try_corsets | (no subject)

(no subject)

Deep down, Elizabeth has known her time was very near. She isn't entirely certain how she has known, but she has. The thought has been drifting through her mind like a lazily meandering piece of driftwood, buoyant but easily pushed aside time and again, left there until she has the desire and fortitude to reel it back and firmly acknowledge the truth in it. For days Elizabeth has existed in a state of semi-awareness, barking orders and making plans, absently noting changes, all at the same time.

Because she's Captain Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King, and she has a position she is determined to maintain.

Somehow.

When the first pain hits, she thinks, Yes, there it is, and stares at her face in her small, cracked looking glass; so different now than the face she'd seen reflected back at her in Port Royal. Better, she thinks. Lived in. The corner of her mouth curves up, and the full lips in the mirror do the same. The scarlet sash today, she decides with a decisive nod, gingerly getting dressed as she had the day before, and the day before that.

Tai Huang eyes her half an hour later, as he is giving a report. Elizabeth slowly, carefully unclenches her fingers from the starboard rail. "The wind is shifting. Starboard tack." As she moves away she does her best to walk straight and tall, not waddle.

Everyone on board knows where to find the Captain at sunrise (keep a weather eye on the horizon), though she's rarely bothered these days. Still, when she gasps aloud and unbends her stiff shoulders to curl in, to try and stop it, two of the men Tai Huang and Gibbs like to keep in their sights guffaw from the main deck. Straightening takes no small effort of will, but she does it; and as she does, she sets her mouth in a thin line and decides, finally, that it's time to find Gibbs. Ready or not, the baby has had enough of waiting.

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And that is all it takes to get Gibbs into a state of total readiness.

Not panic. But resolve. He's been through storms before. This is a storm as much as anything he's ever seen.

"Captain." He's at her side pretty darned quick.

He is, at that. Her elbow bends and she just barely holds out a hand, palm forward: all is well. It's followed by a slow, meaningful nod.

Elizabeth locks gazes with him for another moment, then faces the horizon once more. At last she remarks, "I would have preferred it be night," and leaves her lips slightly parted, as if she hasn't quite decided whether or not she wishes to add something further.

"Your orders, Captain? Should we find a way to make sure the...the visitor to the ship knows?" His voice sinks in a conspiratorial tone.

Elizabeth's gaze flicks aft with minimal accompanying head movement.

"He's elsewhere, at present. If you would be so good as to leave word for him."

With Bar, of course.

"I am really perfectly well," she tells Gibbs next, purposefully relaxing her stance.

There's no rush.

Edited 2010-07-16 00:57 (UTC)

"Elsewhere..." He withholds a small sigh of frustration. Why is there never a ninja around when you need one?

"Perhaps, if I might suggest, the captain needs to go to her quarters?" Which must be where she finds her door off the ship.

A familiar stubborn look settles on Elizabeth's features.

"The captain could be persuaded to adjourn slowly and exhibiting no obvious distress," she states, firmly, "but only with the strictest assurance that no one else on her crew will be told or otherwise led to believe there is any cause for concern."

It has the feel of an order. No one else can know, Mr. Gibbs. Not even Tai Huang, though the blasted man probably suspects after the way she gripped the rail.

He nods without a word. The less said, the better. Those he has to wonder if the crew hasn't sensed something. They're good pirates. Which means that a few must have the same sort of sixth sense that Jack and Barbossa exhibit.

Returning the nod, Elizabeth takes a step forward, then another. She relaxes slightly when the movement does not spark a resurgence of that particular wrenching feeling in the center of her being. Already she finds herself certain that most of the men she knows, pirates or not, would be a gibbering mess if they felt anything similar. Already.

And it will only get worse.

"Shall we?" she asks pleasantly, as if contemplating a quiet stroll along the Empress' decks.

"As the captain wishes," he says in a voice just short of being chipper. Since the crew tends to never talk to him, they wouldn't notice how forced it sounds.

They wouldn't, but Elizabeth does. She gives him another long look before starting toward her cabin, tilting her head back to look up the tallest mast.

"What the captain wishes," she begins, but then her hand suddenly lashes out and wraps tightly around his wrist.

Perhaps she's now wishing this process would be far more comfortable and that she hadn't just given herself away in such a manner. It doesn't matter that it's unlikely anyone could see at that angle -- Gibbs knows. Her hand quickly drops back to her side. Sucking in a breath, Elizabeth continues on without finishing her statement.

The of pregnant women Gibbs has dealt with in his life prior to now could be counted on the fingers of a man with hook for a hand. He never figured that he would ever be with one at such a moment as this.

So he can't be blamed for feeling just a touch of the panic. After this is over, he will make sure to swim in rum for days.

For now, though, he makes sure he's steady. The captain's quarters are not that far off.

It doesn't matter what she's been told or what books she's read, Elizabeth feels unprepared. There aren't any speeches she can make, or any swells of emotion she can ride and use other than her own. There isn't an enemy she can face down with her sword. There's no way to manipulate the situation other than what's already planned. Even so, she intends to meet this challenge as she has all the others: head-on and determined. As steady as she can be, alert and apparently unconcerned, she holds on to this thought until they are down the stairs and in her quarters. Then and only then does she make a gasping sound.

The space here is hers, but every day her eyes seek out and linger on the spot where Sao Feng fell and proclaimed her captain. Now is no exception. A moment passes, then another, and she looks up at Gibbs. "This isn't at all what I expected when I was young and thought of one day having children of my own."

Her lips curve in another half-smile, letting Gibbs know regret hadn't prompted her words.

"Can't say I know much about that at all, Captain. But we both know that what's in books and tales isn't always what actually is." Unless the tales are of Jack Sparrow, oddly enough. "Where does your door manifest itself?"

"No. It's not," she agrees with a wry smirk, then turns and points at a paneled wall. "There."

Beat.

"The lower left panel."

Elizabeth walks away from Gibbs without fully turning her back on him and stops beside the portion of wall she's just indicated. A quick check assures her that they are alone, so she applies the appropriate pressure to the correct spot. "I discovered a few others when repairs were being made."

The cannonball that killed Sao Feng had likewise made a wreck of the captain's quarters, after all.

"But this is the only one that leads," and she pushes it back, revealing the noise and light of the bar after an inch or two of darkness, "to the end of the universe."

The unfortunate thing is that the opening, small enough that she'd clearly have to duck her head and tuck in her arms when not pregnant, is not quite so easy to maneuver as it once was.

Gibbs stares at the small opening and mutters something about how he usually has a proper door despite sharing quarters with the crew. He then assesses the topology and concludes that this will not be easy. But why should it?

"If I can offer the captain some assistance?"

Elizabeth squares her shoulders and nods.

"The captain would be glad of it."

She folds in on herself as much as she's able, turns sideways and steps through the opening. Perhaps if he pushes...

He doesn't so much push as gently encourage. He a silent prayer to a God who has no reason to offer him aid, but hopes the the Lord looks after women and children.

Someone must be looking over them, at least, as she eventually manages the passageway with his help and stumbles into the bar. The bright, loud and disorienting bar. She's rarely been so happy to see it.

Allowing herself only a few blinks, Elizabeth stares directly ahead and tells Gibbs, who she assumes is just behind her, "The infirmary."

Now he can panic, a little. Or at least stopping pretending that he is not accompanying a woman with child.

"Cleat the way for Captain Mrs Turner," he calls basically because it seems like what you should be doing.

Elizabeth stops and raises an eyebrow at him; astonished, but at the same time clearly not. In some ways, his concern is comforting.

Now. Here.

"There's no need to make a fuss," she insists, though it's pitched too low for anyone but Gibbs to hear. "The infirmary isn't far."

A few patrons immediately in their path do step aside, and Elizabeth gives them an imperious look as she goes by.

Unfortunately for Elizabeth, the next person she passes isn't so easily intimidated. He raises his eyebrows at her and stands up, half in automatic politeness, half to drift after the two.

"Now where are you going in such a hurry, in your condition?"

"I hardly think that any of your concern," Elizabeth replies before she's had a proper look at the man asking the question. When she has, her reaction is immediate. "James!"

Her eyes go wide.

"James. You're here."

And wider still.

Will.

"Yes", he confirms, and his eyes flick from her bulging belly to the door she was heading towards as he catches on. "Am I to assume now would not be the time for a visit to the Dutchman?"

Several deep breaths later,

(He's here. Will's here.)

Elizabeth manages to shake her head once and respond.

"No. I'm quite certain this is not the occasion on which to compromise my views regarding hygiene."

She gives him a half-smile: part incredulous, pleased and a little concerned.

"Will's here."

He nods his agreement, again. "And while he can't join us... at least he can be kept informed."