(disclaimer and notes in 1st chapter)
~~~~~~~~
Whatever accord they had come close to reaching that night, affairs returned to their normal state afterwards. Another two months slowly passed, as if something – or someone – was holding time fast, keeping it trapped beneath a jar.
He noticed everything about her, though she didn't know it – what she ate, how she slept, when she bathed, the twists and coils of her upswept hair. When she began rising early in the morning and disappearing into the privy, it did not escape him. He pretended to be asleep when she would return, shivering, tears falling silently on her pillow. As more than a week passed and she still didn't tell him, he began to wonder how long he would be able to hide his knowledge.
Internally, he was panicking. He knew he ought to be feeling the utmost joy and excitement, but it simply felt like too soon. They had been married for long enough, but they scarcely knew each other – it was getting better, day by day, but they were still virtual strangers to each other. By no stretch of the imagination were they ready to raise a child. And he worried, also, about his wife's health. While there was nothing physically wrong with her, she was young, and she seemed so small and delicate, and giving birth was dangerous for any woman. He began trying to get her to eat more.
"Are you trying to make me fat and matronly?" she inquired of him one morning at breakfast as he was urging another scone on her. Her tone was light and teasing, but he didn't miss the sharpness of her eyes.
"I am not," he replied doggedly. "It's just that healthy eating habits are very important. In the Caribbean," he added, feeling silly. "It's...the sun. Its extra power leeches away calories."
Her fork dropped onto her plate with a clatter. "You know." She stared at him. "Don't you?"
He sighed and said dully, "I know nothing that you haven't told me." She knew he was lying. He didn't care.
"Then I shall tell you," said Elizabeth, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm going to have a baby."
He had known, but hearing it from her quiet voice was something else entirely. Nearly knocking over his water glass, he crossed the room to kneel beside her chair and hug her. Her arms closed around him awkwardly and she rested her chin on the top of his head.
"Please, Elizabeth," he murmured against her breast, "tell me you're happy about this." He drew back to look at her and she forced a watery smile onto her face.
"Of course I am," she said. He pursed his lips, and her smile strengthened after a single waver. "I'm happy, James, I just feel a little ill in the mornings."
He kissed her cheek, needing her assurance to reassure himself. He hadn't gotten it, and he didn't get it in the weeks that followed. They both watched as her body took on a softly swelling shape, nearly invisible when she was clothed. He would rest his hand on her bare flesh and try to feel ready to be a father to the child within her womb. Then they would look at each other, and look quickly away again.
She went wandering the halls one night. He followed after a few minutes, finding her on the balcony in the third guest room, staring out at the sea. Her hands rested on the faint curve of her belly; she jumped as he came up behind her and covered them with his own.
"I wish you would tell me what troubles you," he said.
She turned, her eyes large and sad. "I would not know how to say it."
"Try, please," he said, his voice a desperate whisper. "If we can't talk to each other..."
Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips. "You'd think I'm a horrible person," she warned.
"I could never do that. I swear it."
Anger sparked in her face. He wasn't prepared for that, but if it got her to open up, he wouldn't complain.
"Fine," she snapped. "You really want to know what's troubling me, James? What's constantly worrying me? It's a great fear about this child inside me. I'm absolutely terrified of my own unborn offspring!" Her voice had risen in a shout by the time she was done.
Norrington blinked at her. "Thank God," he gasped. "I thought I was the only one!"
Elizabeth stared at him with her mouth hanging open, looking nothing like the proper lady she normally resembled.
"I don't know anything *about* babies," he continued, the opportunity to finally voice his fears making his words come out on a rush. "I've never been around them – I visited my cousin Mary's children in London, but they were five and seven the first time I ever saw them –"
"How are you supposed to keep one clean?" Elizabeth demanded. "I would drown it if I tried to bathe it, I know I would!"
"They cry all the time, and the smell –"
"Can't go anywhere for fear the baby will need to be fed –"
"We won't have a full night's sleep for a year –"
"And I'll *never* get my figure back!" Elizabeth wailed, her fists clenching at her sides.
Norrington couldn't help it; she looked so like the tragic maiden. He burst out laughing.
She glared at him, offended, and planted her hands on her hips. That only made him laugh harder. Elizabeth gnawed on the insides of her cheeks, trying to hold onto her tantrum and fight off a grin, but it was a losing battle. She gave in with an ungainly splutter that only set him off again. They leaned onto each other for support, finally collapsing onto the stone bench in their twin fits of mirth.
