try_corsets | (no subject)

(no subject)

[OOC: A suitable amount of time after this.]

The decision is not final yet, not without Will's consent, even though they had discussed the name at length, but Elizabeth begins calling her son Will as soon as he arrives, wailing and kicking like he means to take on all the stormy waters of the world and live to tell the tale.

Will, Jr. is loud, irate, demanding some moments; quiet and almost thoughtful others. Elizabeth couldn't be more proud. Or more anxious to introduce him to his father. There's no telling how long the Dutchman will be able to stay, and once she starts wandering closer and closer to the door to check and see, Guppy and Demeter begin to teach her in earnest what to do with a newborn.

Eventually she is declared well enough for the short trip, and so is little Will. Without another word, Elizabeth scoops up her son -- it is only just beginning to be a thing that doesn't feel unnatural, or an ill fit for her -- and makes for the pirate ship in the lake.

It's morning. She hadn't realized that when she stepped out. The mist is beginning to burn off. Whispering to Will Jr., she tucks his blanket a little closer to his tiny chin. Quick glances spaced between a study of any possible obstacles on the ground give way to a hopeful, searching look in her eyes as she starts to make out details on the Dutchman's hull. Any minute now, she will see what she always longs to see whenever she turns a weather eye on the horizon: her husband, looking out for her.

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Elizabeth smiles at the kiss, helpless to resist leaning her forehead against his. She really is very tired.

"Please."

She draws back, still smiling that small half-smile that is far more genuine than her boldest grin.

"Then you can hold him."

Will's face lights up in his happiest of all bright grins at the very thought of holding him.

Which then dissipates quickly into something approaching terror.

But first he has Elizabeth to get to his cabin, and he guides them both gently, as if afraid either might break, even though he knows his wife is tougher than that.

He has no idea what she's just gone through.

"I would have been there if I could."

"I believe you."

She does.

Any further thoughts she has on the matter are lost when she reaches the cabin door, however. Elizabeth stops cold, back rigid. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open at the mess.

"What happened here?"

Well this is embarrassing.

He moves his back to the nearest pile, making a path for her as he goes, occasionally kicking something away.

"I... was looking for some silver. Did it get to you?"

Her lips twitch.

Given the garbled messages she had been receiving, she can only imagine what prompted what was obviously a frantic search.

"It did. Just in time," she smiles, moving along the narrow path with the skill of someone who has spent a lot of time at sea, negotiating smaller spaces.

"That's a relief."

He can smile, too, at his own idiocy. At least from the safety of the ordeal being over and the two of them being safe.

As they sit in his berth, he wraps his arm - never apart from her - further around her shoulders and brings both wife and son close to him.

"How is the Empress fitted for her new passenger?"

"Carefully."

Elizabeth has no desire to delve further into such things yet. Every time she thinks about it, her heart begins to race in an unpleasant fashion, her palms get hot, her neck starts to itch; symptoms of concern, surely.

A baby. On a pirate ship. Full of pirates who are at best partially loyal to their captain.

She will figure it out when the time comes.

"Help me with the sling." She reaches up toward the knot (a sailor's knot) at her shoulder, but Will is in a better position to untie it.

Will, who likes nothing better than untying fabric next to Elizabeth, moves behind her quickly to work and the knot, and the sling comes away falling, around her hands and lap.

And exposing the tiny person it had sheltered from the outside.

Will stares. Again.

He still can't quite believe it.

Looking down, Elizabeth smiles at her son and adjusts him in her arms so his father can get a better look.

That lasts all of a few seconds.

"Ready?" she asks, starting to pass Will to... Will.

This could get confusing.

NO!

Will looks up at her, wide eyed and panicked all of a sudden. And then down to his son - to baby Will - in just as much panic. Though his hands are already twitching towards him. He doesn't feel like he'll ever be ready.

"How do I do it?"

Elizabeth lets out one of her rare bursts of surprised laughter; it is almost manic, the sort of sound someone might make when told of course you have a choice: you can either walk the plank or face a firing squad!

It is almost funny that he is asking her how to do this.

She has no idea how to do this.

Well, alright. Holding Will has gotten a little less scary. Not that she's prepared to admit as much.

"Put your arms like this, so you can cradle his head," she explains, resting the baby in his arms, trusting that he'll figure it out quickly.

"Do try not to drop him," she adds with a straight face.

He wasn't planning to drop him!

"My hands are rough..." he starts, almost apologetically to both Elizabeth and young Will, but he soon stops all protestations.

Because there is a baby in his arms, tiny little head resting in the nook of his elbow, tiny little feet only just reaching the palm of his hand.

