Fic: 'Wake of the Storm'
This is another one of those gapfiller stories for artaxastra's too-inspiring Outlaws and Inlaws 'verse. I wrote it a while back, right after she posted Force of Nature, and while the potcfest was still going on. It’s for Prompt #8: Jack/Elizabeth, earrings, which was requested by torn_eledhwen. It also happens to fit into my 10_hurt_comfort table, for the prompt “Tears”. Only two more to go on that! And it’s only been a little over a year, lol!
I waited to post this as it was past the potcfest deadline anyway, and because it directly follows the developments in Force of Nature. artaxastra assures me it won't conflict with what she has planned for Jack and Elizabeth as she continues the story, however.
Many thanks, as always, to hereswith for editing and suggestions.
~ Wake of the Storm ~
After a night of combined hurricane fear and Sparrow bliss, punctuated by catnaps, the new day had brought patchy sunshine, a cool breeze, and the revelation of the destruction the storm had wrought.
It wasn’t as bad as it might have been. There was a great deal of flood damage on the lower levels, one of the docks on the windward side had been battered to splinters, and two ships that had apparently been inadequately tied on the leeward side had been torn from their moorings, foundered, and fetched up on the northwest shore, though it was likely they could be salvaged. There were few deaths, but one of them was Granny Wright, their best seamstress, and a friend since the first week Elizabeth had taken up residence at Shipwreck Cove.
It was Elizabeth who discovered her, the frail body twisted and still. The sight of her there, in the ruin of the back room of her shop, was a grievous blow. Only two days before Elizabeth had brought Jamie down to be fitted for a new jacket of some soft, quilted fabric that had recently been acquired, and Granny had exclaimed in delight over Jamie’s increasing size and charm. All gone now. All gone.
That was early in the day, and, with the lack of sleep juxtaposed with the need to be strong and stoic, it set the tone for the remainder of it. Elizabeth was profoundly thankful that she would occasionally catch sight of Jack striding about, helping wherever he could, his ready smile as much an asset as his capable way of dealing with difficulties, small and large. In truth, he was at his best, happy to be back at the Cove, and happy to be lending a helping hand, or encouragement, or his own inimitable touch of humor, whatever was needed.
Elizabeth did well, too, and showed her mettle that day in spite of her inward dismay at some of the destruction. She was King, and she had no false modesty about her worth. She had proven herself to her people in battle, and she would now prove herself to them in time of peace, with Teague's help -- and Jack's.
By the time the afternoon had worn away toward evening, however, she was very tired indeed. She had barely eaten, and had only stopped to nurse Jamie twice, and these, combined with the lack of sleep the night before, had taken their toll. When she came across two boys sitting on a step, the younger of them sobbing over the limp body of the family's cat that had been trapped and drowned, she found tears of sympathy and weariness stinging behind her eyes.
It wouldn't do. She must go eat, and rest for a while. Maybe for the night -- things were settling down, makeshift repairs and temporary aid being well in hand for the most part. She slipped away from the touching scene on the porch and, alone nearly for the first time that day, began the long, winding climb.
Alone, but not for long. She had just rounded a corner into a narrow corridor when she heard someone catching up behind her. She turned, and smiled with relief. Jack!
He grinned crookedly, caught her arm and pulled her into the shadows of an alcove, and kissed her.
In spite of their accord of the night before, it was unexpected and a delight, and the feel of him, the warmth and scent and strength of him, nearly undid her. Tears threatened again, and she broke the kiss but hugged him close and hid her face against his neck, breathing slow and deep. It wouldn't do!
He hugged her in return, his hands stroking her back in that comforting way she liked. "All right, darlin'? Been a long day."
"Yes," she agreed. She lifted her head and made an effort to smile. "Very long. You must be tired, too."
"Aye, but a bowl of stew and a bit of a lie-in with my lovely liege'll set me up. But look here! I'd forgotten about this."
He released her and she watched him rummage in one of his pockets. He pulled out a small packet and gave it to her.
"What is it?" asked Elizabeth, beginning to unwrap the paper.
"Got them from a chit named Estrella, in Port Royal."
"Estrella?" Elizabeth looked up. "You saw her?"
"Aye, when I was nosing about after the Pearl. Seems she's married a tavern keeper in the town. Most of your old things were confiscated, of course, but she said she managed to save these for you, on the chance she'd see you again."
