dwgm: Kimi Birds (J/E - Siren)
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Inadvertantly swiped two elements of [livejournal.com profile] erinya's wonderful J/E story, The Testament of Skin, and Other Apocrypha ("Tell me everything" and "Nuns"), but she's given me permission to post this anyway. 20% of the H/C table done! Wheee!

Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] hereswith, and [livejournal.com profile] hendercats for suggestions and editing.



Past Present

The first time it happened he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. They'd been hidden, waiting for the opportune moment to spring a couple of their crew from a Spanish gaol, and had been forced to hole up in a dank cellar. Something about the place -- the light, or perhaps the smell -- threw him off. He was not given to odd humors, he was imaginative, but never let it get in the way of his goals. Even so, something in the whites of his eyes, and in the smile that faltered near the edges, told her things were amiss. And when he dozed finally it was only to wake with a start of terror, which turned to a grim look as he realized what he'd dreamed.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing."

She frowned and took up his hand. His expression lightened, but he insisted, "It's nothing," and kissed her.

She let it rest, and slept again, though she knew he did not.

*

The second time was months later, and it came upon him as they lay in the sweet safety of their own bed on the Black Pearl. In the dead of night he was visited with the same evil dream. He began to mutter, and thrash beside her in the bed, struggling against some nightmare foe, anger and fear combined in panicked protests.

"Jack! Jack, wake up!" She shook him, her hand light and firm on his shoulder, but he cried out and thrust her roughly away. She was dismayed, but the action seemed to bring him back. His eyes popped open.

"Did I hurt you?" he demanded, breathing hard.

"No." It was the truth, or nearly so.

He didn't reply, and she had the feeling he was uncharacteristically overwhelmed.

"Jack... tell me." She moved across the small space between them, and laid a hand on his shoulder once more. "Tell me."

There was a long pause, then a simple, "No. Not now," and he pulled her close, hands trembling, and began to make desperate love to her. She started to protest, but he cut her off -- "Hush. Let me. Let me." And so she did, letting him use her, returning his ungentle touch with that of her own, both of them fighting whatever darkness assailed him. The end was more than he could bear in silence, and his hoarse cry wrung her heart. For once she was left unsatisfied, but it didn't matter. She lay still, holding him as he eased into sleep, tears seeping slowly from the corners of her eyes and into her hair.

It happened again, a few weeks later, but that time she merely watched as he came to himself, then, saying nothing, drew him to her.

*

She was looking out over the sparkling ocean when he came to her the next morning. He leaned on the rail beside her, covering her hand with his own.

"D'you want me to tell you?"

"Yes."

He grimaced slightly at the blunt reply. "No mercy, eh?"

"None!" she said, confronting him. "Not when you must savage me in the effort to forget."

That could not be turned off with a jest, and he did not. "I'm sorry, love. Maybe--"

"Don't be!" she said, cutting him off. "I am yours! But you are mine, too. And I want to know everything."

"Everything." He shook his head, eyeing her askance. "No you don't."

Her patience was close to failing. "Jack, I'm not a child! I don't need a legend to love. I need the man behind it."

His look of consternation would have been amusing in other circumstances.

She took his hands in hers. "Tell me."

After a moment he nodded. "Come back to bed then. It's not a tale for the bright sun and sea. And I promise I won't 'savage' you."

She dropped his hands and took his face between her palms and kissed him. Then she led him aft, back to their cabin.

*

They lay very close, face to face on the velvet coverlet.

Elizabeth voiced what she feared most. "Is it... the Kraken?"

But he chuckled. "No! You'd think so, wouldn't you?  But no. It's only this." He let her go and pushed his sleeve up, baring the puckered pink scar on his left forearm. P for Pirate.

"Only that." Taking his wrist, she gently ran her thumb over the letter. "It must have been dreadful."

"It was. Dreadful's the word. I wasn't so... familiar with pain, you might say. Not back then. Beckett had me, and he told me what he was going to do. I'd a couple of days to think on it. It was a long couple of days, and the end of it worse even than I'd imagined. Moses Law, and then the brand. And then they burnt my ship."

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "But... you were alive."

"Aye. And more or less intact. That's what matters, of course, though at the time I wasn't so appreciative as I should've been."

"How did you escape?"

"Didn't. I became ill, and they thought I'd die, so they set me ashore. At a convent."

"A convent?"

"It was a poor, run down place, on the coast of Spain. I was a good while healing. The sisters taught me Spanish. And I taught them... other things."

