Tempest
Title: Dervish
Author: nelliedances/Miss Ruby Tuesday
Rating: PG
Pairings: Jack/Elizabeth
Warnings: None, really.
Disclaimer: Sure I own it; I also have a great bridge for sale in Brooklyn, if anyone’s interested.
Summary: Just into her journey, the Pearl runs afoul of a tempest. There's a hidden U2 reference in here.
Status: Complete
Several days into her journey, the Pearl runs afoul of a tempest. Elizabeth is the first to notice the growing clouds and strange winds because Jack and Norrington have been bickering all afternoon. James Norrington still thinks himself to be a commodore and tries to tell Jack how to sail his own ship. Inferenced in his griping is how he feels Jack should be treating Elizabeth. Much of it is Norrington's ire is at Will, but Jack, being the only one of them present, takes the brunt of it with uncharacteristic good will.
She is heading for the upper decks as the first roll of thunder echoes over the choppy water. Jack's head snaps up, Norrington forgotten, and his eyes meet Elizabeth's. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he's already rushing down the stairs towards her. He doesn't stop when he reaches her, only grabs her up and pulls her with him, heading towards his quarters.
“Cabin. Now. Gibbs! Helm!” he barks orders in a tone she's never heard before. This new Jack scares her just a little; he's intense and deadly serious. His arms slides off her arm and tangles like seaweed around her waist. He's both drawing her in and hurrying her along. Her heart does a strange flop in her chest as her shoulder collides with his.
He pulls her into his darkening cabin and presses her into the chair in front of his map strewn table. He moves methodically around the cabin lighting his lamps. Behind her, Elizabeth can hear the waves beginning to splash up around the aft windows.
“We have to plot a new course, Elizabeth,” Her full name on his lips startles her. He's right behind her, suddenly, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the maps.
“We?” she squeaks.
“I can't plan it as quickly as I need to by my ownsies. You're the best chance I've got right now to get out out of the reach of the storm.”
“What about James? Or Gibbs?”
“Gibbs is as illiterate as the day is long and James is a fool. Need I remind you sailing through a hurricane caused him to end up here under my watch?” She nods dumbly at him. “Now be a good lass and fetch me the log, so I can get a fix for where we are.”
She hurries to get him the log, as well as a few of the other tools he has lying around. His attitude has her rattled. Jack's normally scattered countenance is focused directly on the map in front of him. She watches at he plots out different courses. She has the sneaking suspicion that she's here not so much to help Jack, but to keep her out of the way on deck. Jack is nodding at a likely course when one of the crew bursts through his door.
“Cap'n, ye must come quick. Thar be a wicked happenin' on deck.”
Jack drops his instruments on the desk and rushes for the door. She wonders if he means to leave her alone in the cabin, but his hand catches hers almost by accident and she's pulled along out onto the deck. The crew is gathered around the mainmast, all staring at the heavens as if they expect to see God's Own Hand reach down from the black, swirling skies. Elizabeth assumes that's what they're watching until she too looks up. To her horror, the tops of the masts are wreathed in an eerie blue glow.
“Mother of God, Jack, what is that?” She shrinks into his side. She feels as if she's seeing a ghost. “Are we on fire?”
“Not fire exactly, darling. That's St. Elmo's fire, there. It's either a good omen or we'll be at the bottom of the sea by dawn. Either way, it'll be a hell of an adventure.” Still, his hand tightens around hers and she can see the tenseness in the corners of his mouth. He looks skyward for only a moment more before again snapping to action.
“No more gawking, you dogs. Step to and unfurl the sails. I want to catch the edge of the tempest and blow us off its course!”
“You're a bloody idiot,” Norrington grumbles. “It would be better to reef the sails and weather it.”
Jack rounds on him, eyes blazing. “Look, James, I'm captain here, not you, and you'd best remember it. You're an experienced sailor and I'd hate to lose you, but if you so much as question how I walk till this storm is past, you'll be overboard. Savvy?”
James glares at him, but is silent. Jack gives him another glower and before Elizabeth can blink, he's off helping Gibbs. The crisis temporarily averted, Jack turns his attention to her.
