try_corsets | (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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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.