Saturday morning fic
Happy weekend, all!
Once again, there has been some beautiful fic posted this last week which got me thinking and writing, not to mention ladyofthesilent's excellent meta on the possible state of Jack's character in the third film. I've actually finished this one and started another, both dealing with the same situation in different ways. Let's just say this one is angst, the other is smut. :)
Title: Stay Awake
Author: meself, fid_gin
Rating: Hmm, maybe PG-13
Pairing: J/E
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail Disney
Summary: Jack and Elizabeth finally have to have That Conversation
Notes: Warning! I wrote this specifically wanting maudlin and angry Jack, and I got him, yessir. Angst abounds. But you know, I can hardly blame him... I'll make up for it with the next one (which, of course, isn't finished yet). Spoilers for DMC obviously, and I guess possibly AWE.
After several sleepless hours and realizing slumber would not be coming tonight, Elizabeth gave up and rolled out of her hammock to pull on her boots. It was nearly five days since they had retrieved Jack from the Locker, since Elizabeth had seen that unearthly mist drop away like a curtain revealing the Black Pearl floating in that nameless otherworldly sea and him unconscious upon it with no memory (he claimed) of the past months they had spent searching for him. He had been dead those months, and dead men tell no tales.
Tonight was the fourth night, and she had hardly slept fitfully herself what with the buzz of excitement amongst the crew at his return, the mumbles of concern and speculation among same for the state of his corporeal being, not to mention the turmoil of her own feelings at the return of the man she...well, murdered. But it had not escaped her attention that where she had dozed at best, Jack had not slept at all. He had never been one to hold to a regular nighttime schedule, she knew that, but she had also marked how drawn and exhausted his face appeared now, how the lines around his eyes appeared to have deepened, accentuated by the fading smears of kohl which he had not reapplied since they found him. He swayed on his feet even more than usual, and was, by her estimation, very near to total collapse. The thought troubled her enough that she now seemed to share his wakefulness.
They had hardly spoken to each other since his rescue. Heavy on her mind was not only the finality of the clink of the shackles and the moment of sad confusion in his eyes before the facade went back up and he smiled wickedly at her and called her a pirate. More than that, it was the moments before, the heat and the taste and the feel of him - like he was spinning under her hands even when he was perfectly still. Still, except for his mouth, which had greedily accepted hers, and his legs, which had allowed him to be walked backward to...
Elizabeth closed her eyes against the memory. She would not relive it yet again, it changed nothing. Jack was at the helm now, and shortly Gibbs would relieve him and he would retire to his cabin to not-rest yet another night. She would find him and they would have this out, and then maybe they could both find peace. Maybe then he would sleep, and maybe some small amount of their former light would return to his eyes.
She tiptoed to the stairway, grabbing a lantern on her way. The moon was still new and would provide no light on deck to guide her way. The snoring of her fellow crewmates fell behind her as she ascended to the deck and heard the rain before she felt it, pattering the boards of the Black Pearl, a medium drizzle falling from clouds that darkened an already obsidian evening. Making great effort not to slip on the slick wood, Elizabeth made her way. "Jack?" she called, slowly climbing the stairs, not wanting to sneak up on him in the dark and the rain. She tried to make out his form in the pitch black without even the benefit of his white shirt, as he'd have his coat on in this weather, and his hat - a ghostly shadow camoflaging itself amongst the muddy sky and the blackened wood of the Pearl. Reaching the wheel, she made out in the dim glow that it was unmanned - they must have decided to wait out the storm rather than risk sailing into the thick of it. Was he already inside then? Was she all alone on deck with only her small flame guttering in the wind to light her way back down below? The thought filled her with apprehension, and she took a small step forward only to feel her foot shoot out from underneath her as the ship lurched suddenly. Her lamp fell to the deck with a crash and a tinkle. The world went black and as she started to go down strong hands captured her waist before she could complete her fall. She knew it was Jack even before she heard his voice as he hoisted her back to her feet.
"Careful, love. Liable to go overboard that way." Elizabeth thought of falling into the ocean at night, dark waves crashing over her head, no one awake or nearby to hear her cries for help. She shuddered and turned to find the lapels of his coat to steady herself. The rain began to pick up, no longer a drizzle and quickly becoming a downpour, and even inches away she could only barely make out his face.
"I was looking for you..." she started, but her voice was drowned out by a quite violent thunderclap and she shrieked, suddenly not so much steadying herself on him as clutching at him with fear. Even in the darkness she was sure she could see him grinning. Letch.
