try_corsets | (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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"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."

"That," Gibbs says with some urgency, "sounds like it would be a good idea. At the moment, however, the captain needs to be elsewhere." In the hands of someone with a clue of how to deliver babies.

Only a short distance remains to the infirmary, about the number of strides it would take her to cross the Empress from port to starboard.

Currently, it seems many times that.

"Yes," she agrees, staring straight ahead, steeling herself for forward motion and what else is to come, "If you could, James."

Elizabeth nods once and begins walking again, eyes on the infirmary door like it's something she intends to conquer if it's the very last thing she manages to do. She expects Gibbs to accompany her. Eventually she'll mention Demeter, but right now? All she wants to do is sit down.

Gibbs now goes silent, relieved that there will be someone else to take charge.

Norrington turns and heads for the lake door, at a rapid walk.

Will is out there, where he always is; on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, leaning on the railing and gazing at the bar, waiting for company to appear.

These are rare moments of not being busy, and he probably wouldn't be able to stand them if there wasn't always the hope that she will turn up, and he could see the growth of the bump.

When a figure appears and heads towards the bar, he prepares himself for company. When it turns out to be Norrington, he's surprised. he had hoped for longer.

Straightening, he stands tall, waiting for his crewman to reach the inlet.

"Tired of shoreleave so soon?"

"Not exactly, Captain", is the wry response. "The other Captain Turner sent me with a message for you. You can expect some small company very soon."

Will doesn't understand at first.

Then understanding hits him like a clout around the head.

"So soon?"

It's not time yet, surely?

"Apparently. Mr. Gibbs is with her in the infirmary, and I'm sure they're taking fine care of her. Should I fetch a bucket or two?"

Will is only barely listening, in his excitement.

"You're sure? You don't know? Go back! Make sure she's OK!"

He's stari8ning against the railing of the Dutchman, desperate to be ashore.

"Of course", Norrington agrees patiently. "It did seem rather important that you knew, first."

Will regains his urgency enough to shout back, "yes, thank you."

But he's staring manicly. Please go now? More news?

And Norrington takes his leave, heading back towards the bar and the infirmary.

[OOC: Continued here.]