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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Demeter squeezes Elizabeth's hand and smiles at Norrington,

"Everything is going as it should. First babies don't like to be rushed."

They don't stand.

They sit, bored and restless and in pain, a bit flustered at the prodding, ready to be done with the whole experience.

And her husband is lounging about his ship. Probably enjoying a nice, crisp Scottish breeze.

"Is he well?" Elizabeth asks through slightly clenched teeth, undaunted by Norrington's response. "Is he happy for the news?"

"He's very well", he assures her. "And of course, he's very happy. I think he wasn't expecting events quite yet. He would have come himself, but circumstances being what they are..."

Guppy is keeping an eye on things, mostly in the background. He gets the impression that Elizabeth would have rather Bar had turned him female for this.

He's worked out how to make the handheld scanner tell him how dilated she is without having to examine her again.

Once things progress, Elizabeth will undoubtedly forget to care. As has been noted by others -- perhaps a bit unkindly, to her mind -- she has a healthy survival instinct.

But for the moment, yes, she is eyeing Guppy from time to time.

"Naturally. Good, I'm pleased he's well and happy." She exhales through her teeth. "Now, how may I entice you to do something about that?" she snaps.

Demeter moves forward and starts massaging Elizabeth's belly, her hands are warm and soothing.

Norrington isn't sure he should really be here, but he does have his orders to make sure Elizabeth is being taken care of.

He hovers a little awkwardly by the door.

She throws a lumpy pillow at his head.

"Tell him it is entirely unfair that I should be trapped here while he is free to stride the length and breadth of his ship, waiting in comfort."

Beat.

"No. I've reconsidered. Do not tell him that at all. Say I am well. The child is also well."

A pain hits her hard.

"Wait! Do NOT leave, James. Send someone else."

Edited 2011-02-06 01:19 (UTC)

He had turned to leave - twice - before he finally returns to his place by the door.

"As you wish, Elizabeth. Anyone in particular?"

Elizabeth glances at Demeter, then Guppy.

"Someone we knoooooooooooOW," she gets out through clenched teeth, waving a hand at the door to the main bar.

Mr. Gibbs might still be lurking about.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door...

"Devils and black sheep and really bad eggs," he sings, under his breath, following it up with a swallow of rum.

Evidently Jack's pondering a complicated problem.

"Ah, Captain Sparrow", comes a familiar voice from the infirmary doorway. "Are you terribly busy, or could I prevail on you to carry a message?"

Jack rolls his eyes, and concludes by slanting a bright glance at Norrington.

"If it isn't old Jim. Hello, mate."

A beat.

"Now just what sort of message is it that's got you thinking I'd be one to go at your beck, hm?"

"Well, it seems we are soon to have a new Turner in the world", Norrington tells him. "The lady would like the late Captain Turner to be kept informed. I would go myself, but for some reason she seems quite determined that I stay."

He sits bolt upright, swaying, and stares at him in alarm.

"You're not serious."

"Entirely", Norrington informs him. "Now, will you go, or should I find someone else?"

Jack eyes him for a few seconds longer, then gives a sudden bright, winning smile.

"S'pose I could at that."

Norrington eyes him dubiously, not entirely sure what to make of that smile, but nods.

"All right, then."

He nods back, beads rattling.

"... and the message?" he prompts, innocently. "That is, if the lad's to be found out in the lake." A beat. "Because I've no intention of taking the other route."

"He's there", Norrington confirms. "Or I wouldn't be here. The message is that all is going as it should, at present."

"Fair enough," Jack opines.

He gets to his feet and touches two fingers to his hat as he gives Norrington a small, swaying bow.

"I'll be on me way, then."

He turns and starts to saunter to the door, calling over his shoulder,

"Tell Lizzie good luck for me, won't you, Jim?"

"Consider it done", Norrington calls back, then turns and ducks back into the infirmary.

Meanwhile, out on the lake:

The dead Captain Turner is leaning on the railing, looking out towards the bar, waiting for news.

And then he's pacing the deck on legs that haven't been this restless in all the time he's been confined to the Flying Dutchman.

And then he's back at the prow, arms straight enough to lift his feet off the deck.

Come on.

Jack strolls through the lake door and straight toward the beach of the Caribbean inlet, more-or-less in a straight line.

"Ahoy the ship!" he calls, once he's in range, and then shakes his head mournfully as he gets a look at her captain.

"William. You look like a man what could use a drink."

"Jack!" Will calls, sudden, urgently, all his frustration finding a way out through that one single syllable.

He's had a lot of practice saying that syllable in frustrated, impatient ways. He's really quite good at it now.

"Do you have news? Is it here yet? How is she? How are they?"