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artaxastra doesn't mind, but I've been rereading her wonderful PotC stories off and on for the last couple of weeks and, as has frequently happened in the past, was inspired to write fic for her fic. This is Jack's pov, set just before Watching Over You, which is set just after that One Day.
~ Night One ~
He hadn’t been looking but found her anyway. Ran across her by the veriest chance in his stumbling progression, the drink and noise of the celebration down by the docks left far behind. Catlike, the deep shadows of Cove and Hall held few secrets to one who’d been resident throughout his formative years. But there was faint moonlight here and there, which is how he recognized the edge of scuffed boot. The limned curve of her slim leg.
He stilled, swaying, eyes narrowing. Frowning.
He was bone weary himself, and he wasn’t a forgiving sort of man… but it wasn’t right. King of the Victorious Brethren. Not to mention New Bride (and certainly he wouldn’t mention it). Yet here she was in this out of the way niche. Abandoned to exhaustion. Apparently forgotten. The chest with its gruesome burden gleaming dully within reach.
He shivered.
It was cold.
And there’d been too much blood and grief in this victory.
Too much.
She needed a blanket.
He should at least take care of that. He shook off his brooding mien and went to fetch one from a cupboard he remembered (a bit disconcerting all this remembering, when he’d been trying to forget for so long).
And then he was back, standing over her again, and he hesitated, but only for a moment.
Cold. And tired.
Good excuses.
Carefully, he laid himself down close behind her and spread the blanket over them. Felt her sigh, presently, and ease against him a trifle.
He didn’t smile. There’d been too much blood and grief, and even all the rum he’d consumed couldn’t wash it away. But there was a kind of peace. She was warm, and her hair, tickling his chin, smelled of black powder, and sea, and Elizabeth.
He could sleep.
~.~
artaxastra doesn't mind, but I've been rereading her wonderful PotC stories off and on for the last couple of weeks and, as has frequently happened in the past, was inspired to write fic for her fic. This is Jack's pov, set just before Watching Over You, which is set just after that One Day.~ Night One ~
He hadn’t been looking but found her anyway. Ran across her by the veriest chance in his stumbling progression, the drink and noise of the celebration down by the docks left far behind. Catlike, the deep shadows of Cove and Hall held few secrets to one who’d been resident throughout his formative years. But there was faint moonlight here and there, which is how he recognized the edge of scuffed boot. The limned curve of her slim leg.
He stilled, swaying, eyes narrowing. Frowning.
He was bone weary himself, and he wasn’t a forgiving sort of man… but it wasn’t right. King of the Victorious Brethren. Not to mention New Bride (and certainly he wouldn’t mention it). Yet here she was in this out of the way niche. Abandoned to exhaustion. Apparently forgotten. The chest with its gruesome burden gleaming dully within reach.
He shivered.
It was cold.
And there’d been too much blood and grief in this victory.
Too much.
She needed a blanket.
He should at least take care of that. He shook off his brooding mien and went to fetch one from a cupboard he remembered (a bit disconcerting all this remembering, when he’d been trying to forget for so long).
And then he was back, standing over her again, and he hesitated, but only for a moment.
Cold. And tired.
Good excuses.
Carefully, he laid himself down close behind her and spread the blanket over them. Felt her sigh, presently, and ease against him a trifle.
He didn’t smile. There’d been too much blood and grief, and even all the rum he’d consumed couldn’t wash it away. But there was a kind of peace. She was warm, and her hair, tickling his chin, smelled of black powder, and sea, and Elizabeth.
He could sleep.
~.~