FIC: Interfere Not
Okay, really nothing in tone like it, but this little piece by the_dala inspired the following little G-rating rambling. (A marginal W/E from me, God help us all ... this started off as a humorous drabble, I swear ...)
"Be with you in a minute!" Will reassures him loudly, tossed over a shoulder, delivering short, measured whangs of his hammer to the tip of a new sword.
"No hurries, mate." Jack glances at his charge, still pouting, small backside perched on the captain's seaworn palm and legs wrapped around his hip, dangling down his thigh. "Now, don' give tha' look to your da," he chides, pitching his voice and tilting his chin down, fixing his own dark eyes on hers. "Ye knew ye couldna run off with me crew nor th' lovely Pearl. Too young, for one."
The child leans closer, depthless eyes wide, easily filling half her face. Jack grins, thinking to get another goodbye kiss from the little angel; what he ends up with is a chinful of brief fire.
The short yelp, followed by the giggle of one too young to understand her own cruelty, alerts the miniature wench's father, and he pauses, turns, blinks at them before lowering his hammer. "Jack?" he queries in confusion, dipping to rub his sweaty temple against the brush of his upper arm.
Said pirate is rubbing his chin, its chief adornment recently held violently hostage by little fingers. Beneath the inverted vee of his thick moustache his mouth turned in a petulant scowl that would've done the child proud. "Little bugger yanked me braids," he informed the blacksmith.
"Charlie!" Will scolds the girl, flattening his lips in the same mildly disapproving expression he's used on Jack on select occasions. "Wait - aren't you supposed to have sailed by now?"
"You're a right genius, lad." Jack sets the child down, hops off the rise before the door with a small grunt of effort, and scoops young Charlene Turner into his arms again. "'Ere. I don't take on brethern shorter than me own sword." Off Will's confused expression, Jack rolls his eyes knowingly. "She pulled an 'Lizbeth, love-"
"Gwendolyn Charlene!" Will snatches his daughter from the captain, clearly intending to deliver a lecture about slipping her nurse and running for the docks unescorted. Instead, he's curtailed by the five-year-old snuggling into his shoulder and neck, ignoring the grime and sweat and soot to coo and con her way out of the lecture.
He sighs, and Jack can't help grinning; surely, Elizabeth deserves a child just like she was, but it seems Will's caught in the bargain by necessity, too. The pirate knows which parent is the softest touch for little Charlie, and does not doubt her younger sister will also learn, in time. "I jus' love family reunions," he quips, stroking his beard braids, still throbbing with a bit of pain.
Will swings his body so he can see Jack, arms easily cradling his daughter to his chest. "Thanks for bringing her back," he says, genuine gratitude.
Jack shrugs. "Mart has 'nough competition on board. Don' need a lass a fifth his age making 'im feel worse." Will's eyes crinkle as his smile deepens, and Jack fights off the familiar ache of longing in his chest. "An' now, I must be going, if it's all th' same with Mistress Turner?"
The girl turns her head, her other cheek now pressed to her father's shoulder, and regards him with all Will's seriousness before giving a few short, vigorous nods. Her wide smile matches her sire's too, and Jack reassures himself for the hundredth time it was ultimately best to leave the lad to his bonny lass, to not interfere with the nuptials and the creation of this sunny, if occasionally maddening, creature.
Jack steps back, bows with a sweep of his hat off to the girl, eliciting another giggle before turning to leap nimbly onto the rise once again. As he reaches for the door latch just above the neat years-old sword scar, he can hear her ask, "Daddy, that where you stopped Captain Jack from leaving long time 'go?"
"It is, m' girl," Da answers. "But I think we'll let him go this time, savvy?" The girl laughs at the word she's used to hearing maybe twice a year from the pirate, spilling from her father's lips, and Jack keeps his back turned, smiling in spite of himself as he pulls the door and steps into the street.
Leaving, aye, he muses, briefly shutting his eyes against the sun. But my heart never has.