And when he touches one of those tiny little hands in wonder, tiny little fingers curl tightly around the rough sailor's finger he was so worried about, and tiny brown eyes look myopically up at him, so much like Elizabeth.

(If Elizabeth couldn't see further than her own nose.)

And everything melts away.

Will smiles.

He's a father.

Well of course she doesn't think he'd do it on purpose! But even Will has to admit that sometimes his best laid plans go awry!

"And mine are not?" Elizabeth asks with quiet amusement.

The sight of Will holding their son does something funny to Elizabeth's insides (of which she is lately much more aware), and she has to blink back a sudden rush of emotion.

He looks so awed and happy.

Elizabeth is glad that, in spite of everything, she could give his this moment and hopefully many more to come.

"He'll be quite handsome, like his namesake." Her smile is faintly teasing.

"He has his mother's eyes," Will says softly, raising the child up so those eyes get closer to his own.

"Hello, Will."

"He's so very small," Elizabeth murmurs.

Then, "Do you think he'll be well enough?"

He doesn't know the answer to this - he's not a doctor.

But he moves his hand - with tiny baby fingers wrapped to tightly around one finger - to young Will's chest, frowning thoughtfully.

"He has a strong heartbeat," he says. It had been a nagging wonder - he was conceived by a man with no heart, after all. "Aren't babies always small?"

"No."

She shakes her head, until she realizes that might be taken as an answer to his question, which is not what she meant.

"Yes, babies are small. But I meant," and she pauses, blinking at him with a blank expression, not at all sure how she wants to phrase this, "on board the Empress."

With pirates.

The gesture -- Will's hand over his infant's heart -- registers late. She can't help the small smile that follows.

Will smiles, one of those quiet smiles of confidence that he's been showing more and more recently.

"Our son? Your son? He'll be safe anywhere."

Beat.

"And if anyone threatens him, you send that pirate to me."

It's a good smile. Elizabeth has never once doubted Will's confidence in her, but it is nice to be reminded.

"I've used that to my advantage before," she says. "Your position."

She never told Will what she hired Raph to do. He undoubtedly met some of the sailors Raph, ah, helped on their way, but they were probably too scared to call attention to their point of exit, at it were.

"I can't say I completely approve of that," he says cheerfully. "But when it comes to Will, you be as ruthless as you can."

And that's very ruthless indeed.

"As I can."

Elizabeth's cheeks very nearly dimple with her effort not to smirk.

"Will," she asks, gently teasing once more. "Are you giving me permission to behave as a pirate?"

Will finally looks up from his son, brow furrowing in worry.

"Is there a right answer to that?"

Elizabeth's lips curve just enough to suggest a smile.

She ignores the question. The answer seems obvious, really.

"I'll keep him safe," she swears: ever fierce, ever determined.

"I know you will," he says, looking back down as if worried young Will might have changes in the second she's been looking away.

"No one could keep him safer."

That's debatable, but Elizabeth is hardly going to argue.

"I intend to avail myself of help in that regard," she replies easily.

Would a better person feel chagrined at that admission?

Perhaps.

She doesn't care.

"You do?"

Will plays a minor game of tug with his son, testing tiny grips and tiny arm muscles.

"Who?"

Elizabeth stays quiet while she watches them, offering her own finger for their son to squeeze.

He's so small.

Again, she's distracted. They made a human.

"Do you really wish to know?" she asks at last.

She did most of the making. Will's input was - well, minimal.

but he's still as proud as any parent, and extends his little finger to brush against Elizabeth's hand. Hello.

"Am I better off not knowing?"

Hello.

She leans across their son and kisses Will.

Will, Jr. is just going to have to get used to excessive displays of affection on the rare occasions they can see his father. Elizabeth is not willing to have it be otherwise.

"Raphael," she shares eventually. "And others."

Once she hires them.

Will drops his son's hand in order to cup the back of Elizabeth's head and kiss her, hard and passionately.

His other hand has a baby, but that's OK.

"The ninja?"

The baby is too young to be traumatized at being caught in between while his parents share a passionate kiss.

Probably.

Regardless, Elizabeth still doesn't care.

"Yes," she answers. "The ninja."

Beat.

"He is a useful acquaintance."

"I'm sure he is."

Will pulls back a tiny bit, reluctantly, bringing her lower lip at least part of the way, before he looks down at his son, whose breath is becoming steady, his eyes closing.

"How long can you stay?"

Can it be forever?

If only it could.

Yet they both know it can not.

Her voice, uncharacteristically soft, offers what is possible: "As long as you can."

It will have to be enough.

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