“Lizzie, I want you to go and stay in my cabin. Stand clear of the books or anything not bolted down because the ship is going to roll.”
“Aren't you going to be there with me?”
He bursts out laughing and she realizes, suddenly, that he sounds completely, utterly mad. “Luv, someone's got to steer!”
“What of Gibbs?”
“If we cannot avoid the storm, we'll reef the sails as the bloody ex-commodore said and I'll send everyone below. I can keep us afloat alone.” Before she can ask him another question, he walks away.
Despite Jack's careful calculations, the storm seems to have different ideas. She follows the Pearl doggedly, despites Jack's furtive attempts to skirt her. He even tries Norrington's suggestion as a last effort. The men are silent as they furl the sails in the face of the forthcoming onslaught. Elizabeth clings to the rail near the ship's wheel to avoid falling as the sea pitches the ship. Gibbs makes his way past her, soaked with the warm, but driving rain.
“Sails are furled, Jack. What d'ye want the men to do now?”
“Send them below. There's no point in losing anyone if we don't have to. Oh, and fetch me a length of rope and a bottle of rum while your doing that.” Gibbs nods and rushes off again, trying not to slip on the decks.
“What do you need the rope for?” Jack looks down at her.
“Christ, Lizabeth, you look like a drowned rat.”
She makes a face. “The rope, Jack.”
“It's high time you head to my cabin and barricade yourself in. This isn't even the worst of it and already, your legs are weak as a foal's.”
Gibbs returns while he's staring her down and hands him the rum and rope. It takes his attention from her and for once, she is glad.
“Blessed Mother be with ye, Jack. Marty's already said half a dozen Hail Mary's fer yer immortal soul.” Jack claps his hand over the elder man's shoulder.
“Did you tell him it will do no good?” Gibbs laughs heartily.
“Aye, I did, but he don't listen anyway. Ye know him and his damn rosaries.” A moment of silence passes between them. “We'll see ye on the opposite side of the storm, Jack.”
“Keep to the code.” As Gibbs makes his way below decks, Jack begins to wind the rope around himself, lashing himself tightly to the helm. Elizabeth watches in growing horror. She, until now, hadn't understood just how dangerous a thing steering the Pearl through the tempest was. Before she has a chance to think, she steps into the slack of the rope he has not yet tightened and wraps her arms around him. He jumps, startled.
“Goddammit, Elizabeth, I told you to get below!” His voice is tinny against the roar of the wind and rain.
“I don't want to be alone!”
“You'd have the crew.”
“I don't want you to be alone.”
“I've done this before and it's no Sunday stroll. Go below!” He's fairly bellowing in her ear.
“I won't!” Her voice is defiant. “You can bind me to you or not, but I will stay here.” She thinks of stamping her foot for emphasis, but decided better.
“You're a damned, bloody stubborn fool, Elizabeth Swann.” But he ties her to him anyway. In the tone of his voice, she can hear the clear note of pride at her loyalty. They will weather the storm together.
She closes her eyes. Her forehead is pressed between his shoulder blades as she tries to keep the stinging rain out of her eyes. The Pearl rolls in stormy seas and the waves are crashing over her sides and bow. Jack has pointed her headlong into the surging waves. Elizabeth considers, momentarily, that she could die like this, at the wheel of a pirate ship. She wonders if the sea would rend her flesh from her bones before the crew emerged from below decks. She also considers that the Pearl could sink and she would be trapped, tied against Jack, at they sank to the fathoms below.
She turns her head slightly so that her ear is pressed against his spine. She can hear the wild tattoo of his heart within his ribs and feel the heat of him against her face. She then considers that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad death. She would die of her own accord, at least. Jack has not said a word to her since they faced the storm head on. She could see his hands, white knucked, against the spokes before she bowed her head. She is certain that Captain Jack Sparrow feels fear as he stares down the howling winds.
She's distracted when the rain softens. She lifts her head to look at the sky, loosening her death grip against on his waist.
“Jack,” she whispers. “The sun is out.”