Elizabeth had got the packet open now, and there were two pale objects inside. She stepped forward, into the lantern light, picked them up and dropped the paper. "They're my mother's earrings," she said, stunned. To see them at this time, in this place...
Thoughts of days past overwhelmed her -- her dear, elegant mother, seated at a dressing table, putting these on, a smile curving the beautiful lips; her father giving them to her on her sixteenth birthday; the painful joy of having her ears pierced so she might wear them at her 'coming out', where James Norrington had made her laugh with his dry wit and his remarks about the callow young men who'd come to dance with the governor's daughter. And she had worn these to Jack's hanging, the day Will had told her for the first time that he loved her, that he had done so since the day they'd met. The day Will had saved Jack. For both of them.
She turned to find Jack looking at her uncertainly, and now she saw that he looked as weary as she felt herself from the ordeal of this day. So much loss. So much grief. "Thank you," she said, but her voice hoarse, and to her consternation and Jack's dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she began to sob.
"Elizabeth!" Jack drew her deep into the shadows and into his arms, and she clung to him, her face pressed against his coat, shaking in the effort to withstand the onslaught, then giving into it when it became clear he was not repulsed by her weakness. His arms tight around her, he was murmuring something into her hair, and though she didn't know what he was saying, it made no difference: she was not alone.
*
"Here, I've a hanky, somewhere."
Snuffling, breath hitching only slightly now, she stood back and let him search his pockets, and presently accepted the only-slightly-used lace-trimmed handkerchief he produced. She dabbed her cheeks until he tsked impatiently, took the hanky and completed the job for her. When he held it to her nose and said, "Blow!" however, she drew the line, taking it back and turning away.
Finished, she straightened, and cleared her throat. "I'll have this washed for you," she said, feeling suddenly awkward. She put the handkerchief in her pocket, and glanced at him, saying ruefully, "A poor creature, am I not?"
He smiled crookedly. "We're all poor creatures some o' the time, love." He stepped close, picked up her hand and pressed his lips to it.
There was nothing for it. She had to hug him again.
He returned the favor, with gratifying alacrity. But he said, "No more weeping, now!"
"No!" She straightened, still in his arms, and breathed deep. "Thank you, Jack."
"You're welcome," he said, and lightly kissed her nose. "Just don't expect me to give you earrings again any time soon."
~.~
I waited to post this as it was past the potcfest deadline anyway, and because it directly follows the developments in Force of Nature. artaxastra assures me it won't conflict with what she has planned for Jack and Elizabeth as she continues the story, however.
Many thanks, as always, to hereswith for editing and suggestions.
~ Wake of the Storm ~
After a night of combined hurricane fear and Sparrow bliss, punctuated by catnaps, the new day had brought patchy sunshine, a cool breeze, and the revelation of the destruction the storm had wrought.
It wasn’t as bad as it might have been. There was a great deal of flood damage on the lower levels, one of the docks on the windward side had been battered to splinters, and two ships that had apparently been inadequately tied on the leeward side had been torn from their moorings, foundered, and fetched up on the northwest shore, though it was likely they could be salvaged. There were few deaths, but one of them was Granny Wright, their best seamstress, and a friend since the first week Elizabeth had taken up residence at Shipwreck Cove.
It was Elizabeth who discovered her, the frail body twisted and still. The sight of her there, in the ruin of the back room of her shop, was a grievous blow. Only two days before Elizabeth had brought Jamie down to be fitted for a new jacket of some soft, quilted fabric that had recently been acquired, and Granny had exclaimed in delight over Jamie’s increasing size and charm. All gone now. All gone.
That was early in the day, and, with the lack of sleep juxtaposed with the need to be strong and stoic, it set the tone for the remainder of it. Elizabeth was profoundly thankful that she would occasionally catch sight of Jack striding about, helping wherever he could, his ready smile as much an asset as his capable way of dealing with difficulties, small and large. In truth, he was at his best, happy to be back at the Cove, and happy to be lending a helping hand, or encouragement, or his own inimitable touch of humor, whatever was needed.
Elizabeth did well, too, and showed her mettle that day in spite of her inward dismay at some of the destruction. She was King, and she had no false modesty about her worth. She had proven herself to her people in battle, and she would now prove herself to them in time of peace, with Teague's help -- and Jack's.
