldn't make sense of it all, but then you said-"
"What?"
"I love you, so much," she said, her staring eyes making him tense up all over. "Stay, James, please...stay."
"My brother," he uttered quickly. "He's young...inexperienced, wants to enlist but I warned him..." he carried on, wetting his lip under her unwavering gaze, and then looking away. "We all want him to stay at home, but he's so headstrong, he won't listen to us, even if we begged..."
He felt her hand on his arm and he almost jumped.
"You're not very good at lying," she said in a hushed voice, and he met her eye, unnerved by the intensity of her stare. His heart began to race, and he wondered if she could see the physical pounding of it in his chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, pulling his arm away from her warily.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said as he started getting out of the bed.
"What is there to tell?" he replied, keeping his face turned away.
"Drew, I know who James is," she said, a little more forceful this time, stopping him in his tracks.
"What?"
"He isn't your brother."
He swallowed and slowly perched against the edge of the bed, eyes glued to the floor.
"What else did you hear me say..."
"That was all."
He raised his eyes at her.
"James is my brother," he said slowly, carefully. She sighed and crossed her arms, looking up at the ceiling. "I can prove it to you."
"If it will keep you from running away this instant," she said, meeting him squarely in the eye. "Knowing you're-"
"What?"
"That you're-"
"If you have something to say, say it!" he demanded, voice defensive, almost angry as he pushed forcefully away from the bed.
"Oh stop it, I'm not judging you!" she cried, moving off the bed and standing up.
"Then what are you trying to say?"
"That I'm not threatening you, or wanting to blackmail you, or whatever it is you are thinking!"
He tried to calm himself, and sat down in the chair next to the window. Running both his hands into his hair, he shook his head and uttered quietly,
"What is it you want."
"Nothing," she said, sounding a little insulted. "I just wanted to say that when I first knew, when I was still holding you 'gainst myself whilst you were crying like a babe, I couldn't feel disgusted enough to leave."
He sighed heavily, but she carried on, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"The more I'm with you I feel as though we're like kindred spirits, you and I. We're not so different, and after they caught George, it made me think...well, just how we're all hiding something away from others, but we can't hide from God."
Andrew lowered his hands and shook his head.
"So what are you saying," he asked quietly, raising his head to look at her. She sighed and stroked the crumpled sheets with a hand, watching the bed.
"I enjoy our time together, and don't see why anything should change...It's comforting, somehow, knowing I'm not the only one damned-"
He snorted abruptly and leant back in the chair.
"You think that's funny?"
"Not at all. I must either laugh or cry," he sighed.
"You can cry on my bosom all you like," she said. "If you'll let me cry on yours."
"What a pair we make," he said quietly. "You could make a fortune out of me..."
"Or I could surprise you as well as myself for being an honest whore."
"Is there such a thing?"
"I guess not...but I'm not heartless."
"Of course not."
They stopped talking, and she fell back against the bed with a heavy sigh.
"Oh George...you always were a fool..." she murmured wistfully.
Andrew closed his eyes and released a sigh himself.
"Aren't we all..."
~+~
William Turner was indeed foolish, thought James as he caught up with the cornered couple of rascals; foolish, but brave in his own way.
“I thought we might have to endure some manner of ill-conceived escape attempt, but not from you,” he said.
“On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency. And this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He’s a pirate!” barked the governor.
“And a good man,” replied Will stubbornly. James lowered his eyes for a second, then regarded both men steadily.
“If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear.”
For a moment James paused as he felt Will’s words like a physical blow. He frowned, more at himself than the troublemakers.
“You forget your place, Turner,” he said lowly, annoyed at the younger man's nobility.
“It’s right here, between you and Jack,” replied Will, and Elizabeth left James's side to stand beside him.
“As is mine,” she said quietly.
“Elizabeth!" stammered the governor. "Lower your weapons. For goodness’ sake put them down!”