“Don't get your hopes up, luv,” His voice sounds exhausted. “See how the water is still boiling? It means we're in the eye. We've only made it halfway and the second half will be worse than the first, if only because I'm exhausted.” They enjoy the lull, though, and she takes a moment to nuzzle the back of his neck, resting.
The clouds darken again all too soon, and the wind and rain return. She raises her face to the sky to catch a few drops to moisten her parched mouth when she sees it again: the otherworldly fire ringing the tips of the mast.
“It's there again.” He just nods. He's been leaning against the wheel the whole time they sailed through the eye. She reaches her hand up to brush the sodden hair off his face. “It can't last forever.”
“You've never been to Samoa.” She smiles despite the gravity of the situation and she feels him chuckle. It's only a moment, though, and it's broken when the Pearl rolls hard on her starboard side. Elizabeth screams as she sees the ocean rushing up at them. Jack grunts and wrenches the wheel. She's not sure it does any good, but soon they're thrown back to port.
Her knees are shaking, but she refuses to let them give. She will not be a dead weight on Jack, not when he's done the brunt of the work and is already exhausted. She can feel his muscles quivering, too, and it frightens her more than the storm. She's never seen Jack show fear or weakness and, today, she's seen both.
She finds herself drifting, listening to the pounding water and the cadence of Jack's heartbeat. She can't concentrate on anything else. The storm feels like it's lasting months and all she wants to do is sleep. She's so worn down by their ordeal that she doesn't feel the rain lightening. She only feels Jack's body go slack against the helm. Then, everything goes black.
She only stirs a little when she hears voices. The rope holding her up is cut and her legs finally give way. She crumples to the deck.
“Sweet Jesus,” Norrington's face swims in and out of her vision. “Elizabeth... ELIZABETH!” His hand is shaking her and she'd swat it if she could lift her arms. His voice buzzes like a fly.
She hears Gibbs's voice too, but can't make out the words. She hears other voices, too, but they blend and swirl around her. Tears start rolling down her cheeks and she feels like she can't breathe. She wonders if she died during the tempest.
“Move!” The growled command forces her to open her eyes. The men hovering over her, except for Norrington, part like the sea. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jack dragging himself towards her, pale and exhausted. He shoves Norrington hard and fixes him with a murderous look.
“I said bloody move.” He drops to his knees at her side. “She needs air. We've been to hell and back.” Norrington goes to step forward, but Gibbs lays a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
Jack hauls her rag doll limp body up into his arms, struggling for only a moment before he sways towards his cabin.
“Gibbs, you're in charge. Mr. Cotton, take our former commodore to the brig till he remembers himself.” His voice is so hoarse, Elizabeth hardly recognizes it. He stumbles under her weight as he heads down the stairs, his body shaking with exhaustion.
“And you, my girl, are going to bed.”
She can't even stand when they reach his cabin. He shoves his maps off his desk and sets her down.
“You've got to help me, sweetheart. You need to get out of your clothes. You can't sleep sopping wet.” Her head lolls against his chest.
“Can't.” He huffs and grumbles at her obstinance, but starts to divest her of her soaked clothes anyway.
“It's not like I haven't seen a naked lady before, though I will say I didn't imagine these would quite be the circumstances that I'd be disrobing you under, Miss Swann.” Her lips curve into a little, exhausted smile.
“It was brave thing you did today, luv,” he prattles on, hoping his voice will override the nervousness shaking his hands as he touches her bare skin. “I'm not sure I would have made it without you...”
“Jack...” Her voice is distant.
“Ah, you're right, dearie, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. I would have made it somehow.” He pauses. “You were my safe harbour in the tempest, Elizabeth. Your faith saved us.”
He pulls a dry shirt over her and deposits her into his bed before skinning out of his own clothes and tossing them in a heap with hers. He finds a shirt for himself before crawling in next to her.
“Brave lass.” He cradles her in his arms and sings an Irish lullaby to her that she thinks she might remember her nanny singing once, tracing his fingers over the bruises the storm has left on her. He sings until the words run dry and they are both asleep.
