I call her Red
Jun. 14th, 2004 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fan_eluneSo, literature oral this morning: I got a Shakespeare extract! Yay! Don't really know how it went, you can never really know. I don't think I made an arse of myself, which is always good. Teacher was too much of a monolith to let me know whether I'd done good or bad. That guy is impressive - and a well of knowledge, too, which doesn't help with the feeling at ease. Would cracking a smile kill him? But oh well. He sure was a good teacher anyway.
Now I have to prepare my prensentations for tomorrow's oral.
On an unrelated note,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
greenie_breizh has completely hooked me up on Showtime's latest gay program, The L word. I again find myself having the hots for the character who sleeps around a lot, how desperate is my case? She's called Shane, and she's... she's got that voice, really. I work a lot on voices, and that voice of hers... Katherine Moennig is the actress's name. Tim also is a cutie, I've added him to my list of guys I wanna snuggle. To go back to Katherine Moennig, I knew I'd seen her somewhere, in that rather bad American mini-series or whatever it was, Young Americans. In which Charlie Hunnam has a role, too (and Ian Somer-thingie, too, I think? Yes, I *will* remember his name some day... some day). It only ever showed in bloody French, so it's really crappy 'cause now, because of Katherine (and her voice), I wanna see it again in English - of course, hearing Charlie's actual voice and accent won't be too horrible either.
That being said, what they're doing with Tina and Bette is quite good as well. They're really cute, and I already liked Laurel Holloman in AtS anyway. (And I hate Jenny.) But yeah, even though they got incredibly lucky with the getting pregnant so quickly, let's just overlook that. Artistic licence. It's really great to see the every-day trouble of this couple, as we would see that of a straight couple. (And I hate Jenny.) Marina gives me a rather Inara feeling, I think she's really interesting. She's the kind of character I'd come up with, I think - her own set of moralities, and she won't let anybody give her any shit. I just can't wait to see her being more developed, 'cause so far she's more the shadow of a possibly fascinating character than anything else. (And I hate Jenny.) And she's got a nice voice, too, but nothing to rival Shane's. (And I hate Jenny.) And Kit is great, too - played by Pam Grier - love the accent. 'Sides, it's always good to see a straight gal in such a gay-oriented show.
Oh, and had anybody ever heard about a lesbian-identified man? Kudos to Lisa! Seriously, a lesbian-identified man? I'm really confused about that. But I love the guy - mainly because he's played by Devon Gummersall, aka Brian Krakow in My So-Called Life (and incidentally Sean DeLuca in Roswell). Got me thinking back to My So-Called Life, this was truly a work of art as far as teenage shows go. I need to look up DVD editions. Besides, look at the cast on that show - Claire Danes, Jared Leto, Devon, and also A.J. what's-her-name (yeah, I get bad with names sometimes). Not to mention one of the first main gay characters on TV. Ha, I still semi-remember the song Jordan Catalano (I love his name) had written for... well, his car. And that piece Angela had written about people being made of paper - the episode with the English teacher that finally ran out on them - Jordan admitting he can't read - the ever so realistic portrayal of Angela's parents' couple difficulties - the pirate and the fairy tale princess - Rayanne and her mum - "you're so beautiful that it hurts" - Angela obsessing on a button of Jordan's shirt - so many things. I really need to see that show again.
To go back to The L word, I've gotta say: I hate Jenny. It might come as a shock (if you, you know, haven't seen the show and don't know Jenny), but yeah. Joey had told me she didn't like her, so I'd quite prepared myself to like her (we tend to very much not like the same characters), or at least to give her a shot, but there is no. Way. At. All. She could have been interesting, but she just comes off as a bitca and a nympho, though she had this interesting arc going for her - falling for Marina while being engaged to Tim, being this artistic type - but no. A nymphomaniac bitca is all that comes through with me. I have trouble seeing what is the point of this arc by now - maybe it'll get better, but so far I think they quite screwed it up. Though, okay, Tim sweetness.
Anyway. On a sidenote, managed to write my WlAS episode in time. Yay! It was tough, and it didn't turn out *at all* like what we'd planned, but oh well. I was getting hopeless.
You are going to Marry Josh Hartnett. He is really
shy, but don't let that fool you. He is really
outgoing and sweet with those he loves and will
be loyal to them for the rest of his life.
Congrats!!
Which male celebrity are you going to marry? (14 choices now!!)
brought to you by Quizilla
Gakked fromtwixou, good, I fared better than her (poor her got Justin Timberlake). Josh is rather cute, and he can do quite a good Yorkshire accent (check out Blow Dry with Alan Rickman and Bill Nighy!).
Alrighty. Here's chapter four of FoF (which was again much much improved thanks tocgwriting), and I'm off to work on those presentations.
A Flight of Fancy
Chapter Four: Grapples at the ready
Jack's swagger was even less steady than on land as he opened the ornate double-doors widely and stepped into his cabin. It was partly due to the rum, partly to the exaggerated sway he gave his hips with each step. He made a grand sweeping motion with both arms, turning around to face Will. His words were more slurred than usual, too. "An' 'ere's the cap'n's cabin."
The youth stepped in almost cautiously, taking everything in with interest. Jack grinned as he lit a lantern, then moved to close the doors. Will slowly advanced further into the cabin. Jack wondered what exactly it looked like to the boy. A pirate's cabin, with luxurious furniture that seemed to be there to contrast with the blackness of the bulkhead. The books in the corner; that probably wouldn't puzzle Will as it had Norrington. The commodore was every bit predictable. The boy's eyes alighted on the cot, the satin sheets and the many, many cushions. Jack smirked, swaggering to a corner of the cabin to pick up another bottle of rum.
