Usual disclaimers. blah!
Mulberryblueshimmer - hopefully you won't be so unsure of Oran after this.
***
Mid-March
Oran and Catherine worked at Le Coq for two and a half months before the Swallow returned to New Orleans. The first they knew of it was when the door of the tavern was thrown open over an hour prior to opening time. Catherine, mopping the floor of the bar, raised the mop in shock.
"Sorry Monsieur, we are closed." At least her accent and fluency had improved in the time they had been in the city.
"You are open now." He stepped inside, booted feet trailing dust inside.
"I am sorry - we are closed." She moved to stand before him, blocking him from entering further.
The man kicked over her bucket, spilling the soapy water across the floor. "You are open!"
Hearing the noise, Oran walked slowly down the stairs. "Catherine, is there a problem?"
"This gentleman does not seem to understand we are closed."
"Stupid woman! Where is Fécamp?" he demanded, pushing his way past Catherine.
Slipping on the wet floor, she fell backwards, banging her head hard against a table. With a roar, Oran charged at the man, knocking him to the floor with the force of his attack.
Paul Fécamp rushed into the bar, amazed to see Oran and the man trading blows for all they were worth. Although the stranger was a stout man, Oran was younger and taller. "Arnaud?" The man looked up, in time to catch a fist full in the face. "Arnaud Lucon! Stop! Oran, this man is known!"
Reluctantly Oran stepped away from the stranger, turning to face Fécamp as he strode towards Catherine. "He hurt my wife!"
Paul Fécamp glanced to where Catherine lay groaning as she tried to rise. The door swung open a second time, only just missing her prone form.
"My, my Paul - you do keep an interesting tavern!" A tall blonde man stepped into the bar, reaching down to offer Catherine his hand. "Honestly Arnaud, I asked you to speak nicely!" Still dazed, he helped her to her feet. "Madame, are you hurt?"
Catherine wavered alarmingly as she picked up her mop. "Nothing a leash on your pet animal would not cure Monsieur!" she blinked, trying to focus her eyes before swinging the mop hard against the groin of her attacker. He fell to the floor, groaning in agony. "And perhaps a muzzle!" Using the mop to steady herself she staggered across to Oran, who put his arms protectively around her.
The blonde man laughed. "Your staff have improved Paul - do you have any decent brandy in this dive?" Stepping over the prone form of Arnaud, he threw his arm around the shoulders of Fécamp.
"Ah, Jean Claude, I hope Arnaud has not hurt her for you should taste her cooking! It is divine, even if she is English!"
His arm dropped. "And what is an English woman doing in New Orleans?" Jean Claude turned to face her, eyes narrowed, considering, calculating, cold.
"She is my wife," Oran defended, "and she is of no concern to you!" He tightened his grip on Catherine.
Jean Claude shrugged as Fécamp slapped him on the back, but his eyes did not leave her. "Come, come, let me find that brandy and you can tell me of the latest terrors that the Swallow has inflicted upon the British ships!"
Oran hoped his face held, but was glad that Catherine was cradled in his arms. She went white, her legs sagging.
"Monsieur, is your wife unwell?" Jean Claude was still watching her carefully.
"She is a little dizzy from the blow to her head - I'll take her upstairs for a while." Gently, keeping her facing away from the man they now knew was Lact, he helped her upstairs.
***
"Kitty! Kitty! Damn it, look at me!" She still looked dazed from the blow to her head and was far too white for his liking. "Kitty!"
She groaned, clutching her head. "I feel si." Oran was eternally grateful that she managed to turn her head.
Holding her chin, carefully, between his hands he looked into her eyes - eventually satisfied she was not concussed. "Come on, let's get you into bed. I think you need a lie down for an hour or so. I'll clean this up!" He gently tucked her into the bed before opening the window and going in search of the mop.
Jean Claude Lact looked up as he returned to the bar. "Is your wife feeling better?"
Oran picked up the mop and began mopping up the water from the overturned bucket. "No Monsieur, she has just been sick from the knock on her head. I don't think she should work this night."
"Catherine cannot work?" Paul Fécamp looked up sharply. "That is disastrous!" He turned angrily to Lact. "Keep Arnaud under better control! She is a good worker and it will serve you right if the cooking will have to be mine tonight!"
Oran finished mopping, walking to the kitchen to get fresh water to mop his own floor. "I've told her to lie down for an hour, I will see how she is after that." he offered.
***
Catherine was able to work that night, although both Oran and Fécamp kept an eye on her. Almost the entire crew of the Swallow were in and they listened carefully to the conversation for any clues of Jack's whereabouts.
Luckily Lact liked to brag to his friend and they soon discovered what had happened to Jack. "Yes Paul - he was so drunk he could hardly stand. A five year old girl could have taken him!" He laughed. "His crew were little better, I had a two day head start before they even noticed he was missing!"
Paul Fécamp chuckled, although he had little idea who Jack Sparrow was other than a British pirate. "So, what did you do? Kill him, maroon him, what?"
"I took him up river, to Louis!"
"Not the."
"Yes!" Lact laughed again, a laugh that Catherine hated. "He will never see daylight again!" Although she was careful to keep her face neutral as she handed them their dinner, her heart quailed. Where could Jack be if he would never see daylight?
"Will there be any thing else Paul?" she asked, praying to escape quickly.
"No, merci Catherine."
Lact was looking carefully at the food before him, one eyebrow raised. "You were not lying when you said she could cook," he smiled, watching her as she returned to the kitchen. He watched as she walked past her husband, pausing briefly for a hug, wondering if she could sail. He was looking for a new cook on the Swallow and wondered if she could be tempted away from Le Coq.
***
Later that night Oran and Catherine lay quietly in bed, reviewing what they had heard. "So he is not aboard the Swallow," she sighed. "I suppose that would have been asking too much."
Oran sighed. "Don't worry, Jack will survive - they say he's been through worse. We know he is being held by somebody called Louis and that it is somewhere with no daylight. we just have to discover the rest!"
"But no daylight?" Catherine shuddered, starting to cry. "Why no daylight?"
"Ssshhh!" Oran put his arms around her. "It will be alright Kitty, we will find him!" He sighed, wishing in his heart that he did not feel such a traitor. He took a deep breath, sitting up. "Kitty, please don't take this the wrong way. you are a very beautiful woman, Jack is exceedingly lucky. but I think I need to sleep on the floor tonight."
"Oran?" She sat up sharply, looking at him in confusion.
As he climbed out of bed he leaned across, kissing her full on the lips. "You are my Captain's wife Kitty and, at the moment, I honestly wish you weren't."
"But."
He stroked her cheek tenderly. "Go to sleep Kitty. I'll wake you in the morning."
"Oran! Don't be daft!"
"Kitty. I am a man, not a saint - please!"
Biting her lip she nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me Oran," she smiled, climbing out of the bed and padding across the floor to hug him. "But you know I'd never break my vows to Jack."
He hugged her back. "I know Kitty, I know. so I'll just have to get over it." He smiled ruefully. "Go on, back to bed before you get cold." He swatted her retreating backside, sighing as he settled down beneath the thin blanket. "Goodnight Kitty!"
Mulberryblueshimmer - hopefully you won't be so unsure of Oran after this.
***
Mid-March
Oran and Catherine worked at Le Coq for two and a half months before the Swallow returned to New Orleans. The first they knew of it was when the door of the tavern was thrown open over an hour prior to opening time. Catherine, mopping the floor of the bar, raised the mop in shock.
"Sorry Monsieur, we are closed." At least her accent and fluency had improved in the time they had been in the city.
"You are open now." He stepped inside, booted feet trailing dust inside.
"I am sorry - we are closed." She moved to stand before him, blocking him from entering further.
The man kicked over her bucket, spilling the soapy water across the floor. "You are open!"
Hearing the noise, Oran walked slowly down the stairs. "Catherine, is there a problem?"
"This gentleman does not seem to understand we are closed."
"Stupid woman! Where is Fécamp?" he demanded, pushing his way past Catherine.
Slipping on the wet floor, she fell backwards, banging her head hard against a table. With a roar, Oran charged at the man, knocking him to the floor with the force of his attack.
Paul Fécamp rushed into the bar, amazed to see Oran and the man trading blows for all they were worth. Although the stranger was a stout man, Oran was younger and taller. "Arnaud?" The man looked up, in time to catch a fist full in the face. "Arnaud Lucon! Stop! Oran, this man is known!"
Reluctantly Oran stepped away from the stranger, turning to face Fécamp as he strode towards Catherine. "He hurt my wife!"
Paul Fécamp glanced to where Catherine lay groaning as she tried to rise. The door swung open a second time, only just missing her prone form.
"My, my Paul - you do keep an interesting tavern!" A tall blonde man stepped into the bar, reaching down to offer Catherine his hand. "Honestly Arnaud, I asked you to speak nicely!" Still dazed, he helped her to her feet. "Madame, are you hurt?"
Catherine wavered alarmingly as she picked up her mop. "Nothing a leash on your pet animal would not cure Monsieur!" she blinked, trying to focus her eyes before swinging the mop hard against the groin of her attacker. He fell to the floor, groaning in agony. "And perhaps a muzzle!" Using the mop to steady herself she staggered across to Oran, who put his arms protectively around her.
The blonde man laughed. "Your staff have improved Paul - do you have any decent brandy in this dive?" Stepping over the prone form of Arnaud, he threw his arm around the shoulders of Fécamp.
"Ah, Jean Claude, I hope Arnaud has not hurt her for you should taste her cooking! It is divine, even if she is English!"
His arm dropped. "And what is an English woman doing in New Orleans?" Jean Claude turned to face her, eyes narrowed, considering, calculating, cold.
"She is my wife," Oran defended, "and she is of no concern to you!" He tightened his grip on Catherine.
Jean Claude shrugged as Fécamp slapped him on the back, but his eyes did not leave her. "Come, come, let me find that brandy and you can tell me of the latest terrors that the Swallow has inflicted upon the British ships!"
Oran hoped his face held, but was glad that Catherine was cradled in his arms. She went white, her legs sagging.
"Monsieur, is your wife unwell?" Jean Claude was still watching her carefully.
"She is a little dizzy from the blow to her head - I'll take her upstairs for a while." Gently, keeping her facing away from the man they now knew was Lact, he helped her upstairs.
***
"Kitty! Kitty! Damn it, look at me!" She still looked dazed from the blow to her head and was far too white for his liking. "Kitty!"
She groaned, clutching her head. "I feel si." Oran was eternally grateful that she managed to turn her head.
Holding her chin, carefully, between his hands he looked into her eyes - eventually satisfied she was not concussed. "Come on, let's get you into bed. I think you need a lie down for an hour or so. I'll clean this up!" He gently tucked her into the bed before opening the window and going in search of the mop.
Jean Claude Lact looked up as he returned to the bar. "Is your wife feeling better?"
Oran picked up the mop and began mopping up the water from the overturned bucket. "No Monsieur, she has just been sick from the knock on her head. I don't think she should work this night."
"Catherine cannot work?" Paul Fécamp looked up sharply. "That is disastrous!" He turned angrily to Lact. "Keep Arnaud under better control! She is a good worker and it will serve you right if the cooking will have to be mine tonight!"
Oran finished mopping, walking to the kitchen to get fresh water to mop his own floor. "I've told her to lie down for an hour, I will see how she is after that." he offered.
***
Catherine was able to work that night, although both Oran and Fécamp kept an eye on her. Almost the entire crew of the Swallow were in and they listened carefully to the conversation for any clues of Jack's whereabouts.
Luckily Lact liked to brag to his friend and they soon discovered what had happened to Jack. "Yes Paul - he was so drunk he could hardly stand. A five year old girl could have taken him!" He laughed. "His crew were little better, I had a two day head start before they even noticed he was missing!"
Paul Fécamp chuckled, although he had little idea who Jack Sparrow was other than a British pirate. "So, what did you do? Kill him, maroon him, what?"
"I took him up river, to Louis!"
"Not the."
"Yes!" Lact laughed again, a laugh that Catherine hated. "He will never see daylight again!" Although she was careful to keep her face neutral as she handed them their dinner, her heart quailed. Where could Jack be if he would never see daylight?
"Will there be any thing else Paul?" she asked, praying to escape quickly.
"No, merci Catherine."
Lact was looking carefully at the food before him, one eyebrow raised. "You were not lying when you said she could cook," he smiled, watching her as she returned to the kitchen. He watched as she walked past her husband, pausing briefly for a hug, wondering if she could sail. He was looking for a new cook on the Swallow and wondered if she could be tempted away from Le Coq.
***
Later that night Oran and Catherine lay quietly in bed, reviewing what they had heard. "So he is not aboard the Swallow," she sighed. "I suppose that would have been asking too much."
Oran sighed. "Don't worry, Jack will survive - they say he's been through worse. We know he is being held by somebody called Louis and that it is somewhere with no daylight. we just have to discover the rest!"
"But no daylight?" Catherine shuddered, starting to cry. "Why no daylight?"
"Ssshhh!" Oran put his arms around her. "It will be alright Kitty, we will find him!" He sighed, wishing in his heart that he did not feel such a traitor. He took a deep breath, sitting up. "Kitty, please don't take this the wrong way. you are a very beautiful woman, Jack is exceedingly lucky. but I think I need to sleep on the floor tonight."
"Oran?" She sat up sharply, looking at him in confusion.
As he climbed out of bed he leaned across, kissing her full on the lips. "You are my Captain's wife Kitty and, at the moment, I honestly wish you weren't."
"But."
He stroked her cheek tenderly. "Go to sleep Kitty. I'll wake you in the morning."
"Oran! Don't be daft!"
"Kitty. I am a man, not a saint - please!"
Biting her lip she nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me Oran," she smiled, climbing out of the bed and padding across the floor to hug him. "But you know I'd never break my vows to Jack."
He hugged her back. "I know Kitty, I know. so I'll just have to get over it." He smiled ruefully. "Go on, back to bed before you get cold." He swatted her retreating backside, sighing as he settled down beneath the thin blanket. "Goodnight Kitty!"