Author: nelliedances/Miss Ruby Tuesday
Rating: PG
Pairings: Jack/Elizabeth
Warnings: None, really.
Disclaimer: Sure I own it; I also have a great bridge for sale in Brooklyn, if anyone’s interested.
Summary: Just into her journey, the Pearl runs afoul of a tempest. There's a hidden U2 reference in here.
Status: Complete
Several days into her journey, the Pearl runs afoul of a tempest. Elizabeth is the first to notice the growing clouds and strange winds because Jack and Norrington have been bickering all afternoon. James Norrington still thinks himself to be a commodore and tries to tell Jack how to sail his own ship. Inferenced in his griping is how he feels Jack should be treating Elizabeth. Much of it is Norrington's ire is at Will, but Jack, being the only one of them present, takes the brunt of it with uncharacteristic good will.
She is heading for the upper decks as the first roll of thunder echoes over the choppy water. Jack's head snaps up, Norrington forgotten, and his eyes meet Elizabeth's. She opens her mouth to tell him, but he's already rushing down the stairs towards her. He doesn't stop when he reaches her, only grabs her up and pulls her with him, heading towards his quarters.
“Cabin. Now. Gibbs! Helm!” he barks orders in a tone she's never heard before. This new Jack scares her just a little; he's intense and deadly serious. His arms slides off her arm and tangles like seaweed around her waist. He's both drawing her in and hurrying her along. Her heart does a strange flop in her chest as her shoulder collides with his.
He pulls her into his darkening cabin and presses her into the chair in front of his map strewn table. He moves methodically around the cabin lighting his lamps. Behind her, Elizabeth can hear the waves beginning to splash up around the aft windows.
“We have to plot a new course, Elizabeth,” Her full name on his lips startles her. He's right behind her, suddenly, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the maps.
“We?” she squeaks.
“I can't plan it as quickly as I need to by my ownsies. You're the best chance I've got right now to get out out of the reach of the storm.”
“What about James? Or Gibbs?”
“Gibbs is as illiterate as the day is long and James is a fool. Need I remind you sailing through a hurricane caused him to end up here under my watch?” She nods dumbly at him. “Now be a good lass and fetch me the log, so I can get a fix for where we are.”
She hurries to get him the log, as well as a few of the other tools he has lying around. His attitude has her rattled. Jack's normally scattered countenance is focused directly on the map in front of him. She watches at he plots out different courses. She has the sneaking suspicion that she's here not so much to help Jack, but to keep her out of the way on deck. Jack is nodding at a likely course when one of the crew bursts through his door.
“Cap'n, ye must come quick. Thar be a wicked happenin' on deck.”
Jack drops his instruments on the desk and rushes for the door. She wonders if he means to leave her alone in the cabin, but his hand catches hers almost by accident and she's pulled along out onto the deck. The crew is gathered around the mainmast, all staring at the heavens as if they expect to see God's Own Hand reach down from the black, swirling skies. Elizabeth assumes that's what they're watching until she too looks up. To her horror, the tops of the masts are wreathed in an eerie blue glow.
“Mother of God, Jack, what is that?” She shrinks into his side. She feels as if she's seeing a ghost. “Are we on fire?”
“Not fire exactly, darling. That's St. Elmo's fire, there. It's either a good omen or we'll be at the bottom of the sea by dawn. Either way, it'll be a hell of an adventure.” Still, his hand tightens around hers and she can see the tenseness in the corners of his mouth. He looks skyward for only a moment more before again snapping to action.
“No more gawking, you dogs. Step to and unfurl the sails. I want to catch the edge of the tempest and blow us off its course!”
“You're a bloody idiot,” Norrington grumbles. “It would be better to reef the sails and weather it.”
Jack rounds on him, eyes blazing. “Look, James, I'm captain here, not you, and you'd best remember it. You're an experienced sailor and I'd hate to lose you, but if you so much as question how I walk till this storm is past, you'll be overboard. Savvy?”
James glares at him, but is silent. Jack gives him another glower and before Elizabeth can blink, he's off helping Gibbs. The crisis temporarily averted, Jack turns his attention to her.