"Wan' more?"
William turned his blue eyes on him, a flicker of gold from the lamplight. Smiled, an unreadable twist of his thin lips that sent another flash of almost-knowledge to Jack's mind. "No, thanks." Pointedly. "Jack."
Jack paused for a split-second, then shrugged and uncorked the bottle. "More for me." Pointedly. "Will."
He downed a few gulps, then kicked off his boots and went to lean against the bulkhead. Pearl had been hot enough during the day; she radiated heat even now, in the middle of the night, all the heat the sun had poured onto her. She was uneasy tonight, rolling a warning under his bare feet. He followed a few knots in her wood with his free hand, trying to comfort her as he could.
"You really love that ship, don't you?"
Jack looked up at William curiously. The youth had come a few steps closer, the singular glint back in his eyes. "As much as she loves me," Jack answered softly, frowning steadily. "We're made for each other, the two of us."
William took a few more steps, coming to stand but a few inches from Jack, who straightened up slightly, a hand still on Pearl's wood. "You think it was worth it. All of it. Manipulating the Turners. Risking your neck. Going after Captain Barbossa. Killing him."
The pale eyes seemed to shine with more life than there should have been in them. "I don't kill for fun, Will. He did."
"You only kill when it's necessary. When you feel... justified."
"Aye."
Suddenly a hand was on his, around the bottle of rum. William's lithe fingers took it away from him, and the cork from his palm, fingertips brushing at the sensitive skin and sending a shiver up Jack's spine. William put the bottle down, then took a step forward. Their lips were inches apart. Rum was on the lad's breath, the reflection of the lamplight in his eyes giving him an almost feral look. His lips were slightly parted, his hair fell around his face in waves, his tanned complexion slightly flushed. He was breathing heavily, just like Jack. Anticipation. The exquisite anticipation, before...
Jack darted backward just in time to avoid meeting the sharp blade of the small knife William held in his hand. His sash, however, was not so lucky and now sported yet another cut. He made his tone slightly whiny but no longer slurred, keeping his eyes on the lad. "I like this sash. If only everybody would stop having a go at it, it might actually last." A brief pause, then seriously. "Now, would you mind telling me who you really are?"
"I'm a sailor for the Royal Navy, and I think I'll be doing everyone a favour when I plunge this into your bowels, Jack."
The name was uttered with definite contempt, and the boy's tone was otherwise ringing with hateful anger. Jack had no more trouble placing the pale eyes, or the scornful twist to the lips. The lad even went as far as baring his lips in a snarl before attacking again. Jack sidestepped him only just, earning himself a shallow cut across the chest, through his shirt. He liked his shirt, too! Did William think you could find such exquisite cuffs in any market town? He grabbed the boy's wrist and twisted it so he dropped the knife. Jack wished he had kept his boots on when he cut his foot as he swept the knife aside.
A short scuffle ensued, hands grabbing what they could, clothes or hair or wrists, feet almost but not quite slipping on the blood-covered floor, and for once Jack remained silent as they struggled, the silence only broken by the faint murmurs of the pirates who were on mid watch on deck, the rolling waves, the occasional creaks of the Pearl and the ragged breaths of the two men. The scuffle ended abruptly when Will slipped on the blood on the floor and hit his head on the bulkhead. His body crumpled to the floor. Jack stayed on his guard a few more moments – if the lad was anything like his father, Jack was not about to trust his apparently lifeless appearance.
He nudged William with his foot, then again harder, before turning away with a shrug. He whipped back towards the body almost immediately, and then only was satisfied that the lad was really out. Jack's eyes lingered on the floor of his cabin, covered with the blood from his chest and foot. It seemed the foot had bled quite a lot, for such a harmless cut. Jack looked down with a pout at the slash across his chest, running between the bullet wounds. It was shallow, but he was ready to wager it would leave a long scar, if only because of who had made it. Scars behaved that way, or at least those Captain Jack Sparrow got.
Jack's eyes lingered on the boy. He crouched down next to him and brushed his brown hair aside. The harmonious features that had not yet lost their boyish softness, the wide forehead, the masculine nose, and those thin lips, pinker than his had been. A bonny lad, much more so than his father had been.
Jack's other hand came to follow the slash on his own chest as he trailed his fingers down William's cheek. Aye, he would carry a scar there, and he would let the story be known that it was given to him by one William Hunt, the son of Barbossa. The lad deserved that much.
***
"How long have you known?"
Norrington was only just able to contain the anger that was bubbling up in his chest, to keep his voice low instead of shouting, to glare daggers at Ted instead of throwing insults at him. Long years spent repressing his emotions helped, knowing that he would never stoop so low, but the urges were there all the same.
Groves held Norrington's glare as he answered, "A fortnight."
"A fortnight?" he repeated, every line of his body taut and his tone dripping with incredulity. "And all this time, you kept..."
"William never volunteered any other name."
"You kept 'William' aboard. Among your men. Because..."
"You know why, sir."
In three long strides, Norrington reached the edge of his cabin and looked out of the window into the night, not taking in anything. A fortnight. And now came the decision he would have to make. He was all the angrier at Groves for having put him in this position where he was forced to admit that yes, he probably did treat him differently than others, due to their friendship. Following the law to a fault, that had always been his way of life, and yet already, ever since he had stepped into a room he had thought empty to discover his friend in a rather – compromising – position, Norrington had known to turn a blind eye. Doing otherwise would have meant, at the very least, the end of Groves' career. Certainly prison, too, and maybe even death.
