Fic: 'Stormalong' (5/8 - J/E - 'R')
Here's the next chapter. Many thanks to hereswith for editing and suggestions that vastly improved it, I think.
~ Stormalong ~
Chapter One: Errand
Chapter Two: Disaster
Chapter Three: Shadows
Chapter Four: Persuasion
Chapter Five: Trouble
The first pale light of dawn was filtering through the gap in the drapes. Jack still slept, but not easily. His small, restless movements and increasingly distressed muttering made it apparent that some dreadful vision had him in its grip. Elizabeth slid a gentling hand up his arm, to his shoulder and called his name.
He started awake, stiffening, gaping at the black planks of the ceiling.
"It's a dream," she said.
He turned to her, his eyes haunted.
She swallowed hard. Some dreams were far more potent than memory. Wounds healed, but still left scars. "Come to me," she whispered, and he did, without hesitation. While the sun slowly rose above a red horizon, each soothed the other once more, with the balm of love that is forgiveness.
*
Jack walked Elizabeth back to the church toward the end of the morning watch. When they came within sight of the edifice, a lone figure was to be seen, sitting on a bench under a tree in the south garden. It was Henri Pontchartrain.
Elizabeth exchanged a speaking look with Jack and squeezed his hand, then let go and hurried over to Henri. The young man roused as she approached. Grief was writ on his face, and her heart ached for him. "Henri… Emile-"
"Gone."
She sat down beside him. "You were not alone?"
"No. Father Anselm was there, and Soeur Marguerite, too."
"Ah, I'm glad of that."
He nodded. "He was at peace… at the end."
"And now he is with God," Elizabeth said.
Henri seemed doubtful. "Do you think so?" he said in a whisper.
"I know it," said Elizabeth, with conviction, remembering her father's last words to her: I'll give your love to your mother, shall I?
A flicker of hope crossed the tear-stained countenance.
Elizabeth touched his hand. "Are the women taking care of him?"
Henri nodded, and laughed sadly, his glance flicking from Elizabeth to Jack. "After so many days of care, there is now nothing for me to do."
Jack sat down on Elizabeth's other side. "Plenty to do, mate, if you'd like. The lads and I are going to help with the rebuilding. You could come along."
Henri considered. "I know little about such things. I… I have been a scholar, and more privileged than most folk here on the Île."
"You're a dab hand at sailing, from what me father said," Jack observed. "That skill didn't come to you out of a book."
"I have always loved to sail. I never thought it might prove to be of use beyond my own pleasure."
"Well, there you are. You never know about these things. Do you good to learn something new, maybe."
Henri smiled, bemused. "You are very kind, Capitaine."
"Not a bit of it. Many hands make light work, eh?" Jack rose to his feet again. "You come with me, lad. There's coffee and fresh bread and jam to be had at the waterfront, besides the work. Lizzie, darlin', you'll let the Sister know where Henri's gone, eh?"
"I will," she said, rising, too, and holding out a hand to Henri.
He took it, and allowed her to help him up.
*
It was a long, difficult day for Elizabeth and the others at the church. She worked doggedly, wherever she was needed, comforting as best she could, administering the medicinal tea and light foods that were all the stricken could eat, cleaning and washing, and dealing with noisome messes until, by late afternoon, she was bone-weary and felt quite nauseous herself. Overriding the objections of more old-fashioned folk, she and Soeur Marguerite caused the enormous church doors to be propped open, for the day was sunny and clear, a breeze freshening the air. When at last Jack's distinctive silhouette appeared there, against the light of late afternoon, as he strode in and down the aisle to fetch her, she felt guiltily, blessedly relieved.
"Good afternoon, Capitaine!" Soeur Marguerite looked tired herself, yet found it in her to greet Jack with a smile. "Are you come to take your lady home? She has done so much today, I fear we tax her too greatly."
Elizabeth flushed, and said to her, "Sister! You were up half the night with Emile and Henri, and have not rested yet!"
"It is true," Soeur Marguerite nodded. "I must rest, also. Soon, after the evening meal. But we have more help, now, and I think you should not keep Capitaine Sparrow waiting."
"Precisely so, ma'am," agreed Jack, with a teasing glance at Elizabeth. "'Tis fortunate the townsfolk are roused to action at last. I see you've several more nurses at your disposal. And their men have come out to join in the rebuilding. We made some good progress today."
Soeur Marguerite's eyes twinkled. "Of course! The citizens could not let pirates appear to be more courageous and responsible than they are themselves!"
Jack nodded solemnly. "Very true."
On the way back to the waterfront, however, Jack gave Elizabeth a scold for "pushing this bloody altruism too far". He told her, "You'll go to bed - and to sleep! - straightaway after dinner, and no makin' sheep's eyes at me."
"I don't!" she exclaimed.
"Y'do. How's a man to resist ravishment when you look like that on top of… looking like that?"
"Jack, you can't be serious," she snapped. "I must look the veriest hag."
"Ha! You're not capable of such a thing. I should know. Jamie took you to hell an' back when he made his debut and you still-"
He'd halted suddenly, as though stunned, his gaze fixed on a group of children over near the wharf, the first young ones they'd seen at play in the town, all of them sitting or crouching in a circle, intent on some game.