“Lizzie, I want you to go and stay in my cabin. Stand clear of the books or anything not bolted down because the ship is going to roll.”
“Aren't you going to be there with me?”
He bursts out laughing and she realizes, suddenly, that he sounds completely, utterly mad. “Luv, someone's got to steer!”
“What of Gibbs?”
“If we cannot avoid the storm, we'll reef the sails as the bloody ex-commodore said and I'll send everyone below. I can keep us afloat alone.” Before she can ask him another question, he walks away.
Despite Jack's careful calculations, the storm seems to have different ideas. She follows the Pearl doggedly, despites Jack's furtive attempts to skirt her. He even tries Norrington's suggestion as a last effort. The men are silent as they furl the sails in the face of the forthcoming onslaught. Elizabeth clings to the rail near the ship's wheel to avoid falling as the sea pitches the ship. Gibbs makes his way past her, soaked with the warm, but driving rain.
“Sails are furled, Jack. What d'ye want the men to do now?”
“Send them below. There's no point in losing anyone if we don't have to. Oh, and fetch me a length of rope and a bottle of rum while your doing that.” Gibbs nods and rushes off again, trying not to slip on the decks.
“What do you need the rope for?” Jack looks down at her.
“Christ, Lizabeth, you look like a drowned rat.”
She makes a face. “The rope, Jack.”
“It's high time you head to my cabin and barricade yourself in. This isn't even the worst of it and already, your legs are weak as a foal's.”
Gibbs returns while he's staring her down and hands him the rum and rope. It takes his attention from her and for once, she is glad.
“Blessed Mother be with ye, Jack. Marty's already said half a dozen Hail Mary's fer yer immortal soul.” Jack claps his hand over the elder man's shoulder.
“Did you tell him it will do no good?” Gibbs laughs heartily.
“Aye, I did, but he don't listen anyway. Ye know him and his damn rosaries.” A moment of silence passes between them. “We'll see ye on the opposite side of the storm, Jack.”
“Keep to the code.” As Gibbs makes his way below decks, Jack begins to wind the rope around himself, lashing himself tightly to the helm. Elizabeth watches in growing horror. She, until now, hadn't understood just how dangerous a thing steering the Pearl through the tempest was. Before she has a chance to think, she steps into the slack of the rope he has not yet tightened and wraps her arms around him. He jumps, startled.
“Goddammit, Elizabeth, I told you to get below!” His voice is tinny against the roar of the wind and rain.
“I don't want to be alone!”
“You'd have the crew.”
“I don't want you to be alone.”
“I've done this before and it's no Sunday stroll. Go below!” He's fairly bellowing in her ear.
“I won't!” Her voice is defiant. “You can bind me to you or not, but I will stay here.” She thinks of stamping her foot for emphasis, but decided better.
“You're a damned, bloody stubborn fool, Elizabeth Swann.” But he ties her to him anyway. In the tone of his voice, she can hear the clear note of pride at her loyalty. They will weather the storm together.
She closes her eyes. Her forehead is pressed between his shoulder blades as she tries to keep the stinging rain out of her eyes. The Pearl rolls in stormy seas and the waves are crashing over her sides and bow. Jack has pointed her headlong into the surging waves. Elizabeth considers, momentarily, that she could die like this, at the wheel of a pirate ship. She wonders if the sea would rend her flesh from her bones before the crew emerged from below decks. She also considers that the Pearl could sink and she would be trapped, tied against Jack, at they sank to the fathoms below.
She turns her head slightly so that her ear is pressed against his spine. She can hear the wild tattoo of his heart within his ribs and feel the heat of him against her face. She then considers that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad death. She would die of her own accord, at least. Jack has not said a word to her since they faced the storm head on. She could see his hands, white knucked, against the spokes before she bowed her head. She is certain that Captain Jack Sparrow feels fear as he stares down the howling winds.
She's distracted when the rain softens. She lifts her head to look at the sky, loosening her death grip against on his waist.
“Jack,” she whispers. “The sun is out.”