"Let's continue this conversation inside, shall we?" Doubtful that they could find their way with no light, she was only marginally surprised when he wrapped an arm around her and led them quickly and sure-footedly down the steps toward his cabin. He probably had every inch of the ship memorized...or, perhaps, he could see in the dark.
Inside she fought to keep her teeth from chattering as he went about lighting the cabin. "Here," he said, tossing a blanket at her, and she dabbed at her face and hair before wrapping it around herself. It smelled musty, but then everything on the ship did; she probably smelled a bit mildewy herself, even. In the lamplight, Jack still looked worn and haggard despite being drenched from the storm, which she knew he found invigorating. He threw his coat in the corner, set his hat on the table and sat facing her, propping his feet up. Giving an exaspirated sigh, Elizabeth dropped her blanket and stomped over to pick up the sopping wet coat and hang it on a hook near the door.
"You know it will never dry properly if you leave it like that," she chastised. His eyes twinkled, just a bit, with amusement.
"Right you are," he agreed. "Now how may I be of service to you on this lovely evening, Miss Swann?" Funny, she thought. He used to refuse to address her by her proper name to try and get her hackles up, and now he insisted upon doing so, she was sure for the same reason. Taking the seat opposite him, she saw his eyebrows go up a little when she poured out a small glass of rum from the bottle on the table and swallowed it in one gulp.
"I was..." she began, fumbling for the right words. "I am worried about you, Jack." There it was, and she looked to him for his reaction.
Which was, predictably, flippant. "No need to worry about ol' Jack. Fit as a fiddle, I am. Kind of you to think of me though," he added in a sarcastic drawl.
"Jack!" Her voice was stern as she tried to think of the best way to crack through his teasing veneer. "I am serious," she continued. "I know you have not been sleeping since you...returned, and it's taking its toll on you." He hesitated for only a moment before responding.
"Keeping tabs on me, love?" He fluttered his eyes and pretending to be flattered. "I didn't know you cared. What would dear William say, I wonder, if he knew you were eyeing your Captain so closely?" All right then, she thought. Time to hit him where it hurts.
"Yes, you are Captain. As as Captain it is your responsibility to make sure you are fit to command your crew and sail this ship, and by neglecting that function you are putting the rest of our lives in jeopardy!" Something which was almost certainly anger flared in his eyes at that suggestion; she knew he took his captaincy quite seriously, and that she was treading in dangerous waters. Nervously, she continued. "You appear to be...physically healthy, and I know you are more than capable of fulfilling the duties I mentioned. I can only conclude that," she dropped her eyes from his, "recent events have you troubled." She looked back up at him again pleadingly. "Jack," she said, dropping the formality. "If it's because of what..."
"Stop," he said, and she did. He regarded her stonily for a moment. "This isn't about me," he said finally, reaching for the bottle and taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You just want to unburden your soul." His voice was thick with contempt, but she sensed underneath it that he wanted desperately to believe that her concern was truly for him. Was he right, was it just guilt that had sent her out this evening determined to find him and set things right?
"Jack, I..." she started, but he held up his hand.
"Save your breath, love. I've no interest in hearing again how not sorry you are."
Righteous fury burned in her veins. "That's not fair!" she shouted, leaning forward. "You said yourself..."
"I know what I said," he interrupted again. "I meant it. So all's well that ends well, eh?" He stood and crossed to her, offered her his hand in an overly-extravagant manner. "Now, if you don't mind Miss Swann, now that that's off your chest I'm rather not in the spirit for entertaining this evening and I'll bid you g'night." Elizabeth jumped to her feet, still angry.
"No damn it! I don't care if you believe it or not, but if you don't think it killed me to do that to you..."
He grabbed her suddenly, his grip painful on her upper arms, and pulled her closer. "Killed you, did it?" he asked, his voice low and ominous. Her head fell back and she gasped, afraid that she may finally have gone too far. "Have you ever been dead, Elizabeth?" At least she wasn't 'Miss Swann' anymore.
She shook her head weakly. "No, of course not," she squeaked. He leaned over, his mouth close to her ear, his breath giving her shivers.
