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dwgmA longish, rather angsty drabble, 400 words, in reply to both last week's and this week's drabble challenge prompts at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blackpearlsails
~ Post-consular Ghosts ~
He’d always been good at apologies. Pardon. Excuse Me. Sorry! They tripped with great, if frequently feigned, sincerity off his tongue, accompanied by the soulful expression, perhaps the contrite bow, hands pressed humbly together. A useful skill that had, in the past, inspired an unwarranted but extremely convenient hubris in adversaries, as well as smoothing relations with those persons less inclined to do him a mischief.
Never worked with Teague, of course.
The old man had always had his measure. The fact had been made painfully evident to his infant self more times than he cared to recall, until at last he’d made his permanent escape, both from the Cove and from his exacting and apparently omniscient progenitor.
“It’s… complicated,” he told Elizabeth in a tone meant to discourage further inquiry when she asked about the Keeper of the Code, having noted Jack’s unfortunate reaction to Teague’s entrance at the council.
But Hector, striding along beside them, showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. “Teague’s Jack’s paterfamilias, as it were.”
Elizabeth, apparently astonished, turned to Jack. “He’s your father?”
Jack snorted. “S’pose you thought I’d sprung from the briny like Venus, fully formed and served on the half shell with a side of spume?”
“No, but—Jack, wait!”
But Jack was through waiting. He cut down a side passage and soon lost the two as he expertly navigated this mazelike mountain of maritime mayhem, taking the shortest route possible back to the docks.
Time to be shut of the Cove and its unsettling ghosts.
But there were always ghosts, he thought as he rowed out to the Pearl. The Locker had shown him that in spades.
He’d been young when he’d run away all those years ago, barely a stripling, and considering some of the misadventures he’d gotten himself into, before he’d become fly to the time of day, it was debatable whether the decision to leave had been the right one. Teague had certainly had strong objections, and had moved heaven and earth to retrieve him. Jack had thought it merely diabolical persecution at the time. Now, of course, he knew better.
But that was water under the bridge. When he’d met Teague again, years later, they’d almost seemed strangers. It was made abundantly clear that his father had long since washed his hands of his hopelessly unsatisfactory offspring. No apology necessary.
Or accepted, belike.
~.~
blackpearlsails~ Post-consular Ghosts ~
He’d always been good at apologies. Pardon. Excuse Me. Sorry! They tripped with great, if frequently feigned, sincerity off his tongue, accompanied by the soulful expression, perhaps the contrite bow, hands pressed humbly together. A useful skill that had, in the past, inspired an unwarranted but extremely convenient hubris in adversaries, as well as smoothing relations with those persons less inclined to do him a mischief.
Never worked with Teague, of course.
The old man had always had his measure. The fact had been made painfully evident to his infant self more times than he cared to recall, until at last he’d made his permanent escape, both from the Cove and from his exacting and apparently omniscient progenitor.
“It’s… complicated,” he told Elizabeth in a tone meant to discourage further inquiry when she asked about the Keeper of the Code, having noted Jack’s unfortunate reaction to Teague’s entrance at the council.
But Hector, striding along beside them, showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. “Teague’s Jack’s paterfamilias, as it were.”
Elizabeth, apparently astonished, turned to Jack. “He’s your father?”
Jack snorted. “S’pose you thought I’d sprung from the briny like Venus, fully formed and served on the half shell with a side of spume?”
“No, but—Jack, wait!”
But Jack was through waiting. He cut down a side passage and soon lost the two as he expertly navigated this mazelike mountain of maritime mayhem, taking the shortest route possible back to the docks.
Time to be shut of the Cove and its unsettling ghosts.
But there were always ghosts, he thought as he rowed out to the Pearl. The Locker had shown him that in spades.
He’d been young when he’d run away all those years ago, barely a stripling, and considering some of the misadventures he’d gotten himself into, before he’d become fly to the time of day, it was debatable whether the decision to leave had been the right one. Teague had certainly had strong objections, and had moved heaven and earth to retrieve him. Jack had thought it merely diabolical persecution at the time. Now, of course, he knew better.
But that was water under the bridge. When he’d met Teague again, years later, they’d almost seemed strangers. It was made abundantly clear that his father had long since washed his hands of his hopelessly unsatisfactory offspring. No apology necessary.
Or accepted, belike.
~.~
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Date: 2013-02-23 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-23 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-23 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-24 12:06 am (UTC)There are some great authors that have written about Jack and Teague, and I've written a bit about them myself here and there. I'll consider it -- but I bet you could come up with something fabulous, too. Perhaps we should have a Paterfamilias Challenge, eh? *g*
Thank you very much for reading and letting me know you enjoyed this.
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Date: 2013-02-23 11:41 pm (UTC)How marvelous that you still have such perfect pitch for Jack's voice, and Elizabeth's...
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Date: 2013-02-23 11:59 pm (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2013-02-26 10:25 pm (UTC)Hope you enjoyed the symphony. :)
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Date: 2013-02-27 03:11 pm (UTC)Hope you enjoyed the symphony.
I did, it's always a nice night out with some of my favorite people.
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Date: 2013-02-24 01:15 am (UTC)My five very favorite words? Glad you asked. mazelike mountain of maritime mayhem, Did you just love the hell outta writing them? cos I loved reading them.
How cool, loved Barbossa ripping Jack off, loved Lizzie's questions as yet unasked, and the prompt retreat made at the prospect of asking, sending Jack scrambling.
And for me of course, there's the hard part, father and son, both caring, neither really skilled at relating that to the other. Teague not absolutely murdering his offspring is a major statement of his love, as much as efforts to redirect Jack's youthful behavior. Oh, but how utterly teenish behavior in Jack, all prickly prideful, escaping from the Cove.
A son's a son til he takes a wife, a father's a father all of his life. Would love love love more of this story...my curiosity is great about how, when, where, what reconciled them or sent Jack escaping, either/or/both????
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Date: 2013-02-24 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 02:39 am (UTC)P.S. I *really* like the image of Jack rising on a half-shell. :D
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Date: 2013-02-28 03:25 pm (UTC)And yes, more fic in this vein may be on the horizon. So happy you liked this one. Thank you very much for commenting!