“Don't get your hopes up, luv,” His voice sounds exhausted. “See how the water is still boiling? It means we're in the eye. We've only made it halfway and the second half will be worse than the first, if only because I'm exhausted.” They enjoy the lull, though, and she takes a moment to nuzzle the back of his neck, resting.
The clouds darken again all too soon, and the wind and rain return. She raises her face to the sky to catch a few drops to moisten her parched mouth when she sees it again: the otherworldly fire ringing the tips of the mast.
“It's there again.” He just nods. He's been leaning against the wheel the whole time they sailed through the eye. She reaches her hand up to brush the sodden hair off his face. “It can't last forever.”
“You've never been to Samoa.” She smiles despite the gravity of the situation and she feels him chuckle. It's only a moment, though, and it's broken when the Pearl rolls hard on her starboard side. Elizabeth screams as she sees the ocean rushing up at them. Jack grunts and wrenches the wheel. She's not sure it does any good, but soon they're thrown back to port.
Her knees are shaking, but she refuses to let them give. She will not be a dead weight on Jack, not when he's done the brunt of the work and is already exhausted. She can feel his muscles quivering, too, and it frightens her more than the storm. She's never seen Jack show fear or weakness and, today, she's seen both.
She finds herself drifting, listening to the pounding water and the cadence of Jack's heartbeat. She can't concentrate on anything else. The storm feels like it's lasting months and all she wants to do is sleep. She's so worn down by their ordeal that she doesn't feel the rain lightening. She only feels Jack's body go slack against the helm. Then, everything goes black.
She only stirs a little when she hears voices. The rope holding her up is cut and her legs finally give way. She crumples to the deck.
“Sweet Jesus,” Norrington's face swims in and out of her vision. “Elizabeth... ELIZABETH!” His hand is shaking her and she'd swat it if she could lift her arms. His voice buzzes like a fly.
She hears Gibbs's voice too, but can't make out the words. She hears other voices, too, but they blend and swirl around her. Tears start rolling down her cheeks and she feels like she can't breathe. She wonders if she died during the tempest.
“Move!” The growled command forces her to open her eyes. The men hovering over her, except for Norrington, part like the sea. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jack dragging himself towards her, pale and exhausted. He shoves Norrington hard and fixes him with a murderous look.
“I said bloody move.” He drops to his knees at her side. “She needs air. We've been to hell and back.” Norrington goes to step forward, but Gibbs lays a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
Jack hauls her rag doll limp body up into his arms, struggling for only a moment before he sways towards his cabin.
“Gibbs, you're in charge. Mr. Cotton, take our former commodore to the brig till he remembers himself.” His voice is so hoarse, Elizabeth hardly recognizes it. He stumbles under her weight as he heads down the stairs, his body shaking with exhaustion.
“And you, my girl, are going to bed.”
She can't even stand when they reach his cabin. He shoves his maps off his desk and sets her down.
“You've got to help me, sweetheart. You need to get out of your clothes. You can't sleep sopping wet.” Her head lolls against his chest.
“Can't.” He huffs and grumbles at her obstinance, but starts to divest her of her soaked clothes anyway.
“It's not like I haven't seen a naked lady before, though I will say I didn't imagine these would quite be the circumstances that I'd be disrobing you under, Miss Swann.” Her lips curve into a little, exhausted smile.
“It was brave thing you did today, luv,” he prattles on, hoping his voice will override the nervousness shaking his hands as he touches her bare skin. “I'm not sure I would have made it without you...”
“Jack...” Her voice is distant.
“Ah, you're right, dearie, I am Captain Jack Sparrow. I would have made it somehow.” He pauses. “You were my safe harbour in the tempest, Elizabeth. Your faith saved us.”
He pulls a dry shirt over her and deposits her into his bed before skinning out of his own clothes and tossing them in a heap with hers. He finds a shirt for himself before crawling in next to her.
“Brave lass.” He cradles her in his arms and sings an Irish lullaby to her that she thinks she might remember her nanny singing once, tracing his fingers over the bruises the storm has left on her. He sings until the words run dry and they are both asleep.