"Shall I tell you what it's like?" She couldn't speak, only whimpered a bit. "It's empty," he started. "No pain, no nothing. Just silence and your own thoughts. I remember every second of it." Of course, she'd known he did. "S'like an eternity. And do you know what I thought of all that time? Can you take a guess?" He pulled away and saw the tears pool in her eyes and start to run down her cheeks to mingle with the drops of rain still drying there. Quickly, he lent in and caught one with his tongue, lapping it gently from her jaw, and she moaned softly. "I thought about what a bloody fool I am, falling for your little ruse, bested by a teensy girl half my age who actually made me believe for a moment that I was a good man and the one she wanted." It must be sheer exhaustion, she thought, making him so open. He hasn't the strength to lie. "An eternity of that, darling. So maybe I would rather be awake than risk facing that again."
Elizabeth finally found her voice. "You don't have to face that again. You're...you're alive, Jack." She brought her hand to his face and he closed his eyes at her touch as she ran her fingers over the whiskers of his beard, the circles under his eyes, the edge of his bandanna. Then, without realizing what she was doing, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his for a split second of a kiss before she pulled away, not before she had felt him return it. His eyes remained closed. "And you are a good man," she whispered, as she took his hand from her other arm to pull him toward his bed. "And now you need to sleep." Jack followed with no protest, even when she pushed him down into a sitting position to remove his boots. Only when she made to push him back and pull the blanket over him did he finally open his eyes and grab her hand.
"Stay," he said softly, too tired now to weave pretty words, asking instead of trying to coax her into his bed. She opened her mouth to invoke Will and her chastity and what the crew would say, but instead turned and walked around the room to douse the lamps, then returned to slide in next to him, removing her wet jacket and breeches, leaving only her shirt but trusting him, in fact reaching for him. Holding each other tightly in the darkness, he was warm and so real, and she fought back more tears at the thought that she very nearly robbed the world - robbed herself - of this man.
He heard her sniffle. "S'alright, you know," he said, his voice rumbling against her cheek which she had laid on his chest. Comforting. "Figure I left you to die when I left in the long boat. We're square."
"But you came back for us," she whispered, and felt his hand comb through her hair.
"You, love," he said, his voice fading. "I came back for you. And now you came back for me. As I said, we're square." Not sure if she heard him right, Elizabeth sat up slightly in his arms.
"Jack?" He was already breathing deeply, asleep. Finally. Drained, elated and at peace for the first time since she left him to die, Elizabeth soon joined him.
The End
Once again, there has been some beautiful fic posted this last week which got me thinking and writing, not to mention ladyofthesilent's excellent meta on the possible state of Jack's character in the third film. I've actually finished this one and started another, both dealing with the same situation in different ways. Let's just say this one is angst, the other is smut. :)
Title: Stay Awake
Author: meself, fid_gin
Rating: Hmm, maybe PG-13
Pairing: J/E
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all hail Disney
Summary: Jack and Elizabeth finally have to have That Conversation
Notes: Warning! I wrote this specifically wanting maudlin and angry Jack, and I got him, yessir. Angst abounds. But you know, I can hardly blame him... I'll make up for it with the next one (which, of course, isn't finished yet). Spoilers for DMC obviously, and I guess possibly AWE.
After several sleepless hours and realizing slumber would not be coming tonight, Elizabeth gave up and rolled out of her hammock to pull on her boots. It was nearly five days since they had retrieved Jack from the Locker, since Elizabeth had seen that unearthly mist drop away like a curtain revealing the Black Pearl floating in that nameless otherworldly sea and him unconscious upon it with no memory (he claimed) of the past months they had spent searching for him. He had been dead those months, and dead men tell no tales.
Tonight was the fourth night, and she had hardly slept fitfully herself what with the buzz of excitement amongst the crew at his return, the mumbles of concern and speculation among same for the state of his corporeal being, not to mention the turmoil of her own feelings at the return of the man she...well, murdered. But it had not escaped her attention that where she had dozed at best, Jack had not slept at all. He had never been one to hold to a regular nighttime schedule, she knew that, but she had also marked how drawn and exhausted his face appeared now, how the lines around his eyes appeared to have deepened, accentuated by the fading smears of kohl which he had not reapplied since they found him. He swayed on his feet even more than usual, and was, by her estimation, very near to total collapse. The thought troubled her enough that she now seemed to share his wakefulness.
They had hardly spoken to each other since his rescue. Heavy on her mind was not only the finality of the clink of the shackles and the moment of sad confusion in his eyes before the facade went back up and he smiled wickedly at her and called her a pirate. More than that, it was the moments before, the heat and the taste and the feel of him - like he was spinning under her hands even when he was perfectly still. Still, except for his mouth, which had greedily accepted hers, and his legs, which had allowed him to be walked backward to...