(Okay, Gwendolyn is the closest I could think to "Weatherby" in female form *G*)
"Be with you in a minute!" Will reassures him loudly, tossed over a shoulder, delivering short, measured whangs of his hammer to the tip of a new sword.
"No hurries, mate." Jack glances at his charge, still pouting, small backside perched on the captain's seaworn palm and legs wrapped around his hip, dangling down his thigh. "Now, don' give tha' look to your da," he chides, pitching his voice and tilting his chin down, fixing his own dark eyes on hers. "Ye knew ye couldna run off with me crew nor th' lovely Pearl. Too young, for one."
The child leans closer, depthless eyes wide, easily filling half her face. Jack grins, thinking to get another goodbye kiss from the little angel; what he ends up with is a chinful of brief fire.
The short yelp, followed by the giggle of one too young to understand her own cruelty, alerts the miniature wench's father, and he pauses, turns, blinks at them before lowering his hammer. "Jack?" he queries in confusion, dipping to rub his sweaty temple against the brush of his upper arm.
Said pirate is rubbing his chin, its chief adornment recently held violently hostage by little fingers. Beneath the inverted vee of his thick moustache his mouth turned in a petulant scowl that would've done the child proud. "Little bugger yanked me braids," he informed the blacksmith.
"Charlie!" Will scolds the girl, flattening his lips in the same mildly disapproving expression he's used on Jack on select occasions. "Wait - aren't you supposed to have sailed by now?"
"You're a right genius, lad." Jack sets the child down, hops off the rise before the door with a small grunt of effort, and scoops young Charlene Turner into his arms again. "'Ere. I don't take on brethern shorter than me own sword." Off Will's confused expression, Jack rolls his eyes knowingly. "She pulled an 'Lizbeth, love-"
"Gwendolyn Charlene!" Will snatches his daughter from the captain, clearly intending to deliver a lecture about slipping her nurse and running for the docks unescorted. Instead, he's curtailed by the five-year-old snuggling into his shoulder and neck, ignoring the grime and sweat and soot to coo and con her way out of the lecture.
He sighs, and Jack can't help grinning; surely, Elizabeth deserves a child just like she was, but it seems Will's caught in the bargain by necessity, too. The pirate knows which parent is the softest touch for little Charlie, and does not doubt her younger sister will also learn, in time. "I jus' love family reunions," he quips, stroking his beard braids, still throbbing with a bit of pain.
Will swings his body so he can see Jack, arms easily cradling his daughter to his chest. "Thanks for bringing her back," he says, genuine gratitude.
Jack shrugs. "Mart has 'nough competition on board. Don' need a lass a fifth his age making 'im feel worse." Will's eyes crinkle as his smile deepens, and Jack fights off the familiar ache of longing in his chest. "An' now, I must be going, if it's all th' same with Mistress Turner?"
The girl turns her head, her other cheek now pressed to her father's shoulder, and regards him with all Will's seriousness before giving a few short, vigorous nods. Her wide smile matches her sire's too, and Jack reassures himself for the hundredth time it was ultimately best to leave the lad to his bonny lass, to not interfere with the nuptials and the creation of this sunny, if occasionally maddening, creature.
Jack steps back, bows with a sweep of his hat off to the girl, eliciting another giggle before turning to leap nimbly onto the rise once again. As he reaches for the door latch just above the neat years-old sword scar, he can hear her ask, "Daddy, that where you stopped Captain Jack from leaving long time 'go?"
"It is, m' girl," Da answers. "But I think we'll let him go this time, savvy?" The girl laughs at the word she's used to hearing maybe twice a year from the pirate, spilling from her father's lips, and Jack keeps his back turned, smiling in spite of himself as he pulls the door and steps into the street.
Leaving, aye, he muses, briefly shutting his eyes against the sun. But my heart never has.
(Okay, Gwendolyn is the closest I could think to "Weatherby" in female form *G*)