"A fine pair we make," he gasped out, when he could breathe normally again.
Elizabeth giggled into her hand. "You – you're a mighty officer of the British navy with years of experience in battle, and I've fought undead pirates and helped defeat an ancient curse, and here we are, afraid of a nameless creature currently no bigger than a hen's egg."
They looked at each other and the laughter died away. Elizabeth's eyes were serious again, Norrington saw, but they were also completely honest, and he was emboldened.
"We're having a child, ready or not," she told him solemnly.
"I know." He put an arm across her shoulders and she didn't flinch away. "And it is frightening, but...we'll make it through. Somehow."
"Together," she added, half-hopeful and half-confident.
He closed his eyes and kissed her temple with a reverence he hoped she could feel. "Always," he promised softly.
"For better or for worse," she said in a sing-song voice. "As the priest had us recite."
"Yes."
They were quiet for a moment before she asked, "Any burdens you want to surrender, husband mine?"
He hesitated and she prodded him in the ribs with a sharp finger. "Come on now, it'll make you feel better."
"There is...one thing that concerns me," he admitted haltingly.
"Speak."
"When we make love," he explained in a quiet voice, "it's as though you aren't there at all." She went rigid in his arms and he knew she regretted asking. "Listen to me, Elizabeth," he begged as she turned her face away. It was too late to take it back now. "I – I want to please you, but I don't know how, and you won't help me."
She looked down at her hands and then back up at him. That unfamiliar vulnerability was in her eyes and it made him achingly tender towards her, but he didn't dare touch her before she spoke. He knew the desire for flight still lurked within her, and he would do nothing to provoke it.
"I hate not knowing things," she confessed, her voice breaking. "And I don't know what – what to *do*, when I'm with you, except lie there and be quiet, and so I just figure it isn't worth the trouble to even try."
He leaned back against the balcony, berating himself for being an idiot. Of course she wouldn't have told him. That wasn't who Elizabeth was; she didn't admit her faults, and she didn't admit to ignorance. It was what made her so stubborn, and it was also what made her brave.
"All this time," he muttered. "All this time, and it was a simple matter of refusing to learn from one another."
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.
Standing up, he took her by the hand. She trotted behind him as he led the way back to their bedroom. Once there, he ignored the question in her eyes and lit the lantern on the night stand.
"Tonight," he said resolutely, "we leave the light be."
She sat down on the bed, still confused as he slid his hands under her nightshift. At her nervous glance to the lantern, he cupped her cheek in his hand and said, "I want to look at you."
Swallowing, she nodded and lifted her arms over her head for him to pull the garment free. He lowered her gently onto the pillows and merely, as he had said, looked. The soft light shone on her skin, turning it to silken gold and casting shadows on the hollows of her body.
Elizabeth shifted, uncomfortable under his frank gaze. "What?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?"
Norrington shook his head. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, and she smiled, her lids dropping down over her eyes in pleased embarrassment. He lowered his mouth to her throat, one hand holding himself steady above her and the other tucking between her legs. She tensed, as she always did, and he stopped.
"Relax," he coaxed gently. "This will never work if you can't relax."
"I'm *trying*," she hissed. "It's easier said than done, with you sitting there looking at me like you're starving and I'm the world's largest, juiciest hunk of beef!"
He choked on a laugh and kissed her, long and deep and well, until she was languid beneath him. He reached between her thighs again, and when she let him, he began to try out some of the techniques that crossed his mind late at night, while she was asleep beside him and he was dying to touch her.
Her eyes flew open and her mouth broke away from his as she gasped in shock.
Apparently at least one of his guesses had turned out to be right.
"Do – that – again" Elizabeth breathed, nails digging into his biceps. He obliged, wringing a moan from her this time. Next came a whimper as he integrated something new, then another moan, three quick gasps, a muffled curse that would have scandalized him if he hadn't been so fixated on the way her muscles were clenching around his hand.
She bit his shoulder and he stopped keeping track of the sounds she was making.
When she was finished he repeated the exercise, this time using another part of his body to substitute for his fingers. By then, his wife had rendered herself hoarse – a good thing, as his ears were sure to split if they were subjected to any more abuse.
It was going to be a long night.
~~~~~~~~
Thanks for the feedback :) thalia: I've become quite addicted to pirategasm, and I will probably be posting my fics there sometime in the near future. FF.N can only go so far, after all. Thanks for reccing the Norrington community, I'll look there as well.