"Nuns? Oh, Jack! You didn't!"

"Of course. Mostly other things other than what you're thinkin' of."

Elizabeth pursed her lips at the glint of humor in the dark, half-lidded eyes. "But... you weren't healed entirely, were you?"

The humor waned. "No. As you see. Some things you just live with, as best you can. Most things are easier. But that... well, it still plagues me, now and again. Damaged goods, darlin'. But you knew that."

Elizabeth kissed him. Slowly, and quite thoroughly. He finally made a little choking groan deep in his throat and gathered her close, and she smiled against his lips, her hands wandering over him, savoring the very real, rather slight, but wiry form that lay beneath the garb of a Pirate.

When he could, he breathed, "You don't mind, then?"

"Of course not. You cannot have thought I would."

"Never know about women. Take some odd notions... ah! Do that once more, will you, love?"

"Only once more? I was thinking perhaps you'd like to savage me again. Just a little."

"Very possibly. Almost... almost certainly, in fact. Insatiable wench." His own hands drifted to pull at the ties on her shirt. "'Twas the part about the nuns, wasn't it?"


~.~

Date: 2006-09-25 11:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hendercats.livejournal.com
Yay, you've posted it!

"Don't be!" she said, cutting him off. "I am yours! But you are mine, too.
I love how much this says about the closeness of their relationship, that she says this with no doubts.

She dropped his hands and took his face between her palms and kissed him. Then she led him aft, back to their cabin.
Have already told you how irresistable vulnerable Jack is to me, and Lizzie in the role of protector is right, here (why is it, I wonder, that I respond so positively to her assuming a protective role toward Jack, yet have trouble when she does so with Will?).

But no. It's only this.
Hadn't considered this on first reading, but he's embarrassed that something (seemingly) smaller is what's bothering him so much, isn't he? But it's really not (smaller, that is) - the explanatory paragraph and the "damaged goods" line later both show what a huge thing this was. And if we accept what's been said about Jack history to be revealed in P3 regarding Beckett and the brand, this was a life-changing event, in addition to what marks him as being damaged goods. Amazingly well-crafted story - you're doing h/c on the surface and giving us beautifully detailed Jack history (that dovetails so nicely with canon) at the same time!

I wasn't so... familiar with pain, you might say. Not back then. Beckett had me, and he told me what he was going to do. I'd a couple of days to think on it. It was a long couple of days, and the end of it worse even than I'd imagined. Moses Law, and then the brand. And then they burnt my ship.
This paragraph gets better every time I read it. Makes me want to don a pair of steel-toed boots and kick Beckett in the shins. What a perfectly slimy, horrible villain he is.

And the convent, and the nuns and the other things other than what you're thinkin' of are still producing quite unladylike snorts. *applause*

Date: 2006-09-26 01:30 am (UTC)
ext_15536: Fuschias by Geek Mama (J/E - Siren)
From: [identity profile] geekmama.livejournal.com
why is it, I wonder, that I respond so positively to her assuming a protective role toward Jack, yet have trouble when she does so with Will?

I was thinking about it all the way home from work (read your comment right before I left). I think it's because Will, being much younger, still has a lot to prove and, additionally, is all about the angst to some extent. Jack, on the other hand, has so much life experience that minor difficulties don't bear worrying about, and major ones are just something to trust to luck and the opportune moment. But there are things that happen when we're young that stay with us whether we want them to or not. Then there's that whole trust issue -- showing the chinks in one's armour is always a risk.

Makes me want to don a pair of steel-toed boots and kick Beckett in the shins. What a perfectly slimy, horrible villain he is.

He does make a truly poisonous little toad, doesn't he? Have you seen Tom Hollander in Pride and Prejudice as the awful Mr. Collins? He's great in that part, too. I hope they have the Kraken eat him in AWE. :D

Re: the nuns -- I was observing to [livejournal.com profile] outinthestorm that Jack and a gaggle of nuns is an inherently hilarious combination.

Thank you for writing such a detailed review! I appreciate it so much.

Date: 2006-09-27 12:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hendercats.livejournal.com
Have you seen Tom Hollander in Pride and Prejudice as the awful Mr. Collins?
Oh yes! Mr. Collins was so delightfully dreadful (even more so the second time through). When I realized about a week or so before seeing DMC that Tom Hollander was the voice from the trailer calling Jack one of a dying breed, I was just bouncing with anticipation. Love your idea about him becoming kraken-chow! *g*

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