Jamie.
Elizabeth froze, her hand rising to cover the horrified 'O' of her mouth. Jamie! Here!
Jack spat a furious expletive and took off, striding toward the children like some bird of prey, rather than any sparrow. And the children saw -- Jamie saw, jumping up, his eyes like saucers. He turned and ran for the wharf - for the Pearl - as fast as his short legs would carry him.
Jack sped after him, roaring, "James Turner, you get back here!"
Elizabeth choked, between laughter at this waste of breath and tears of anguish. Jamie here, exposed to that fever - it was unthinkable! This is what came of their indulgence, their failure to make him understand that he must obey, for his own sake and for that of others. Although, there'd certainly be no avoiding retribution now, wherever he'd been hiding. Jack knew every inch of the Pearl like the back of his hand.
The back of his-
Elizabeth, assailed by a horrifying vision of her darling's probable fate, sprinted after them.
Jamie, for all he was young, could run like the wind, but if he had not been so much closer to the wharf than Jack and Elizabeth, he would have been caught before his feet touched the Pearl's deck. As it was, however, Elizabeth had a distant view of Jamie racing up the gangplank and bowling past the gaping anchor watch, with Jack only a few yards behind. By the time Elizabeth was mounting the gangplank to the deck, both Jack and Jamie had disappeared and Jack's roar seemed to be coming from the bowels of the ship. Elizabeth hesitated, but then the roar was replaced by shrieks of terror, and, as she leapt to the companion and began to pound down the steps to the lower decks, the shrieks changed to another roar, this one high-pitched, its anguish indicative of the punishment being visited upon Jamie's person.
"Jack! No!" Elizabeth shouted. He's so small -- too small for this. Oh, God…
But when she reached the correct deck and found them, long seconds later, the denouement had unfolded and the epilogue was in progress: Jamie still roared, his red face wet with tears, both hands pressed to his backside, as Jack, seated on a crate, gave him a shake, scolding again.
"Scurvy brat, haven't we enough to worry about without your blatant disobedience? Didn't I tell you to stay home with Teague? Didn't I? And look here-" Jack turned Jamie roughly to face Elizabeth. "You've made your mother weep, and her already full of terrible cares as it is!"
He let Jamie go, and Elizabeth fell to her knees and received her errant son into her arms.
*
Elizabeth and Jack lay staring at the ceiling in the dark of night. They were both exhausted, and yet were unable to sleep, melancholy hanging over them like some horrid gray fog.
Earlier, Elizabeth had brought Jamie up to the Great Cabin, washed his face, helped him to blow his nose, and changed him into an old shirt of Jack's before tucking him up in the truckle bed. He'd lain there, restless, for a long time, rending her heart with an occasional shuddering snuffle, until Jack came in and the little boy pulled the covers over his head, lying silent and still as a mouse in an effort to render himself invisible.
Then cook brought in dinner. A few minutes later, Jack and Elizabeth were picking disconsolately at their fish stew when Jamie materialized again, appearing beside his mother but peaking over the edge of the table at Jack.
"May I have some, too?" Jamie asked, a tremor in his voice.
Jack set his spoon down and pushed back his chair. "Come here, lad."
Jamie hesitated, but Jack held out his hands and Jamie went to him, a sob escaping as he was gathered in. He wrapped his arms about Jack's neck and buried his face in the long, trinketed hair, uttering a broken "S-sorry!".
"Scurvy brat," Jack muttered, hugging him close. "Just hope you're not destined to be sorrier still."
Now, staring sleepless at the ceiling, Elizabeth thought again of those words. "Jack," she whispered, finding his hand. "You must take Jamie home. Tomorrow. Please?"
Jack laced her fingers in his own. "Aye. I will."
"Teague will be out of his mind with worry."
"I suppose. Thought he would've come after the lad, actually."
"He probably thought Jamie'd be found sooner, and you'd bring him back."
"Likely. And he should've arrived by now, if he was coming himself. Bloody hell. He'll be laughin' his arse off at this."
"Laughing! But why would he?"
Jack was silent for a moment. "Just fathers and sons, I suppose," he said finally. "We used to butt heads something fierce. Never could forgive him for some of the thrashings he gave me."
Elizabeth smiled bleakly in the darkness, her heart aching for Teague and Jack. For Jack and Jamie. "Jamie won't hate you for this."
"No. Maybe not. Not this time."
"Perhaps there won't be a next time."
Jack snorted, grimly amused. "He's no saint, love."
"No."
"The thing is," Jack mused, "we've got to stay one step ahead of him. Need to cast our minds back, anticipate what he'll do next. We've a deal of experience between us, after all. Should be dead easy."
Elizabeth privately agreed that surely it must be possible for two capable adults to keep one small miscreant in check. But she sniffed, and said, "Speak for yourself, Jack Sparrow. I doubt I've even a fraction of your experience!"
"Oh, is that so?" He turned to her, and whispered in her ear. "Scurvy brat!"
Chapter Six: Complications