Elizabeth closed her eyes against the memory. She would not relive it yet again, it changed nothing. Jack was at the helm now, and shortly Gibbs would relieve him and he would retire to his cabin to not-rest yet another night. She would find him and they would have this out, and then maybe they could both find peace. Maybe then he would sleep, and maybe some small amount of their former light would return to his eyes.
She tiptoed to the stairway, grabbing a lantern on her way. The moon was still new and would provide no light on deck to guide her way. The snoring of her fellow crewmates fell behind her as she ascended to the deck and heard the rain before she felt it, pattering the boards of the Black Pearl, a medium drizzle falling from clouds that darkened an already obsidian evening. Making great effort not to slip on the slick wood, Elizabeth made her way. "Jack?" she called, slowly climbing the stairs, not wanting to sneak up on him in the dark and the rain. She tried to make out his form in the pitch black without even the benefit of his white shirt, as he'd have his coat on in this weather, and his hat - a ghostly shadow camoflaging itself amongst the muddy sky and the blackened wood of the Pearl. Reaching the wheel, she made out in the dim glow that it was unmanned - they must have decided to wait out the storm rather than risk sailing into the thick of it. Was he already inside then? Was she all alone on deck with only her small flame guttering in the wind to light her way back down below? The thought filled her with apprehension, and she took a small step forward only to feel her foot shoot out from underneath her as the ship lurched suddenly. Her lamp fell to the deck with a crash and a tinkle. The world went black and as she started to go down strong hands captured her waist before she could complete her fall. She knew it was Jack even before she heard his voice as he hoisted her back to her feet.
"Careful, love. Liable to go overboard that way." Elizabeth thought of falling into the ocean at night, dark waves crashing over her head, no one awake or nearby to hear her cries for help. She shuddered and turned to find the lapels of his coat to steady herself. The rain began to pick up, no longer a drizzle and quickly becoming a downpour, and even inches away she could only barely make out his face.
"I was looking for you..." she started, but her voice was drowned out by a quite violent thunderclap and she shrieked, suddenly not so much steadying herself on him as clutching at him with fear. Even in the darkness she was sure she could see him grinning. Letch.
"Let's continue this conversation inside, shall we?" Doubtful that they could find their way with no light, she was only marginally surprised when he wrapped an arm around her and led them quickly and sure-footedly down the steps toward his cabin. He probably had every inch of the ship memorized...or, perhaps, he could see in the dark.
Inside she fought to keep her teeth from chattering as he went about lighting the cabin. "Here," he said, tossing a blanket at her, and she dabbed at her face and hair before wrapping it around herself. It smelled musty, but then everything on the ship did; she probably smelled a bit mildewy herself, even. In the lamplight, Jack still looked worn and haggard despite being drenched from the storm, which she knew he found invigorating. He threw his coat in the corner, set his hat on the table and sat facing her, propping his feet up. Giving an exaspirated sigh, Elizabeth dropped her blanket and stomped over to pick up the sopping wet coat and hang it on a hook near the door.
"You know it will never dry properly if you leave it like that," she chastised. His eyes twinkled, just a bit, with amusement.
"Right you are," he agreed. "Now how may I be of service to you on this lovely evening, Miss Swann?" Funny, she thought. He used to refuse to address her by her proper name to try and get her hackles up, and now he insisted upon doing so, she was sure for the same reason. Taking the seat opposite him, she saw his eyebrows go up a little when she poured out a small glass of rum from the bottle on the table and swallowed it in one gulp.
"I was..." she began, fumbling for the right words. "I am worried about you, Jack." There it was, and she looked to him for his reaction.
Which was, predictably, flippant. "No need to worry about ol' Jack. Fit as a fiddle, I am. Kind of you to think of me though," he added in a sarcastic drawl.
"Jack!" Her voice was stern as she tried to think of the best way to crack through his teasing veneer. "I am serious," she continued. "I know you have not been sleeping since you...returned, and it's taking its toll on you." He hesitated for only a moment before responding.
"Keeping tabs on me, love?" He fluttered his eyes and pretending to be flattered. "I didn't know you cared. What would dear William say, I wonder, if he knew you were eyeing your Captain so closely?" All right then, she thought. Time to hit him where it hurts.
