Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 30. Outings
Summary: And consequences...
Timeline: September 30, 1675
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

Miriam stood nearby, dressed in a plain dress, a shawl covering her hair. The men did not bother her, for she did not dress like the strumpets of the Dock Quarter of Port Royal, and the swell of her stomach announced the child she would bear. The flickering lights of the street shone on her tanned skin, and she smiled faintly at him as he approached. She curtsied, and her face went for a moment in shadow.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, eying her. "Surely a respectable lady such as yourself..."

"Hardly," she said dryly. "If you must know, I was delivering a letter." Jack couldn't help but smile down at her then. She was such a little thing, so tiny to be carrying her stomach before her. The dress she wore was a pale shade of blue, and her grey eyes shone brightly in the night. How different she was now, how very delicate. Matthew had nearly disappeared from beneath her skin.

"I noticed."

There was a moment's pause. "Walk me home?" she suggested. "After all, this is hardly the place for a respectable lady such as I am." Her face lit with a grin, and he thought he saw just the briefest glimpse of the woman beneath the mask—for surely this elegant yet fragile creature was not the pirate who had called herself Matthew.

He nodded, and took her arm as a gentleman might. "You're livin' with the Turners, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but... that's not home. Take me to where I can see the Pearl." His expression was thoughtful, and she thought for a moment that he might deny her. She did not wonder at why he was so easy to read when usually any thoughts he had were shielded by his flippant attitude.

"Alright," he consented. "After all, I can hardly say no to a lady."

The Black Pearl was docked three miles from Port Royal, hidden away in a small cove. But there was one place where she might be able to catch a glimpse—although he had no idea why he was obliging her. He led her through the docks, then past them, to Port Royal's edge. They cut an odd pair, the lady on the pirate's arm. Jack told stories as they walked, none of them true, gesturing wildly with his free hand while she watched him, eyes veiled beneath her lashes. She would smile faintly at his jokes, and laugh quietly when Matthew would have roared with appreciation.

After a time, they came to the place where the ocean met the land. They walked along the coastline, and here Miriam seemed more herself than in the city. She grinned and laughed honestly, although her spirit was still tamer than it might have been. The shawl was loosely about her shoulders now, her short hair revealed.

Jack stopped suddenly, bending as he took off his boots. Taking the hint from him, Miriam sat down on the sand to do the same; she still wore her sea-boots, even with gowns. He grinned when he saw them in the sand.

"How'd I guess?" he said, helping her get to her feet.

"Jus' that smart, I suppose."

They waded out into the shallow water, Miriam gathering her skirts in her hands to keep them from the waves. The ocean was cold, but not unbearably so. Glancing upwards, she saw the moon was full in the sky, the stars bright. Jack brought her attention to a different light, near the dark outline of a rocky cliff that descended into deeper waters.

That light flickered uncertainly, unfathomably distant, rocking in time with the waves. Beneath it was a shadow darker than the others, and she recognized the ship's outline. They stood in silence for minutes that stretched like hours, knee-deep in the ocean and watching the Pearl's single lamp shine.

"It's beautiful."

"I know," Jack said, and he almost put an arm around her shoulders. He stopped himself, wondering where the idea had come from. The pirate had been caught by strange moods the entire night, though he had made his best attempt to act himself. "It's freedom."

Miriam nodded in agreement, turning to return to the shore. She stopped suddenly. "Jack," she whispered.

"Hm?"

She eyed the shore suspiciously, trying to see through the veil of darkness that made shapes difficult to perceive. "There's someone there."

"Well then," Jack said, loudly enough to be heard by their spectator, "let us return to the shore and meet them."

The shadow lit a lantern as they approached, and it became obvious then that it was a man. Miriam cursed as she recognised him. Jack eyed her curiously, but said nothing. As they reached the dry sand, Miriam dropped her skirts from where they were hiked indecently about her thighs. She curtsied politely.

"Randal," she said, her voice warm and honeyed. "It's nice to see you."

Jack looked that the man she addressed. He was younger, probably in his early twenties, tall with short, dirty brown hair and severe green eyes. The pirate bowed mockingly to the sailor.

The young man looked at them quietly for a time. He spoke at last, saying "I'd hoped I was wrong about ye."

She shrugged. Jack felt out of place, unsure of who the sailor was, his relationship to Miriam, or how he himself fit into their discussion.

"Yes, well, no one's been right about me yet." Her voice was calm and smooth, almost lilting as if cheerful.

Randal's eyes turned to her companion. The pirate wasn't exceptionally tall, and his loose posture made him seem even less so. His hair, tangled and dark, was filled with beads and other small baubles, tied black with a long strip of red cloth. He wore a dirty shirt and breeches, a sash striped red and white looped around his waist with a belt over it. A pistol was tucked into it, and a cutlass hung at his side. His smile was amused and gave a glint of good teeth.

"Jack Sparrow," the sailor said.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," the pirate corrected with a grin.

The second man shrugged, looking at Miriam. With no warning, he slapped her. She reeled with the force of his blow, her cheek stinging. "Whore," he hissed, "sleepin' with the likes of 'im." Jack needed no further incentive, and he fell upon Randal in an instant, cutlass drawn.

Miriam struggled to her feet—she had not realised that she had fallen. It took a terribly long time to stand, with the sand shifting beneath her feet. There was a strange taste in her mouth, the coppery flavour of blood. "Jack—no," she said, "he doesn't understand." He had his blade as the man's throat, and she sighed. "Don't hurt him."

"Why shouldn't I?"

Why was he being so protective of her? It hardly made sense. She frowned at them both. "Because—you're acting like an overprotective lover," she said bluntly. "Besides, I've survived being stabbed, shot and—" she was about to say something else, but she substitutes what she might have said with, "and worse. I can handle being called a whore."

Jack lowered his cutlass, backing away. Miriam approached Randal, squaring her shoulders proudly. Her back straightened despite the additional weight she had carried these past months. "Yes," she told him, her voice bitter but strong, "I am a whore, and a pirate too. I used to work the Faithful Bride, an' I was the most expensive slut there; men paid for me with their hearts, not just their coin." She smiled acidly. "You think this babe is his?" she asked, indicating her stomach and then her captain. "I wish it was, at least then I'd know who the father was. At least I could say that I chose the father." She spat blood onto the sand.

"As it is, I live with my lot in life: to have a pirate's blood in my veins and an unwanted parasite in my gut." Her eyes were cold, and Jack recognised her for once as Miriam and not the strange lady he'd walked with earlier.

She turned away then. Bending over uncomfortably, she collected her boots and her shawl. As an afterthought, she looked back at Randal, adding, "Oh, and if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll kill you." It was a simple statement of fact. "Jack, will you walk with me to the Turner residence? I expect they'll be worried about me by now."

Jack looked at the young man, who stood as if in shock. He gave the lad a gold-toothed grin. "She won't, not if I kill you first," he said cheerfully as he collected his own boots, and then walked quickly to catch up with Miriam, who was already walking away.

"Where have you been?" Elizabeth demanded, ushering Miriam inside. Jack hung back from the door, standing in the shadows. "Jack, you've some explaining to do. Get in here." Having been found out, he entered the house behind them, turning to pull the door shut.

"Liz, is she home?" Will's voice asked from upstairs. He appeared a moment later, nodding a greeting to Jack as he brushed past him. "Is she alright?"

In the next room, Miriam lounged comfortably on one of the couches, her shawl and boots discarded on the floor. She liked Elizabeth, but she didn't feel like being fussed over. "Well?" the younger woman asked. "Where were you?"

Miriam waved a hand in her captain's general direction. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He wore an expression of disinterest, though truthfully he watched her. "Ask him," she said.

Will sat next to his wife. He looked up at Jack with questioning eyes. With a sigh, as if frustrated that he wouldn't be leaving soon, the pirate crossed the room to settle on a chair near the couch on which Miriam lay. "She was in the Dock Quarter, delivering a letter to me—only, I was there, so I got it a bit sooner than she'd expected."

"It doesn't take four hours to deliver a letter," Elizabeth said bluntly, and her words demanded an explanation. Her ward was studiously examining the sand beneath her nails, paying little attention to anyone else in the room. She did not seem interested in the fact that she was being lectures by a woman several years younger than she was.