James watched the three of them steadily, and slowly realised for the first time with shame as he gazed upon Elizabeth's face, that he had been regarding her as nothing more than a safe ticket to social acceptance. He had forged her, a slight but strong-willed creature, into a make-believe shield behind which he could attempt to hide and forget himself, who he truly was, down to every little sordid detail. And yet, that was his base fabric, it was not something he could ever alter, he thought with a lowering of his eyes. He had to accept that now, even if it had been so mistakenly easy to believe he could somehow get away with being absorbed into the dream comfort of marriage under the approval of a pushy governor. After everything that had happened, each of them had risen to the occasion and proved something of themselves. Elizabeth was no different. She was braver than he ever could be, and watching her now as she stood by the side of the one she truly believed in, truly loved, James knew then, that he could no longer play rival to a prize unworthy of him, and neither could he pretend any longer to compete for a woman who, regardless of his fondness and perhaps mistaken feelings, never quite managed to preoccupy his mind and heart as much as another.
“So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" he asked.
“It is,” she replied in all calmness. James released a great inward sigh, and knew it was time to let go both of Elizabeth and his own cowardly perceptions attached to the socially acceptable and idealised image of her as the most suited domestic partner.
“Well! I’m actually feeling rather good about this,” said Sparrow, leaning towards the governor who quickly turned his face away with a grimace. “I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh? Spiritually…Ecumenically…Grammatically?”
James waited patiently for Jack to finish, feeling suddenly at ease with everything, as though some weight had started gradually easing from his shoulders. But still he prepared himself to apprehend the man, knowing he would attempt to make another escape, thinking them all distracted with his frivolous chit-chat.
"Friends! This is the day that you will always remember as the day that-”
The fool toppled over the battlements and James rushed like the rest of them to the walls.
“Idiot," said that all-too-familiar voice, and James felt his heart skip a beat all of a sudden as he glanced to his side and saw him squinting like the other men against the glare of the waters below. "He has nowhere to go but back to the noose.”
Andrew looked back at him, and James wished then and there that all his thoughts could reach him in the blink of an eye.
“What’s your plan of action? Sir?"
There is so much I would like to tell you right this moment...
“Perhaps," said the governor as he stepped up to his side. "On the rare occasion, pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?”
Somehow the skies seemed suddenly the most beautiful shade he had ever seen. Brighter, even, than on the day of his promotion. Despite the solemnity of his demeanour, inside he wanted to celebrate with a kiss from his most trusted man, but he had to give a few final words to end it all properly.
“Mr. Turner,” he began, turning back to Will.
“I will accept the consequences of my actions,” said the younger man gravely, but he lowered his eyes upon his sword.
“This is a beautiful sword," he said thoughtfully, then met Will squarely in the eye. "I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.” He glanced at Elizabeth, and felt happy at the relief in her eyes. The governor made no protests; perhaps the spirit of the moment could command nothing less than a grudging consent. Whatever happened now between the three, James had no part of any longer, and as he started to walk away he heard someone call for him.
“Commodore! What about Sparrow?”
James turned his head back and met Andrew's eye. Despite himself he felt his lips pulling into the faintest of smiles, unable to contain any longer the blessed feeling of relief coursing through his veins, nor the fresh new freedom with which his heart seemed to beat, almost anew, sometimes giving out those tiny tremors of excitement when their sights should meet.
“Well," he said with a lopsided smile which he had learnt off the other. "I think we can afford to give him one day’s head start.”
~+~
There was no need, thought Andrew, to demand a truce, an explanation, a declaration of love. He couldn't care less if he was second best to Elizabeth Swann so long as James still sought him out and followed after his footsteps. In the bleakest and most hopeless moments of their somewhat ambiguous relationship, Andrew had consoled himself with the thought that he, and he alone, had been the first to claim James's spotless virtue. Married man or not, James's body belonged to him. Perhaps such self-delusion was childish, but he cared not for arguments against it, especially not now, when he could rejoice at James's decision. Stood against the door of James's office, Andrew could not help but become enticed by the way James was slowly undoing his cravat, his eyes meeting his and then lowering almost demurely. Falling for the trap, Andrew came closer.