Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 25. Less Than Apologies
Summary: Avoidance and other occurrences.
Timeline: Wednesday, July 21, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

They had made an art of avoiding one another. No words had been exchanged between them for some weeks in fact. Orders were pass from Jack to Matthew through Gibbs, and there was not a crewmember who failed to notice that they were never on the same deck at the same time, never mind in the same room. No one dared to ask the reason for their sudden falling out, as even mentioning the other's name to one of them would earn a steely glare. Jack, as far as Matthew was concerned, was only (and this grudgingly) "the captain", and Jack would acknowledge Matthew only as "the second mate."

No one asked why their apparent friendship had deteriorated over night, although neither of the pair would have had any explanation. It had started simply enough. Matthew, insulted by Jack's one sided monologue she'd overheard, had decided to avoid him until he redeemed himself in her eyes. As time passed, his words which at first had rung so cruelly in her ears, had faded from her memory. Eventually, she'd forgotten the incident entirely, but continued avoiding him.

Jack, for himself, has been plagued by dreams. Identifying Matthew as their cause, he had decided to avoid her until the dreams (more accurately described as nightmares) stopped. Unlike Miriam, who avoided Jack at first because of something he had done, Jack steered clear of her because he could not understand her, and was beginning to be confronted, because of her, which a great deal more things he did not understand. He had not had a nightmare since he'd taken back his ship, until she'd shown up. They had, after a time, ceased, but he'd become ingrained enough in the habit of avoidance that he simply forgot to stop.

It took a while, but each eventually noticed that, not only were they avoiding the other, but the other was avoiding them. This had become their reason for the continued circle of evasion, the childish logic of "if he is avoiding me, I will avoid him, too." If either had been more spiteful, he might have decided to force his presence on the other, and break the ongoing cycle that way. However, neither of them were given to spite in this particular incident, and so nothing happened.

Besides that, the Pearl continued sailing and plundering much as she had for all of recent memory. Jack was still jovial and dazedly insane, and his hair was still the same knotted mess that it had always been. Some suspected he might have been drinking more than he had at one time, but knew better than to discuss it. Matthew still mingled with the crew and laughed and he still, as he had since his shoulder had been injured and Morgan had been introduced, spent much of his time occupying the ship's cat.

-

She had been counting the days, impatient as a child who cannot wait until Christmas. Eight weeks, the doctor had said, but six at the least. Miriam had waited eight as she ought, but when she woke on that final morning, the bandages would come off. She stretched her good arm, feeling the ache in her left arm to do the same. Beneath the bandages, her shoulder felt whole, mended. Since they'd first been knotted, the wraps had gradually slackened. Atrophy from lack of use had, she knew, weakened the muscles of her arm and shoulder, and she would not be as strong in her left arm as her right. But she could feel that it was healed, and the strength could be rebuilt.

With trembling fingers, Miriam unbuttoned her coat with her one hand, and then set about untying the knot at her neck that held the entire arm in place. When it was undone, one-handed still and nervous she unravelled each layer of bandage, until she could cast the entire thing on the floor at the side of her bed. From the nearby side table, Morgan watched curiously as her mistress, who she'd only ever known as one-armed, lifted her arm cautiously, wincing until she could stretch it no further. She grinned despite the pain of the cramped and unused muscles. Matthew was whole again.

She, with two hands now instead one, went about unfastening the front hooks of the corset she had been forced to wear for the past eight weeks. It was only when it was cast away that she gasped at what had become of her body. Her breasts had grown, but that was not what bothered it. It was the roundness of her stomach the surprised her, it's seemingly sudden tendency to bulge.

"Showing," she said pathetically to herself, staring at the ceiling to try and keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks, "I'm showing." For weeks she had been oblivious to the changes in her body, determined to ignore the symptoms of her pregnancy, as if she could wish the child within her womb out of existence. It had not worked.

It's not that I didn't believe Jack, she thought, I didn't think he was lying. I just hoped he was wrong. She knew she could not have just suddenly gained weight. She cursed her bad luck, cursed the baby she would be forced to have, cursed herself for the carelessness that had led to all of it. More than that, she cursed the loneliness in which she was forced to carry this child, trying constantly to play a role while inside her that thing was growing. She would be forced to away from the ship soon, to sneak off into utter solitude, to live a lie greater than the one she was already living. She had no one to confide to, no one to whom she could spill her secrets.

Words rang in her ears, from a memory. Everyone has to tell someone, because if they don't, it will eat them alive. Now you can tell me, or you can't. But if you don't, you can't tell anyone else; there isn't anyone else to tell. Resigned, she reached for the bandages she'd disregarded and left lying on the floor, and began to tie them around her chest to hold it in. These strips of cloth, she knew, would not hold everything in: not her stomach, nor her child, nor her pain.

