And I wanna believe you,
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Ya I try to believe you,
But I don't
When you say that it's gonna be,
It always turns out to be a different way,
I try to believe you,
Not today, today, today, today, today...
The cello was beautiful. Aged perfectly, it had a shiny gloss on it, and from a professional or novice point of view, it was made with excellent craftsmanship.
I ran my hand down its side, inspecting it. I wanted it so badly, wanted to hear its sound again. Money was not an issue – Mrs. Archon had been paying me amply for my services. It was where I was to put it. My quarters were exactly spacious, but cramped even with the small amount of stuff I had.
"Would you like to buy it or not?" said the man, impatiently staring at me through his spectacles.
"Yes, I'll take it," I murmured. "I'll take some music as well." He nodded, taking the cello. "I assume a bow and cleaning equipment is included in the price?"
"Bow is, cleaning equipment is extra."
"I'll take some cleaning equipment, rosin, clothes, etc." I went over to the music shelves and selected a few cello suites, many by Bach. I managed to get my hands Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, one of my favorites. I vaguely heard him say a price, and I laid out the money on the counter. He smiled, handing over the cello in its case with its bow, and the cleaning equipment and music in a paper bag.
I moved through the crowds back to my room at the Hunsford Inn, which was more of a boarding house than an inn. It had been three weeks since I had last met and actually talked with Swann, Norrington, or Elizabeth, but I had left her a note saying that Turner needed to see her. I had been covertly bringing them together – covertly in terms of Elizabeth's knowledge of my role. Turner had a vague idea of what I was doing, and he was always thankful to me. Swann was polite when he saw me, Norrington stony-faced and silent. We didn't exactly agree on politics, but, then again, I wasn't exactly up-to-date on the navy's policies, especially the English navy.
"Goodness me, Miss Fitzgerald, what 'ave ye got there?" cried the landlady, Mrs. Mason.
"It's a cello, Mrs. Mason, an instrument."
"Ah, ya mean we are ta 'