I'm back! Sorry about the serious lack of updates... I haven't abandoned
this fic! I just... haven't been working diligently on it. This chapter was
harder to write than the others, as the tone is more serious, but there
will be more Jack-silliness soon, I believe, so don't give up on me.. Heh.
Anyway, for what it's worth... Chapter Six:
(Oh, and Jack still isn't mine.)
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Jack and the pile of unwashed dishes were having a staring contest. Jack was fairly certain he was winning, as the dishes were not quite fortunate enough to possess eyes. The baggy, off-white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows but he had not yet plunged his arms into the soapy water.
Abruptly, a woman placed a few more plates and mugs into the basin with a clatter and Jack blinked as the water splashed him slightly. "You'd better start working on that," said the woman, walking off with a shake of her head. "That pile's only going to get bigger."
Jack raised a mournful eyebrow and his shoulders drooped. Perhaps the dishes were winning after all. He glared at them threateningly, shaking his head slowly.
Bethany Thompson leaned the back of her head against the wall, eyes closed, arms folded against her chest. She had opened the door to the kitchen and shouted for Jack and now she stood, the pirate shifting uncomfortably at her side, as they waited for their son to emerge.
They didn't wait long. The door opened and the boy stepped out, attempting to scratch his forehead with the back of his wrist, his hands and forearms covered in soap suds. Some suds had somehow found their way into his nearly- chin-length hair and onto his neck. Beth smiled despite herself at the sight, then swallowed painfully, afraid that she might cry again.
"Cap'n!" Jack cried gleefully, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of the older man. Hawk grinned back at him, revealing a few golden teeth. "What are you doing 'ere?" Jack noticed his mother hovering near them and glanced back and forth between the two with narrowed eyes. "What's going on? Why was my mum talking to you?"
The captain coughed awkwardly and sent Beth a questioning glance. Her eyes did not meet his however. She licked her lips, hesitating, equally unsure of how to begin. Jack turned to her, eyebrows raised in helpless confusion. "Mum?"
She sighed and placed both hands on Jack's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Jack... This man came 'ere to talk to me today 'bout something very important... Ya see.. Hawk 'ere, as I understand it, is rather in need of... of some 'ands on 'is ship... an' 'e thinks 'e could do with a cabin boy... and that you might do an 'alf-decent job. Ain't that right, Mr. Hawk?"
Maynard blinked. She wasn't going to tell him? "Aye," he said, recovering. "Aye, that's right. What say you, Jack? Ready to try out yer sea legs?"
A great grin split across the boy's face. It was more than he could have ever dreamed! – well, perhaps not; he could dream an awful lot. Still, it seemed the best thing that had ever happened to him. To sail away from this place and this life, to have the whole ocean as his home, to be off for adventure with a crew of pirates... Suddenly he remembered his mother was still standing there and his eyes flickered to hers uncertainly. Would she even let him go? She never let him do anything; she always wanted him to work. His eyes fell to the floor.
Bethany watched her son's reaction to the proposition sadly and not without some bitterness. She knew by his expression of elation that she had lost him. He was just like his father; he would never remain anywhere. The wanderlust was in his blood. He could never truly be her son; he was pirate, and that would come first. That was what it came down to. He would go, and the next time she saw him, she probably wouldn't recognize him.
She was surprised when he paused and looked to her as if asking for permission. She watched his gaze drop despondently and sighed. "Oh, stop that pouting, boy. It's not as if I can really tell you 'no'. It's what you'll do regardless, at some point anyway."
Jack raised his head, his face lighting up again at these words. Feeling that saying "thank you" would be inadequate for expressing his feelings, he sprung forward, wrapping his arms around her. "I'll come back, Mum, I promise."
She didn't return the hug, her arms pinned at her sides by his overzealous embrace. "Get goin' now," she said sternly, fighting back the tears. "I'll manage perfectly fine on my own—not as if ya did much of anythin' 'round 'ere anyway... Jack, yer soppin' wet, Jack!"
Jack pulled away, smiling at her a little, then turned to Maynard, who had turned away and taken to observing the few people seated in "The Three Dead Men" that day, feeling somewhat intrusive.
"Ready, mate?" he asked when Jack approached him. Jack nodded resolutely and the two walked out from behind the counter of the bar together.
"Take care of yerself, ya hear!" called his mother suddenly and Jack gave her a lop-sided grin in response, then turned and walked away.