By the time the afternoon had worn away toward evening, however, she was very tired indeed. She had barely eaten, and had only stopped to nurse Jamie twice, and these, combined with the lack of sleep the night before, had taken their toll. When she came across two boys sitting on a step, the younger of them sobbing over the limp body of the family's cat that had been trapped and drowned, she found tears of sympathy and weariness stinging behind her eyes.
It wouldn't do. She must go eat, and rest for a while. Maybe for the night -- things were settling down, makeshift repairs and temporary aid being well in hand for the most part. She slipped away from the touching scene on the porch and, alone nearly for the first time that day, began the long, winding climb.
Alone, but not for long. She had just rounded a corner into a narrow corridor when she heard someone catching up behind her. She turned, and smiled with relief. Jack!
He grinned crookedly, caught her arm and pulled her into the shadows of an alcove, and kissed her.
In spite of their accord of the night before, it was unexpected and a delight, and the feel of him, the warmth and scent and strength of him, nearly undid her. Tears threatened again, and she broke the kiss but hugged him close and hid her face against his neck, breathing slow and deep. It wouldn't do!
He hugged her in return, his hands stroking her back in that comforting way she liked. "All right, darlin'? Been a long day."
"Yes," she agreed. She lifted her head and made an effort to smile. "Very long. You must be tired, too."
"Aye, but a bowl of stew and a bit of a lie-in with my lovely liege'll set me up. But look here! I'd forgotten about this."
He released her and she watched him rummage in one of his pockets. He pulled out a small packet and gave it to her.
"What is it?" asked Elizabeth, beginning to unwrap the paper.
"Got them from a chit named Estrella, in Port Royal."
"Estrella?" Elizabeth looked up. "You saw her?"
"Aye, when I was nosing about after the Pearl. Seems she's married a tavern keeper in the town. Most of your old things were confiscated, of course, but she said she managed to save these for you, on the chance she'd see you again."
Elizabeth had got the packet open now, and there were two pale objects inside. She stepped forward, into the lantern light, picked them up and dropped the paper. "They're my mother's earrings," she said, stunned. To see them at this time, in this place...
Thoughts of days past overwhelmed her -- her dear, elegant mother, seated at a dressing table, putting these on, a smile curving the beautiful lips; her father giving them to her on her sixteenth birthday; the painful joy of having her ears pierced so she might wear them at her 'coming out', where James Norrington had made her laugh with his dry wit and his remarks about the callow young men who'd come to dance with the governor's daughter. And she had worn these to Jack's hanging, the day Will had told her for the first time that he loved her, that he had done so since the day they'd met. The day Will had saved Jack. For both of them.
She turned to find Jack looking at her uncertainly, and now she saw that he looked as weary as she felt herself from the ordeal of this day. So much loss. So much grief. "Thank you," she said, but her voice hoarse, and to her consternation and Jack's dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she began to sob.
"Elizabeth!" Jack drew her deep into the shadows and into his arms, and she clung to him, her face pressed against his coat, shaking in the effort to withstand the onslaught, then giving into it when it became clear he was not repulsed by her weakness. His arms tight around her, he was murmuring something into her hair, and though she didn't know what he was saying, it made no difference: she was not alone.
*
"Here, I've a hanky, somewhere."
Snuffling, breath hitching only slightly now, she stood back and let him search his pockets, and presently accepted the only-slightly-used lace-trimmed handkerchief he produced. She dabbed her cheeks until he tsked impatiently, took the hanky and completed the job for her. When he held it to her nose and said, "Blow!" however, she drew the line, taking it back and turning away.
Finished, she straightened, and cleared her throat. "I'll have this washed for you," she said, feeling suddenly awkward. She put the handkerchief in her pocket, and glanced at him, saying ruefully, "A poor creature, am I not?"
He smiled crookedly. "We're all poor creatures some o' the time, love." He stepped close, picked up her hand and pressed his lips to it.
There was nothing for it. She had to hug him again.
He returned the favor, with gratifying alacrity. But he said, "No more weeping, now!"
"No!" She straightened, still in his arms, and breathed deep. "Thank you, Jack."
"You're welcome," he said, and lightly kissed her nose. "Just don't expect me to give you earrings again any time soon."
~.~