~~~~~~~~
Whatever accord they had come close to reaching that night, affairs returned to their normal state afterwards. Another two months slowly passed, as if something – or someone – was holding time fast, keeping it trapped beneath a jar.
He noticed everything about her, though she didn't know it – what she ate, how she slept, when she bathed, the twists and coils of her upswept hair. When she began rising early in the morning and disappearing into the privy, it did not escape him. He pretended to be asleep when she would return, shivering, tears falling silently on her pillow. As more than a week passed and she still didn't tell him, he began to wonder how long he would be able to hide his knowledge.
Internally, he was panicking. He knew he ought to be feeling the utmost joy and excitement, but it simply felt like too soon. They had been married for long enough, but they scarcely knew each other – it was getting better, day by day, but they were still virtual strangers to each other. By no stretch of the imagination were they ready to raise a child. And he worried, also, about his wife's health. While there was nothing physically wrong with her, she was young, and she seemed so small and delicate, and giving birth was dangerous for any woman. He began trying to get her to eat more.
"Are you trying to make me fat and matronly?" she inquired of him one morning at breakfast as he was urging another scone on her. Her tone was light and teasing, but he didn't miss the sharpness of her eyes.
"I am not," he replied doggedly. "It's just that healthy eating habits are very important. In the Caribbean," he added, feeling silly. "It's...the sun. Its extra power leeches away calories."
Her fork dropped onto her plate with a clatter. "You know." She stared at him. "Don't you?"
He sighed and said dully, "I know nothing that you haven't told me." She knew he was lying. He didn't care.
"Then I shall tell you," said Elizabeth, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm going to have a baby."
He had known, but hearing it from her quiet voice was something else entirely. Nearly knocking over his water glass, he crossed the room to kneel beside her chair and hug her. Her arms closed around him awkwardly and she rested her chin on the top of his head.
"Please, Elizabeth," he murmured against her breast, "tell me you're happy about this." He drew back to look at her and she forced a watery smile onto her face.
"Of course I am," she said. He pursed his lips, and her smile strengthened after a single waver. "I'm happy, James, I just feel a little ill in the mornings."
He kissed her cheek, needing her assurance to reassure himself. He hadn't gotten it, and he didn't get it in the weeks that followed. They both watched as her body took on a softly swelling shape, nearly invisible when she was clothed. He would rest his hand on her bare flesh and try to feel ready to be a father to the child within her womb. Then they would look at each other, and look quickly away again.
She went wandering the halls one night. He followed after a few minutes, finding her on the balcony in the third guest room, staring out at the sea. Her hands rested on the faint curve of her belly; she jumped as he came up behind her and covered them with his own.
"I wish you would tell me what troubles you," he said.
She turned, her eyes large and sad. "I would not know how to say it."
"Try, please," he said, his voice a desperate whisper. "If we can't talk to each other..."
Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips. "You'd think I'm a horrible person," she warned.
"I could never do that. I swear it."
Anger sparked in her face. He wasn't prepared for that, but if it got her to open up, he wouldn't complain.
"Fine," she snapped. "You really want to know what's troubling me, James? What's constantly worrying me? It's a great fear about this child inside me. I'm absolutely terrified of my own unborn offspring!" Her voice had risen in a shout by the time she was done.
Norrington blinked at her. "Thank God," he gasped. "I thought I was the only one!"
Elizabeth stared at him with her mouth hanging open, looking nothing like the proper lady she normally resembled.
"I don't know anything *about* babies," he continued, the opportunity to finally voice his fears making his words come out on a rush. "I've never been around them – I visited my cousin Mary's children in London, but they were five and seven the first time I ever saw them –"
"How are you supposed to keep one clean?" Elizabeth demanded. "I would drown it if I tried to bathe it, I know I would!"
"They cry all the time, and the smell –"
"Can't go anywhere for fear the baby will need to be fed –"
"We won't have a full night's sleep for a year –"
"And I'll *never* get my figure back!" Elizabeth wailed, her fists clenching at her sides.
Norrington couldn't help it; she looked so like the tragic maiden. He burst out laughing.
She glared at him, offended, and planted her hands on her hips. That only made him laugh harder. Elizabeth gnawed on the insides of her cheeks, trying to hold onto her tantrum and fight off a grin, but it was a losing battle. She gave in with an ungainly splutter that only set him off again. They leaned onto each other for support, finally collapsing onto the stone bench in their twin fits of mirth.
