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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"Who?"

It comes out automatically. Who could be with her that could help in this? Who could be with her who is good enough to help his wife with this?

Will pulls the bottle on board and discovers that actually, yes, he did want rum.

"Are they helping? What are they doing? Is it here yet? Why is it taking so long?"

"Jim, for one," Jack reminds him, dryly.

"Patience, son. It'll happen when it's ready to. Did you give her the silver?"

Will freezes, jug still held up and upturned into his mouth as he stares at Jack.

As a dramatic moment it would be better if there wasn't free-flowing rum involved, because it continues to pour despite the situational melodrama and he breaks off in a fit of coughing, choking, and spilling rum.

"What silver?"

"The silver coin what the father's supposed to be providing," Jack informs him.

"Goes with the rum into the water what they're s'posed to wash the new babe with, savvy? 'S all part of the protection ritual."

He appears to be absolutely serious.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Jack! It's possible he's ruined everything!

"Not my fault!" he yelps, affronted.

"Thought you knew already!"

"No! I did not know!"

Jack, he feels, is entirely to blame for this. Maybe his father as well.

He scowls at Jack for a second, then points viciously across the bay.

"Don't! Go anywhere!"

And he rushes back onto his ship.

"Where would I bloody go?"

... probably best that he doesn't think too hard about that.

Not that William's there to answer him, anyway. Jack kicks the sand in front of him, and glares sulkily at the ship.

Will rushes right into his cabin, and proceeds in the familiar panic of someone who knows he had some money somewhere around here.

Trousers and shirts go flying. The organ protests with a mighty clang!. A tea set falls to the floor, saved only by the bachelor's pile of clothes, which nevertheless suffer from the stain of tea.

He finds brass, pewter, lead, and gold that he never knew he had.

It's a good five minutes until he comes rushing out onto the deck and towards the stern, brandishing a silver crown high above his head.

"I found one!"

He brightens.

"Good for you. Now toss it here. No, wait!"

Jack eyes Will suspiciously.

"You sure can throw it this far, William?"

Will waits when he's told to, beginning to look panicked again.

Then rolls his eyes.

"Jack," he reprimands his acquaintance. "Pirate.

"I just hope you can catch it."

The coin traces a long, elegant arc towards the pirate on the shore.

--TING--

Silver strikes against the bright gold of the purple-stoned ring on his finger as Jack snatches the coin from the air. He walks it over his knuckles, then flashes William a wicked grin and gives him a mocking little bow.

"Well done."

He turns back to the bar and saunters off toward it, calling back over his shoulder,

"I'll be sure to let the lass know you sent it in good time!"

"Just make sure she's OK!"

Will calls after him.

"And tell her I love her!"

"And bring back news!"

"And don't be long!"

"I love her!"

Unfortunately for Will, Jack neither brings back news nor returns quickly. There's just nothing to report for another long stretch of time.

(A particularly painful stretch of time, for Elizabeth.)

The mother-to-be does get the piece of silver and clutches it in her palm so tightly that the ridges leave marks on her skin. It's her best connection to Will, in that moment. He recently held it in his own hand, so she is not letting go.

And then there is something wonderful to share. Something new to tell the Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

The loud wail of a newborn baby reaches the ears of anyone near the infirmary.

Will is a father.

Elizabeth is a mother.

She tries not to panic about that, and then promptly forgets it was ever a concern when their baby is placed in her arms for the first time.

Hello.

Demeter is close by and beaming at Elizabeth, who looks happy and comfortable.

She comes close enough to kiss both mother and child, leaving a blessing upon them to flourish and grow.

Then she moves back into the background until she might be needed again.

He waits until it's all finished, just to be absolutely certain, then makes his swaying way back down to the shore. Jack cups his hands around his face, in order for his shout to be heard with perfect clarity, and bellows to the Dutchman's captain:

"Congratulations, William."

Jack's grin is real, and lacks any sign of madcap mischief.

"All's well. You've a fine son."

Somewhere, a long way away, in a sealed wooden box, a steady beating misses a beat.

Will stares at Jack.

He tries to reply, but nothing comes out.

Nothing except a huge, idiotic grin.

He has a son.