-

'Captain Sparrow frowned, brushing knotted tendrils of his hair out of his face and over his shoulder. He was reviewing the ship's inventory, quill in hand, marking on a separate sheet of paper supplies they would soon need. Running low, he thought, damn it all to hell. His cursing was interrupted by a sharp knock on the cabin's door, and his frown deepened. He did not expect to be disturbed this morning, or any morning, especially since he had ordered that no one should even approach his door before the sun was at it's highest in the sky.

"Come in," he said gruffly, letting his annoyance show in his voice. He hoped to hear a muffled, "sorry, cap'n" and the sound of receding boots, but instead the double doors creaked open, closed and locked.

He stood and turned away from the desk, and standing just in front of the closed door he saw someone he did not expect. It was Matthew, dressed in red shirt and waistcoat, his cutlass on his belt at his right side as if his left arm could use it. His arms we folded across his chest, a coat (my coat, Jack realised) folded over them.

Holding the coat out to Jack with his right arm, Matthew said, "As I no longer need this, I thought it might return it to you." Jack took it, seemingly suspicious, and draped it over the back of the nearest chair.

"Thank you, sailor," he said crisply, and waited for his second mate to leave. Matthew stood there in silence for a long moment, looking at Sparrow with dark eyes.

"Jack," he said finally, daring to call his captain by his first name, and for this Jack looked at him with furrowed brows, the corners of his lip turned downward in what was almost a frown. Gathering his nerve, he went on despite Jack's disapproving glare. "You said… you said I had no one to tell except you, back when… well, you remember," he said, "and although I wanted to deny it, you were right. I'm in a similar situation, and it's going to 'eat me alive,' as you said, if I don't tell someone, and you're all I've got."

Jack Sparrow was confused. He had not spoken to him and weeks, and suddenly Matthew (Miriam?) had shown up saying he needed to tell him something. Before he could say anything consenting to the conversation, Matt went across and sat on the bed. His eyes softened somewhat as he looked at Jack, and his voice lost its gruff edge. "Please, Jack," Miriam said, in a tone that he could not help but take pity on. He went and sat next to her, and was surprised when the girl leaned against him. Not knowing what else to do, he put his arm around her shoulder in what he thought was a comforting manner. He felt her muscles tense, but she did not push him away, and after a moment she relaxed.

"What is it?" Jack asked, not in the thoughtful or caring tone one might expect, but instead in one that was mildly confused and perhaps showed a hint of irritation. She did not seem to care, or even notice.

"Time's up," she said, "or rather, I'm out of time." When Jack's expression showed not even the slightest hint of understanding, she went on, "I'm showing. Maybe to you I just look fat, but anybody who knows better can see that I've got this parasite child growing in my gut."

Jack understood why she had come, could see the resignation and defeat in her face. "I love this ship, Jack. I love her like no other, and her crew, and God help me, I even have a spot in my heart for her captain that isn't as hard and cold as stone, as irritating as he may be sometimes. But I'm out of time. I can't stay, I can't be the ship's pregnant whore when they all see through this cloth and these bandages."

Her voice showed pain that was equal to his when he'd lost the Pearl those years ago. Despite himself, he wrapped his other arm around her and held her, though she didn't cry. Miriam let her head rest against his chest, and they sat in silence like that for what seemed a small eternity, until Jack said, very quietly, "There are other ways, you know… Medicines you can take, herbs." She shook her head.

"No. I can't do it. I don't know why, I just can't. This child is in me and it'll stay there until it decides to leave me, and after that, I don't know what I'll do."

"I understand," he said, and he did, as best as any man could. After a moment, he released her from his arms, and said gently, "Go to your cabin, and stay there. I'll think of something, and I'll be down in not long at all."

She nodded, and suddenly, as best she could with one arm still recovering from injury, she hugged him, and smiled when he returned the gesture. A moment later they stood, and faced each other. Miriam's smile was slight, and though he could not explain why, Jack stooped slightly and gave her a very chaste, brotherly kiss on her mouth. She squeezed his hand for a moment, and then said, very quietly, "Thank you, Jack." Then she turned, and went out.

Author's note: It's been so long! Please don't hurt me! I don't even know if any of my old readers still exist. Meep. As a brief explanation for my extended absence, I've had a bit of upheaval in my own life, and found it difficult to decide whether or not continue to write this story in the direction in which it's heading. Eventually I've decided that whatever's going on in my life, this story shall continue as planned. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I've lost my notes, there may be some changes. My style may have changed a bit in the past few months as well, but hopefully it's improved instead of deteriorated. The only question now is how fast are things going to happen?