"A fine pair we make," he gasped out, when he could breathe normally again.
Elizabeth giggled into her hand. "You – you're a mighty officer of the British navy with years of experience in battle, and I've fought undead pirates and helped defeat an ancient curse, and here we are, afraid of a nameless creature currently no bigger than a hen's egg."
They looked at each other and the laughter died away. Elizabeth's eyes were serious again, Norrington saw, but they were also completely honest, and he was emboldened.
"We're having a child, ready or not," she told him solemnly.
"I know." He put an arm across her shoulders and she didn't flinch away. "And it is frightening, but...we'll make it through. Somehow."
"Together," she added, half-hopeful and half-confident.
He closed his eyes and kissed her temple with a reverence he hoped she could feel. "Always," he promised softly.
"For better or for worse," she said in a sing-song voice. "As the priest had us recite."
"Yes."
They were quiet for a moment before she asked, "Any burdens you want to surrender, husband mine?"
He hesitated and she prodded him in the ribs with a sharp finger. "Come on now, it'll make you feel better."
"There is...one thing that concerns me," he admitted haltingly.
"Speak."
"When we make love," he explained in a quiet voice, "it's as though you aren't there at all." She went rigid in his arms and he knew she regretted asking. "Listen to me, Elizabeth," he begged as she turned her face away. It was too late to take it back now. "I – I want to please you, but I don't know how, and you won't help me."
She looked down at her hands and then back up at him. That unfamiliar vulnerability was in her eyes and it made him achingly tender towards her, but he didn't dare touch her before she spoke. He knew the desire for flight still lurked within her, and he would do nothing to provoke it.
"I hate not knowing things," she confessed, her voice breaking. "And I don't know what – what to *do*, when I'm with you, except lie there and be quiet, and so I just figure it isn't worth the trouble to even try."
He leaned back against the balcony, berating himself for being an idiot. Of course she wouldn't have told him. That wasn't who Elizabeth was; she didn't admit her faults, and she didn't admit to ignorance. It was what made her so stubborn, and it was also what made her brave.
"All this time," he muttered. "All this time, and it was a simple matter of refusing to learn from one another."
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.
Standing up, he took her by the hand. She trotted behind him as he led the way back to their bedroom. Once there, he ignored the question in her eyes and lit the lantern on the night stand.
"Tonight," he said resolutely, "we leave the light be."
She sat down on the bed, still confused as he slid his hands under her nightshift. At her nervous glance to the lantern, he cupped her cheek in his hand and said, "I want to look at you."
Swallowing, she nodded and lifted her arms over her head for him to pull the garment free. He lowered her gently onto the pillows and merely, as he had said, looked. The soft light shone on her skin, turning it to silken gold and casting shadows on the hollows of her body.
Elizabeth shifted, uncomfortable under his frank gaze. "What?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?"
Norrington shook his head. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, and she smiled, her lids dropping down over her eyes in pleased embarrassment. He lowered his mouth to her throat, one hand holding himself steady above her and the other tucking between her legs. She tensed, as she always did, and he stopped.
"Relax," he coaxed gently. "This will never work if you can't relax."
"I'm *trying*," she hissed. "It's easier said than done, with you sitting there looking at me like you're starving and I'm the world's largest, juiciest hunk of beef!"
He choked on a laugh and kissed her, long and deep and well, until she was languid beneath him. He reached between her thighs again, and when she let him, he began to try out some of the techniques that crossed his mind late at night, while she was asleep beside him and he was dying to touch her.
Her eyes flew open and her mouth broke away from his as she gasped in shock.
Apparently at least one of his guesses had turned out to be right.
"Do – that – again" Elizabeth breathed, nails digging into his biceps. He obliged, wringing a moan from her this time. Next came a whimper as he integrated something new, then another moan, three quick gasps, a muffled curse that would have scandalized him if he hadn't been so fixated on the way her muscles were clenching around his hand.
She bit his shoulder and he stopped keeping track of the sounds she was making.
When she was finished he repeated the exercise, this time using another part of his body to substitute for his fingers. By then, his wife had rendered herself hoarse – a good thing, as his ears were sure to split if they were subjected to any more abuse.
It was going to be a long night.
~~~~~~~~
Thanks for the feedback :) thalia: I've become quite addicted to pirategasm, and I will probably be posting my fics there sometime in the near future. FF.N can only go so far, after all. Thanks for reccing the Norrington community, I'll look there as well.