So Jack answered for her. "She wanted t'see the Pearl—so I took her to spot where she could, from a distance, mind."

"That still shouldn't take four hours, should it?" Will asked, honestly curious. There were no unspoken accusations in his words, but Jack was on edge.

"I wasn't bedding her, if that's what you think," he said, bristling and defensive. Elizabeth and her husband both looked up at him, shock in their eyes at that outburst. Jack looked at them, saw their confusion. Miriam was still ignoring her surroundings. "Sorry, I'm a little—tired."

Will smiled and stood. "I'll get you some rum. You sound like you need it."

After he left, Elizabeth smiled at the pirate. "So, now that we've established what—or rather, who—she wasn't doing, what did take four hours?"

Jack shrugged. "We were talkin' for must of the time, out in the yard behind the house, actually."

"So you mean to tell me that we've been worried out of our heads, but she was actually here for much of the time she had disappeared," the young woman asked. He nodded, and smiled as Will passed him a glass of rum before returning to the seat next to his wife.

Their conversation was interrupted by a pained noise coming from the couch. The woman who laid there curled up on herself, gritting her teeth. "It's—happening—again," she managed to croak.

"Will, go get the doctor," his wife said. "This wouldn't be happening if she had stayed home." Jack was staring at her in confusion, Will was already out the door, and Miriam laid there, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out in pain.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"She's been having early contractions—she's supposed to be in bed." She paused, as if considering this. "And now Will's gone, and I can't get her upstairs!"

The pirate put his rum down. Standing, he took Miriam up with his arm. "That's what I'm here for, Lizzie," he said.

"Jack," the woman in his arms moaned, "put me down... this instant." She was too weak to extract herself from his grip, and instead slumped against his chest. Her body shook his arms, and occasionally she cringed as if a blow was being struck.

"Before you go in, Doctor," Elizabeth said, standing before the door to Miriam's chambers. "I should remind you of your Oath."

The old man looked at her quizzically, tugging his beard. "And why is that, Mrs. Turner?"

"All that may come to my knowledge in the exercise of my profession or in daily commerce with men, which ought not to be spread abroad, I will keep secret and will never reveal. You swear that?"

"I do."

She opened the door. Miriam lay in the bed, pale and sweating. Her body shook, one hand placed protectively over her swollen stomach. Beside her was a sight most doctors would not have expected—a man sat on the bed, her other hand clutched tightly in his. His face was pale beneath his tan, his eyes nervous. This was not unusual, but the identity of her guardian was. The doctor recognised him; it was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Pleasure to see you again, Captain," Dr. Gregory Haddon said to the pirate, who looked up and nodded a greeting before returning to watch Miriam's face.

Elizabeth frowned. "You two know each other?"

Dr. Haddon nodded. "Yes... he boarded a ship I was on, and a young man—woman—was injured. I looked at her shoulder. I also told her captain that she was pregnant." He smiled kindly at Jack, who did not appear to notice.

The doctor went through his medical bag, pulling out a small glass bottle filled with liquid. He poured this into a cup resting on the nearby table, then mixed several powders from different containers in his bag into it. Leaning over her, he put the glass to her lips, and poured it down her throat. She coughed, but swallowed the solution, which to Jack smelled foul even from where he sat.

Taking the glass away from the girl, the doctor settled down in his chair, and looked at the small woman. She still shook uncontrollably, her body wracked by violent spasms every few moments. It would take some time for the drug to take full effect.

"What now?" Jack asked, still clutching her hand safely in his. His dark eyes were concerned, frightened. He did not bother to conceal his worry beneath a mask of idle pacing. Elizabeth watched him from the door—she felt some pity for the Black Pearl's captain, although she had to admit, she was almost, almost amused—for his behaviour proved that despite any claims to the opposite, he cared about something, someone other than his ship.

The doctor smiled sadly at him. "We wait."

Author's note: Another update—I haven't much to say, I'm very tired. I really struggled with this, but it seemed to pick up after Miriam's rant at Randal. I changed his name, by the way, because it suddenly occurred to me that I had to characters named Gregory. I'd completely forgotten about the good doctor, and I've now brought him back for a time at least.