Even now, despite the pain and the rage, Norrington could not bring himself to do that to the otherwise accomplished officer. It added another layer to his anger, anger at being unable to hide behind laws, anger at finding that the choice he had was no choice at all, by his standards.
"I never thought it my business who you shared your cot with, Lieutenant. As long as it did not interfere with your duties."
"Yes, sir."
"You have betrayed my trust and failed in your duties. Mr Gillette will take over captainship of the Contester. I shall not file a report, given the... specificity... of the matter. This will need to be taken care of smoothly."
"Thank you, sir."
James turned back towards Groves, suddenly forsaking the relative safety of pretending to be naught but naval officers. He let his shoulders sag and the measure of his hurt reflect in his eyes. It was reflected, too, in every line of Groves' face, in his eyes and the set of his mouth; he wore an expression that James knew all too well, that which he wore whenever he was trying to hide his pain. His brown eyes shone darkly with a well of violent emotions too deep to fathom.
"You let yourself be blackmailed into betraying your duties, Ted. Into..." He forced the mask of duty back on his face and turned partly away when he felt emotions surge within him and threaten to spill over the surface. He could not make his voice harsh and martial again, though. "Into lying to me. You endangered... William."
Groves hung his head. William had volunteered to go serve on the Black Pearl, for no reason that the - sailor would give Groves, and Groves had agreed, lest William should mention that he was... a deviant, as some would say. The fact that the young Hunt had asked for it did not diminish Groves' fault. He had sent William among a crew of pirates, and tonight said pirates had sailed away from the Navy ships' relative supervision, to an island full of their lawless brethren.
Ted had come forth and confessed to it. James clang to that fact as if to a life saver. Ted had come forth and confessed; he had learned his lesson. His fault did not warrant such a punishment as the revelation of the whole case might lead to. He had come forth and confessed. Frustration at the fact that Ted could not really be punished for his true fault rankled again in his chest.
"She said she wanted a chance at a normal life, sir. A chance any boy would have had."
The glare James directed at him convinced Groves not to press his case. Or hers.
***
A sharp, jabbing pain to the back of her skull. She tried to raise a hand to her head, was prevented from it. Couldn't move, she couldn't move. Didn't know whether the rolling motion was in her head or because they were at sea. Probably both. Opened her eyes to look right into two kohl-rimmed, near-black ones. She was tied to a chair in Jack's cabin. The knots were strong and out of her reach, pointless to struggle, trust him to make it so. She forced her muscles to relax.
Jack smiled, a flash of white, silver and gold, but his eyes were not amused. "Welcome back." He stood up from the chair he had been straddling and stepped away to grab another bottle of rum. She quenched the hope in her lungs; she had learned first hand tonight that, no matter how inebriated, Captain Jack Sparrow remained Captain Jack Sparrow.
The pirate settled down on the chair again, a leg on each side of its back. His every move seemed to speak of casualness, but she had learned not to trust appearances regarding that man. She had learned not to trust anything regarding that man. His black eyes searched her face intently for a few seconds, before he tipped his head back and took a swallow of rum.
"Now, young William, if that be your name, I'm looking hard for a reason not to gut you, and I'm coming up short."
The pain at the back of her head increased a notch. She was glad that her voice did not tremble as she spoke. "I can think of a few off the top of my head."
A sceptical quirk of his lips. "Care to enlighten this humble pirate?"
"When did you know I planned to kill you?"
"When did I not? I'd have to've been blind, Will." A twinkle in his eyes, but it rang false. "Took me a while to understand why, though. You have his eyes."
Surprise and rage battling in her chest. Rage won out, transpiring in her voice. "I wouldn't know. I never met him."
"Why shouldn't I kill you, Will?"
"You only kill when you feel justified."
"I'd say your trying to make me late Captain Jack Sparrow tends to gimme justification."
"Norrington'd break up your deal."
"That he might, if I told him the truth. But see, Will, I left you in Tortuga in the company of one mighty fine lady, and you sadly did not come back this morning."
A sneer twisted her lips. "You tell him that."
"What, I should make her a lad so's to make it probable? Aye."
Another flash of anger, but she pressed her lips together and did not reply.
Jack leaned forward, arms crossed on top of the chair's back. The beads in his hair clinked as he tilted his head to the side. "What made you feel justified to kill me, Will?"
"You killed my father."
"And he'd killed many a lad's father before that, Bootstrap Bill a case in point. Nothing justified him in that." The black eyes would not let it go. "What made you feel justified to kill me?"
"What was his first name?" She had not meant to ask, but now that she had she might as well press it. "He's always Barbossa, no first name. What was it?"
A lopsided grin graced the pirate's lips. "Aye, no first name. You'd think it was something quite shameful, wouldn't you, undeserving of a pirate. Always been of the mind it was Hector." A derisive snort. "Beware, the fierce pirate Hector is a-coming!"
She was not amused. "Was Barbossa even his real name?"
"Mighta been." A casual shrug, eyes staring off into nothingness. Guarded, maybe, as they gained focus again. "We never were that close, and the mutiny pretty much put a stop to our blooming relationship." Life back in those black pools, directed at her again. "What made you feel justified?"
"What else was I to do?"
Jack shook his head as he stood up, taking a few steps to look out the window. Moonlight was filtering in and he stepped into the beam. He looked almost otherworldly there, bathed in the pale, wan light, his skin seemingly paler than she had ever seen it. He looked like a legend, with his inimitable style and a posture that spoke of a hundred fables.