"Yes, you are Captain. As as Captain it is your responsibility to make sure you are fit to command your crew and sail this ship, and by neglecting that function you are putting the rest of our lives in jeopardy!" Something which was almost certainly anger flared in his eyes at that suggestion; she knew he took his captaincy quite seriously, and that she was treading in dangerous waters. Nervously, she continued. "You appear to be...physically healthy, and I know you are more than capable of fulfilling the duties I mentioned. I can only conclude that," she dropped her eyes from his, "recent events have you troubled." She looked back up at him again pleadingly. "Jack," she said, dropping the formality. "If it's because of what..."
"Stop," he said, and she did. He regarded her stonily for a moment. "This isn't about me," he said finally, reaching for the bottle and taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You just want to unburden your soul." His voice was thick with contempt, but she sensed underneath it that he wanted desperately to believe that her concern was truly for him. Was he right, was it just guilt that had sent her out this evening determined to find him and set things right?
"Jack, I..." she started, but he held up his hand.
"Save your breath, love. I've no interest in hearing again how not sorry you are."
Righteous fury burned in her veins. "That's not fair!" she shouted, leaning forward. "You said yourself..."
"I know what I said," he interrupted again. "I meant it. So all's well that ends well, eh?" He stood and crossed to her, offered her his hand in an overly-extravagant manner. "Now, if you don't mind Miss Swann, now that that's off your chest I'm rather not in the spirit for entertaining this evening and I'll bid you g'night." Elizabeth jumped to her feet, still angry.
"No damn it! I don't care if you believe it or not, but if you don't think it killed me to do that to you..."
He grabbed her suddenly, his grip painful on her upper arms, and pulled her closer. "Killed you, did it?" he asked, his voice low and ominous. Her head fell back and she gasped, afraid that she may finally have gone too far. "Have you ever been dead, Elizabeth?" At least she wasn't 'Miss Swann' anymore.
She shook her head weakly. "No, of course not," she squeaked. He leaned over, his mouth close to her ear, his breath giving her shivers.
"Shall I tell you what it's like?" She couldn't speak, only whimpered a bit. "It's empty," he started. "No pain, no nothing. Just silence and your own thoughts. I remember every second of it." Of course, she'd known he did. "S'like an eternity. And do you know what I thought of all that time? Can you take a guess?" He pulled away and saw the tears pool in her eyes and start to run down her cheeks to mingle with the drops of rain still drying there. Quickly, he lent in and caught one with his tongue, lapping it gently from her jaw, and she moaned softly. "I thought about what a bloody fool I am, falling for your little ruse, bested by a teensy girl half my age who actually made me believe for a moment that I was a good man and the one she wanted." It must be sheer exhaustion, she thought, making him so open. He hasn't the strength to lie. "An eternity of that, darling. So maybe I would rather be awake than risk facing that again."
Elizabeth finally found her voice. "You don't have to face that again. You're...you're alive, Jack." She brought her hand to his face and he closed his eyes at her touch as she ran her fingers over the whiskers of his beard, the circles under his eyes, the edge of his bandanna. Then, without realizing what she was doing, she leaned in and pressed her lips gently to his for a split second of a kiss before she pulled away, not before she had felt him return it. His eyes remained closed. "And you are a good man," she whispered, as she took his hand from her other arm to pull him toward his bed. "And now you need to sleep." Jack followed with no protest, even when she pushed him down into a sitting position to remove his boots. Only when she made to push him back and pull the blanket over him did he finally open his eyes and grab her hand.
"Stay," he said softly, too tired now to weave pretty words, asking instead of trying to coax her into his bed. She opened her mouth to invoke Will and her chastity and what the crew would say, but instead turned and walked around the room to douse the lamps, then returned to slide in next to him, removing her wet jacket and breeches, leaving only her shirt but trusting him, in fact reaching for him. Holding each other tightly in the darkness, he was warm and so real, and she fought back more tears at the thought that she very nearly robbed the world - robbed herself - of this man.
He heard her sniffle. "S'alright, you know," he said, his voice rumbling against her cheek which she had laid on his chest. Comforting. "Figure I left you to die when I left in the long boat. We're square."
"But you came back for us," she whispered, and felt his hand comb through her hair.
"You, love," he said, his voice fading. "I came back for you. And now you came back for me. As I said, we're square." Not sure if she heard him right, Elizabeth sat up slightly in his arms.
"Jack?" He was already breathing deeply, asleep. Finally. Drained, elated and at peace for the first time since she left him to die, Elizabeth soon joined him.
The End