Bethany hugged herself tightly as she watched him go. After a moment, she lifted her hands to her face for observation. They were covered in soap suds.
Jack and the pile of unwashed dishes were having a staring contest. Jack was fairly certain he was winning, as the dishes were not quite fortunate enough to possess eyes. The baggy, off-white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows but he had not yet plunged his arms into the soapy water.
Abruptly, a woman placed a few more plates and mugs into the basin with a clatter and Jack blinked as the water splashed him slightly. "You'd better start working on that," said the woman, walking off with a shake of her head. "That pile's only going to get bigger."
Jack raised a mournful eyebrow and his shoulders drooped. Perhaps the dishes were winning after all. He glared at them threateningly, shaking his head slowly.
Bethany Thompson leaned the back of her head against the wall, eyes closed, arms folded against her chest. She had opened the door to the kitchen and shouted for Jack and now she stood, the pirate shifting uncomfortably at her side, as they waited for their son to emerge.
They didn't wait long. The door opened and the boy stepped out, attempting to scratch his forehead with the back of his wrist, his hands and forearms covered in soap suds. Some suds had somehow found their way into his nearly- chin-length hair and onto his neck. Beth smiled despite herself at the sight, then swallowed painfully, afraid that she might cry again.
"Cap'n!" Jack cried gleefully, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of the older man. Hawk grinned back at him, revealing a few golden teeth. "What are you doing 'ere?" Jack noticed his mother hovering near them and glanced back and forth between the two with narrowed eyes. "What's going on? Why was my mum talking to you?"
The captain coughed awkwardly and sent Beth a questioning glance. Her eyes did not meet his however. She licked her lips, hesitating, equally unsure of how to begin. Jack turned to her, eyebrows raised in helpless confusion. "Mum?"
She sighed and placed both hands on Jack's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Jack... This man came 'ere to talk to me today 'bout something very important... Ya see.. Hawk 'ere, as I understand it, is rather in need of... of some 'ands on 'is ship... an' 'e thinks 'e could do with a cabin boy... and that you might do an 'alf-decent job. Ain't that right, Mr. Hawk?"
Maynard blinked. She wasn't going to tell him? "Aye," he said, recovering. "Aye, that's right. What say you, Jack? Ready to try out yer sea legs?"
A great grin split across the boy's face. It was more than he could have ever dreamed! – well, perhaps not; he could dream an awful lot. Still, it seemed the best thing that had ever happened to him. To sail away from this place and this life, to have the whole ocean as his home, to be off for adventure with a crew of pirates... Suddenly he remembered his mother was still standing there and his eyes flickered to hers uncertainly. Would she even let him go? She never let him do anything; she always wanted him to work. His eyes fell to the floor.
Bethany watched her son's reaction to the proposition sadly and not without some bitterness. She knew by his expression of elation that she had lost him. He was just like his father; he would never remain anywhere. The wanderlust was in his blood. He could never truly be her son; he was pirate, and that would come first. That was what it came down to. He would go, and the next time she saw him, she probably wouldn't recognize him.
She was surprised when he paused and looked to her as if asking for permission. She watched his gaze drop despondently and sighed. "Oh, stop that pouting, boy. It's not as if I can really tell you 'no'. It's what you'll do regardless, at some point anyway."
Jack raised his head, his face lighting up again at these words. Feeling that saying "thank you" would be inadequate for expressing his feelings, he sprung forward, wrapping his arms around her. "I'll come back, Mum, I promise."
She didn't return the hug, her arms pinned at her sides by his overzealous embrace. "Get goin' now," she said sternly, fighting back the tears. "I'll manage perfectly fine on my own—not as if ya did much of anythin' 'round 'ere anyway... Jack, yer soppin' wet, Jack!"
Jack pulled away, smiling at her a little, then turned to Maynard, who had turned away and taken to observing the few people seated in "The Three Dead Men" that day, feeling somewhat intrusive.
"Ready, mate?" he asked when Jack approached him. Jack nodded resolutely and the two walked out from behind the counter of the bar together.
"Take care of yerself, ya hear!" called his mother suddenly and Jack gave her a lop-sided grin in response, then turned and walked away.
Bethany hugged herself tightly as she watched him go. After a moment, she lifted her hands to her face for observation. They were covered in soap suds.