"The big tragedy of you Navy men," Jack declared solemnly. "You fail to see the choices you have." A slight pause, he resumed before she could intervene. "You could join me crew. You'd be on the Pearl, almost as good as killing me, wouldn't ye say?" He turned his head slightly towards her, flashing her an inviting grin. "'Course, that would mean you stopped with that particular plot o' yours."
"I would never turn pirate."
Jack probably heard the irrevocability of her answer, for he turned saddened eyes on her. "And yet you were willing to end me in the memory of one o' the worst o' them. Why?"
"What else was I to do?" she repeated, jutting her chin defiantly.
Jack made a few gestures of his hands before speaking, as if the movements could encourage the words to follow. "It isn't my area of expertise per se, how honest lads earn a living, but there are other choices than the bloody Navy, mate. Like... being a blacksmith, I was told that wasn't too bad a living."
"I'm not."
"Not what?"
The back of her eyes prickled and she blinked the impending tears away before the pirate had a chance to glimpse at them. "An honest lad."
"Because you tried to kill me? Many a man would think that in itself would not only make you honest, but a bloody hero. If a foolish one."
"I didn't mean that part."
It took a few seconds for comprehension to dawn on the pirate's face. It appeared that, at last, he was at a loss for words. It of course lasted only moments. "Would you be telling me that..."
She spat it all out as if each word could hurt him. "My name's Claire. Barbossa didn't know he'd knocked my mother up eighteen years ago. I cut my hair, bound my breasts, dressed as a boy and ran away from home in Port-de-Paix, when I heard the first rumours about the Black Pearl being back in your hands. So tell me, Captain Jack Sparrow, what option does life have in store for me?"
"You're a lass."
Contempt twisted her lips again. "Aye," she uttered, bitter irony swirling in her stomach. "We covered that."
His whole face was a mask of intense reflection. He finally threw his hands up in surrender. "All right. I'm willing to admit you don't have so many options as I thought, but... look at you. A tar for the Navy. Isn't that a good position for, er, one such as yourself?" He winced, looked saddened. "I can't believe I just advocated the Navy."
"You mean praying that those who discover your secret will either let you fuck them into silence, or be drunk or underestimate you enough that you can knock them out and throw them overboard before they blabber?" An ugly chuckle broke past her lips. "I don't suppose I'm much of an honest lass either."
"So when you said Captain Sin wasn't your type..."
"More like I'm not his."
Jack scratched the back of his head, shuffling his mane of hair, beads clicking together. "Again, you could have your place aboard the Pearl, and you wouldn't have to hide yourself. Anamaria –"
She spat at his feet. "Never."
"Aye, I can see a resemblance." He raised both of his first fingers, as if to signal he had had a grand idea. "I'll arrange a meeting. Won't take long to find her on shore, she'll be at Joe's or Bill's most likely, and there's none better 'n her at making someone see reason against their will, just you wait."
"Reason in joining with pirates?"
He stopped as he was about to gag her with a dirty bundle of cloth. His eyes were again dead serious. "Much better for you than the alternatives, luv." And he stuffed the gag into her mouth before she could protest. "Now be a right sweetheart and wait here gently while I go get the lady. Savvy?"
And with a pat to her head, he strutted out of the cabin.
Claire let her head fall backward, trying to ignore the new surge of pain from the back of her skull. And he called those choices.
***
There was the sound of broken glass, then raised voices – both of theirs – before Anamaria strode back out of the cabin, swinging the doors closed behind her, looking as angry as Jack had ever seen her. Which meant that she would have given a harpy a run for her money.
"'Twas a bright idea to keep my cutlass for me, Jack," she agreed, black eyes flashing with anger. "I'll be havin' it back now. I've got meself a throat to slice."
Jack was slightly surprised that, lacking her weapon, Anamaria had not tried to slice Claire's throat with her bare teeth, and reflected that confinement to her cabin must have somewhat sweetened his first mate.
"No throat slicing, Anamaria. Commodore James wouldn't take too kindly to a lass being killed on me ship."
The woman did not say anything, simply extended her hand more pointedly, eyes flashing again.
Jack gave her her weapon back, but did not let go until after he had insisted. "I mean it, luv. No throat slicing."
Anamaria wrenched the cutlass from his grip and headed for Pearl's bulkward where a small boat would take her back to shore, tugging the wide-rimmed hat lower over her features in case she met any Navy tars. Jack followed her progress for a few seconds, eyes straying to that determined sway in her hips, before walking back into his cabin. He grimaced in disarray when he realised what the broken glass had been. The smell permeated the whole cabin, which was far from disagreeable, but...
"Why did it have to be the rum?" He looked at the shards of glass from the bottle broken-heartedly, then up at the young lass still tied to a chair. "You're starting to cost me, d'you know that? Between the attempts against my life, which I hold very dear, and the rum without which the life would be held a lot less dear... I don't suppose Anamaria strode out in such a rage because it upset her that you'd accepted to be the second woman aboard, 'ey?"
The pale blue eyes were cold, so very much as Jack remembered his. The thin lips were pressed together in a disdainful line, and Claire did not answer.
"Very well." Jack moved to put out the lanterns, then headed for the cot and stripped out of his clothes. "Then I'll be having meself a nice bit o' sleep, and handing you over to Commodore James when we rendezvous with him in the morning."
Her only response was to spit to the floor again. Jack might have protested if it had not already been covered with a mix of blood and rum. Spit would not make it much worse. The pirate dropped on the cot that was gently swinging with the roll of the waves. Pearl lulled him to sleep amid the cushions, soft and warm. That one, at least, loved him completely, and she was the only woman to truly matter.
-- End Chapter Four
Again, please review?
Now I have to prepare my prensentations for tomorrow's oral.
On an unrelated note,
greenie_breizh has completely hooked me up on Showtime's latest gay program, The L word. I again find myself having the hots for the character who sleeps around a lot, how desperate is my case? She's called Shane, and she's... she's got that voice, really. I work a lot on voices, and that voice of hers... Katherine Moennig is the actress's name. Tim also is a cutie, I've added him to my list of guys I wanna snuggle. To go back to Katherine Moennig, I knew I'd seen her somewhere, in that rather bad American mini-series or whatever it was, Young Americans. In which Charlie Hunnam has a role, too (and Ian Somer-thingie, too, I think? Yes, I *will* remember his name some day... some day). It only ever showed in bloody French, so it's really crappy 'cause now, because of Katherine (and her voice), I wanna see it again in English - of course, hearing Charlie's actual voice and accent won't be too horrible either. That being said, what they're doing with Tina and Bette is quite good as well. They're really cute, and I already liked Laurel Holloman in AtS anyway. (And I hate Jenny.) But yeah, even though they got incredibly lucky with the getting pregnant so quickly, let's just overlook that. Artistic licence. It's really great to see the every-day trouble of this couple, as we would see that of a straight couple. (And I hate Jenny.) Marina gives me a rather Inara feeling, I think she's really interesting. She's the kind of character I'd come up with, I think - her own set of moralities, and she won't let anybody give her any shit. I just can't wait to see her being more developed, 'cause so far she's more the shadow of a possibly fascinating character than anything else. (And I hate Jenny.) And she's got a nice voice, too, but nothing to rival Shane's. (And I hate Jenny.) And Kit is great, too - played by Pam Grier - love the accent. 'Sides, it's always good to see a straight gal in such a gay-oriented show.
Oh, and had anybody ever heard about a lesbian-identified man? Kudos to Lisa! Seriously, a lesbian-identified man? I'm really confused about that. But I love the guy - mainly because he's played by Devon Gummersall, aka Brian Krakow in My So-Called Life (and incidentally Sean DeLuca in Roswell). Got me thinking back to My So-Called Life, this was truly a work of art as far as teenage shows go. I need to look up DVD editions. Besides, look at the cast on that show - Claire Danes, Jared Leto, Devon, and also A.J. what's-her-name (yeah, I get bad with names sometimes). Not to mention one of the first main gay characters on TV. Ha, I still semi-remember the song Jordan Catalano (I love his name) had written for... well, his car. And that piece Angela had written about people being made of paper - the episode with the English teacher that finally ran out on them - Jordan admitting he can't read - the ever so realistic portrayal of Angela's parents' couple difficulties - the pirate and the fairy tale princess - Rayanne and her mum - "you're so beautiful that it hurts" - Angela obsessing on a button of Jordan's shirt - so many things. I really need to see that show again.
To go back to The L word, I've gotta say: I hate Jenny. It might come as a shock (if you, you know, haven't seen the show and don't know Jenny), but yeah. Joey had told me she didn't like her, so I'd quite prepared myself to like her (we tend to very much not like the same characters), or at least to give her a shot, but there is no. Way. At. All. She could have been interesting, but she just comes off as a bitca and a nympho, though she had this interesting arc going for her - falling for Marina while being engaged to Tim, being this artistic type - but no. A nymphomaniac bitca is all that comes through with me. I have trouble seeing what is the point of this arc by now - maybe it'll get better, but so far I think they quite screwed it up. Though, okay, Tim sweetness.
Anyway. On a sidenote, managed to write my WlAS episode in time. Yay! It was tough, and it didn't turn out *at all* like what we'd planned, but oh well. I was getting hopeless.
You are going to Marry Josh Hartnett. He is really
shy, but don't let that fool you. He is really
outgoing and sweet with those he loves and will
be loyal to them for the rest of his life.
Congrats!!
Which male celebrity are you going to marry? (14 choices now!!)
brought to you by Quizilla
Gakked from
twixou, good, I fared better than her (poor her got Justin Timberlake). Josh is rather cute, and he can do quite a good Yorkshire accent (check out Blow Dry with Alan Rickman and Bill Nighy!). Alrighty. Here's chapter four of FoF (which was again much much improved thanks to
cgwriting), and I'm off to work on those presentations.A Flight of Fancy
Chapter Four: Grapples at the ready
Jack's swagger was even less steady than on land as he opened the ornate double-doors widely and stepped into his cabin. It was partly due to the rum, partly to the exaggerated sway he gave his hips with each step. He made a grand sweeping motion with both arms, turning around to face Will. His words were more slurred than usual, too. "An' 'ere's the cap'n's cabin."
The youth stepped in almost cautiously, taking everything in with interest. Jack grinned as he lit a lantern, then moved to close the doors. Will slowly advanced further into the cabin. Jack wondered what exactly it looked like to the boy. A pirate's cabin, with luxurious furniture that seemed to be there to contrast with the blackness of the bulkhead. The books in the corner; that probably wouldn't puzzle Will as it had Norrington. The commodore was every bit predictable. The boy's eyes alighted on the cot, the satin sheets and the many, many cushions. Jack smirked, swaggering to a corner of the cabin to pick up another bottle of rum.
"Wan' more?"
William turned his blue eyes on him, a flicker of gold from the lamplight. Smiled, an unreadable twist of his thin lips that sent another flash of almost-knowledge to Jack's mind. "No, thanks." Pointedly. "Jack."
Jack paused for a split-second, then shrugged and uncorked the bottle. "More for me." Pointedly. "Will."
He downed a few gulps, then kicked off his boots and went to lean against the bulkhead. Pearl had been hot enough during the day; she radiated heat even now, in the middle of the night, all the heat the sun had poured onto her. She was uneasy tonight, rolling a warning under his bare feet. He followed a few knots in her wood with his free hand, trying to comfort her as he could.
"You really love that ship, don't you?"
Jack looked up at William curiously. The youth had come a few steps closer, the singular glint back in his eyes. "As much as she loves me," Jack answered softly, frowning steadily. "We're made for each other, the two of us."
William took a few more steps, coming to stand but a few inches from Jack, who straightened up slightly, a hand still on Pearl's wood. "You think it was worth it. All of it. Manipulating the Turners. Risking your neck. Going after Captain Barbossa. Killing him."
The pale eyes seemed to shine with more life than there should have been in them. "I don't kill for fun, Will. He did."
"You only kill when it's necessary. When you feel... justified."
"Aye."
Suddenly a hand was on his, around the bottle of rum. William's lithe fingers took it away from him, and the cork from his palm, fingertips brushing at the sensitive skin and sending a shiver up Jack's spine. William put the bottle down, then took a step forward. Their lips were inches apart. Rum was on the lad's breath, the reflection of the lamplight in his eyes giving him an almost feral look. His lips were slightly parted, his hair fell around his face in waves, his tanned complexion slightly flushed. He was breathing heavily, just like Jack. Anticipation. The exquisite anticipation, before...
Jack darted backward just in time to avoid meeting the sharp blade of the small knife William held in his hand. His sash, however, was not so lucky and now sported yet another cut. He made his tone slightly whiny but no longer slurred, keeping his eyes on the lad. "I like this sash. If only everybody would stop having a go at it, it might actually last." A brief pause, then seriously. "Now, would you mind telling me who you really are?"
"I'm a sailor for the Royal Navy, and I think I'll be doing everyone a favour when I plunge this into your bowels, Jack."
The name was uttered with definite contempt, and the boy's tone was otherwise ringing with hateful anger. Jack had no more trouble placing the pale eyes, or the scornful twist to the lips. The lad even went as far as baring his lips in a snarl before attacking again. Jack sidestepped him only just, earning himself a shallow cut across the chest, through his shirt. He liked his shirt, too! Did William think you could find such exquisite cuffs in any market town? He grabbed the boy's wrist and twisted it so he dropped the knife. Jack wished he had kept his boots on when he cut his foot as he swept the knife aside.
A short scuffle ensued, hands grabbing what they could, clothes or hair or wrists, feet almost but not quite slipping on the blood-covered floor, and for once Jack remained silent as they struggled, the silence only broken by the faint murmurs of the pirates who were on mid watch on deck, the rolling waves, the occasional creaks of the Pearl and the ragged breaths of the two men. The scuffle ended abruptly when Will slipped on the blood on the floor and hit his head on the bulkhead. His body crumpled to the floor. Jack stayed on his guard a few more moments – if the lad was anything like his father, Jack was not about to trust his apparently lifeless appearance.
He nudged William with his foot, then again harder, before turning away with a shrug. He whipped back towards the body almost immediately, and then only was satisfied that the lad was really out. Jack's eyes lingered on the floor of his cabin, covered with the blood from his chest and foot. It seemed the foot had bled quite a lot, for such a harmless cut. Jack looked down with a pout at the slash across his chest, running between the bullet wounds. It was shallow, but he was ready to wager it would leave a long scar, if only because of who had made it. Scars behaved that way, or at least those Captain Jack Sparrow got.
Jack's eyes lingered on the boy. He crouched down next to him and brushed his brown hair aside. The harmonious features that had not yet lost their boyish softness, the wide forehead, the masculine nose, and those thin lips, pinker than his had been. A bonny lad, much more so than his father had been.
Jack's other hand came to follow the slash on his own chest as he trailed his fingers down William's cheek. Aye, he would carry a scar there, and he would let the story be known that it was given to him by one William Hunt, the son of Barbossa. The lad deserved that much.
***
"How long have you known?"
Norrington was only just able to contain the anger that was bubbling up in his chest, to keep his voice low instead of shouting, to glare daggers at Ted instead of throwing insults at him. Long years spent repressing his emotions helped, knowing that he would never stoop so low, but the urges were there all the same.
Groves held Norrington's glare as he answered, "A fortnight."
"A fortnight?" he repeated, every line of his body taut and his tone dripping with incredulity. "And all this time, you kept..."
"William never volunteered any other name."
"You kept 'William' aboard. Among your men. Because..."
"You know why, sir."
In three long strides, Norrington reached the edge of his cabin and looked out of the window into the night, not taking in anything. A fortnight. And now came the decision he would have to make. He was all the angrier at Groves for having put him in this position where he was forced to admit that yes, he probably did treat him differently than others, due to their friendship. Following the law to a fault, that had always been his way of life, and yet already, ever since he had stepped into a room he had thought empty to discover his friend in a rather – compromising – position, Norrington had known to turn a blind eye. Doing otherwise would have meant, at the very least, the end of Groves' career. Certainly prison, too, and maybe even death.
Even now, despite the pain and the rage, Norrington could not bring himself to do that to the otherwise accomplished officer. It added another layer to his anger, anger at being unable to hide behind laws, anger at finding that the choice he had was no choice at all, by his standards.
"I never thought it my business who you shared your cot with, Lieutenant. As long as it did not interfere with your duties."
"Yes, sir."
"You have betrayed my trust and failed in your duties. Mr Gillette will take over captainship of the Contester. I shall not file a report, given the... specificity... of the matter. This will need to be taken care of smoothly."
"Thank you, sir."
James turned back towards Groves, suddenly forsaking the relative safety of pretending to be naught but naval officers. He let his shoulders sag and the measure of his hurt reflect in his eyes. It was reflected, too, in every line of Groves' face, in his eyes and the set of his mouth; he wore an expression that James knew all too well, that which he wore whenever he was trying to hide his pain. His brown eyes shone darkly with a well of violent emotions too deep to fathom.
"You let yourself be blackmailed into betraying your duties, Ted. Into..." He forced the mask of duty back on his face and turned partly away when he felt emotions surge within him and threaten to spill over the surface. He could not make his voice harsh and martial again, though. "Into lying to me. You endangered... William."
Groves hung his head. William had volunteered to go serve on the Black Pearl, for no reason that the - sailor would give Groves, and Groves had agreed, lest William should mention that he was... a deviant, as some would say. The fact that the young Hunt had asked for it did not diminish Groves' fault. He had sent William among a crew of pirates, and tonight said pirates had sailed away from the Navy ships' relative supervision, to an island full of their lawless brethren.
Ted had come forth and confessed to it. James clang to that fact as if to a life saver. Ted had come forth and confessed; he had learned his lesson. His fault did not warrant such a punishment as the revelation of the whole case might lead to. He had come forth and confessed. Frustration at the fact that Ted could not really be punished for his true fault rankled again in his chest.
"She said she wanted a chance at a normal life, sir. A chance any boy would have had."
The glare James directed at him convinced Groves not to press his case. Or hers.
***
A sharp, jabbing pain to the back of her skull. She tried to raise a hand to her head, was prevented from it. Couldn't move, she couldn't move. Didn't know whether the rolling motion was in her head or because they were at sea. Probably both. Opened her eyes to look right into two kohl-rimmed, near-black ones. She was tied to a chair in Jack's cabin. The knots were strong and out of her reach, pointless to struggle, trust him to make it so. She forced her muscles to relax.
Jack smiled, a flash of white, silver and gold, but his eyes were not amused. "Welcome back." He stood up from the chair he had been straddling and stepped away to grab another bottle of rum. She quenched the hope in her lungs; she had learned first hand tonight that, no matter how inebriated, Captain Jack Sparrow remained Captain Jack Sparrow.
The pirate settled down on the chair again, a leg on each side of its back. His every move seemed to speak of casualness, but she had learned not to trust appearances regarding that man. She had learned not to trust anything regarding that man. His black eyes searched her face intently for a few seconds, before he tipped his head back and took a swallow of rum.
"Now, young William, if that be your name, I'm looking hard for a reason not to gut you, and I'm coming up short."
The pain at the back of her head increased a notch. She was glad that her voice did not tremble as she spoke. "I can think of a few off the top of my head."
A sceptical quirk of his lips. "Care to enlighten this humble pirate?"
"When did you know I planned to kill you?"
"When did I not? I'd have to've been blind, Will." A twinkle in his eyes, but it rang false. "Took me a while to understand why, though. You have his eyes."
Surprise and rage battling in her chest. Rage won out, transpiring in her voice. "I wouldn't know. I never met him."
"Why shouldn't I kill you, Will?"
"You only kill when you feel justified."
"I'd say your trying to make me late Captain Jack Sparrow tends to gimme justification."
"Norrington'd break up your deal."
"That he might, if I told him the truth. But see, Will, I left you in Tortuga in the company of one mighty fine lady, and you sadly did not come back this morning."
A sneer twisted her lips. "You tell him that."
"What, I should make her a lad so's to make it probable? Aye."
Another flash of anger, but she pressed her lips together and did not reply.
Jack leaned forward, arms crossed on top of the chair's back. The beads in his hair clinked as he tilted his head to the side. "What made you feel justified to kill me, Will?"
"You killed my father."
"And he'd killed many a lad's father before that, Bootstrap Bill a case in point. Nothing justified him in that." The black eyes would not let it go. "What made you feel justified to kill me?"
"What was his first name?" She had not meant to ask, but now that she had she might as well press it. "He's always Barbossa, no first name. What was it?"
A lopsided grin graced the pirate's lips. "Aye, no first name. You'd think it was something quite shameful, wouldn't you, undeserving of a pirate. Always been of the mind it was Hector." A derisive snort. "Beware, the fierce pirate Hector is a-coming!"
She was not amused. "Was Barbossa even his real name?"
"Mighta been." A casual shrug, eyes staring off into nothingness. Guarded, maybe, as they gained focus again. "We never were that close, and the mutiny pretty much put a stop to our blooming relationship." Life back in those black pools, directed at her again. "What made you feel justified?"
"What else was I to do?"
Jack shook his head as he stood up, taking a few steps to look out the window. Moonlight was filtering in and he stepped into the beam. He looked almost otherworldly there, bathed in the pale, wan light, his skin seemingly paler than she had ever seen it. He looked like a legend, with his inimitable style and a posture that spoke of a hundred fables.
"The big tragedy of you Navy men," Jack declared solemnly. "You fail to see the choices you have." A slight pause, he resumed before she could intervene. "You could join me crew. You'd be on the Pearl, almost as good as killing me, wouldn't ye say?" He turned his head slightly towards her, flashing her an inviting grin. "'Course, that would mean you stopped with that particular plot o' yours."
"I would never turn pirate."
Jack probably heard the irrevocability of her answer, for he turned saddened eyes on her. "And yet you were willing to end me in the memory of one o' the worst o' them. Why?"
"What else was I to do?" she repeated, jutting her chin defiantly.
Jack made a few gestures of his hands before speaking, as if the movements could encourage the words to follow. "It isn't my area of expertise per se, how honest lads earn a living, but there are other choices than the bloody Navy, mate. Like... being a blacksmith, I was told that wasn't too bad a living."
"I'm not."
"Not what?"
The back of her eyes prickled and she blinked the impending tears away before the pirate had a chance to glimpse at them. "An honest lad."
"Because you tried to kill me? Many a man would think that in itself would not only make you honest, but a bloody hero. If a foolish one."
"I didn't mean that part."
It took a few seconds for comprehension to dawn on the pirate's face. It appeared that, at last, he was at a loss for words. It of course lasted only moments. "Would you be telling me that..."
She spat it all out as if each word could hurt him. "My name's Claire. Barbossa didn't know he'd knocked my mother up eighteen years ago. I cut my hair, bound my breasts, dressed as a boy and ran away from home in Port-de-Paix, when I heard the first rumours about the Black Pearl being back in your hands. So tell me, Captain Jack Sparrow, what option does life have in store for me?"
"You're a lass."
Contempt twisted her lips again. "Aye," she uttered, bitter irony swirling in her stomach. "We covered that."
His whole face was a mask of intense reflection. He finally threw his hands up in surrender. "All right. I'm willing to admit you don't have so many options as I thought, but... look at you. A tar for the Navy. Isn't that a good position for, er, one such as yourself?" He winced, looked saddened. "I can't believe I just advocated the Navy."
"You mean praying that those who discover your secret will either let you fuck them into silence, or be drunk or underestimate you enough that you can knock them out and throw them overboard before they blabber?" An ugly chuckle broke past her lips. "I don't suppose I'm much of an honest lass either."
"So when you said Captain Sin wasn't your type..."
"More like I'm not his."
Jack scratched the back of his head, shuffling his mane of hair, beads clicking together. "Again, you could have your place aboard the Pearl, and you wouldn't have to hide yourself. Anamaria –"
She spat at his feet. "Never."
"Aye, I can see a resemblance." He raised both of his first fingers, as if to signal he had had a grand idea. "I'll arrange a meeting. Won't take long to find her on shore, she'll be at Joe's or Bill's most likely, and there's none better 'n her at making someone see reason against their will, just you wait."
"Reason in joining with pirates?"
He stopped as he was about to gag her with a dirty bundle of cloth. His eyes were again dead serious. "Much better for you than the alternatives, luv." And he stuffed the gag into her mouth before she could protest. "Now be a right sweetheart and wait here gently while I go get the lady. Savvy?"
And with a pat to her head, he strutted out of the cabin.
Claire let her head fall backward, trying to ignore the new surge of pain from the back of her skull. And he called those choices.
***
There was the sound of broken glass, then raised voices – both of theirs – before Anamaria strode back out of the cabin, swinging the doors closed behind her, looking as angry as Jack had ever seen her. Which meant that she would have given a harpy a run for her money.
"'Twas a bright idea to keep my cutlass for me, Jack," she agreed, black eyes flashing with anger. "I'll be havin' it back now. I've got meself a throat to slice."
Jack was slightly surprised that, lacking her weapon, Anamaria had not tried to slice Claire's throat with her bare teeth, and reflected that confinement to her cabin must have somewhat sweetened his first mate.
"No throat slicing, Anamaria. Commodore James wouldn't take too kindly to a lass being killed on me ship."
The woman did not say anything, simply extended her hand more pointedly, eyes flashing again.
Jack gave her her weapon back, but did not let go until after he had insisted. "I mean it, luv. No throat slicing."
Anamaria wrenched the cutlass from his grip and headed for Pearl's bulkward where a small boat would take her back to shore, tugging the wide-rimmed hat lower over her features in case she met any Navy tars. Jack followed her progress for a few seconds, eyes straying to that determined sway in her hips, before walking back into his cabin. He grimaced in disarray when he realised what the broken glass had been. The smell permeated the whole cabin, which was far from disagreeable, but...
"Why did it have to be the rum?" He looked at the shards of glass from the bottle broken-heartedly, then up at the young lass still tied to a chair. "You're starting to cost me, d'you know that? Between the attempts against my life, which I hold very dear, and the rum without which the life would be held a lot less dear... I don't suppose Anamaria strode out in such a rage because it upset her that you'd accepted to be the second woman aboard, 'ey?"
The pale blue eyes were cold, so very much as Jack remembered his. The thin lips were pressed together in a disdainful line, and Claire did not answer.
"Very well." Jack moved to put out the lanterns, then headed for the cot and stripped out of his clothes. "Then I'll be having meself a nice bit o' sleep, and handing you over to Commodore James when we rendezvous with him in the morning."
Her only response was to spit to the floor again. Jack might have protested if it had not already been covered with a mix of blood and rum. Spit would not make it much worse. The pirate dropped on the cot that was gently swinging with the roll of the waves. Pearl lulled him to sleep amid the cushions, soft and warm. That one, at least, loved him completely, and she was the only woman to truly matter.
-- End Chapter Four
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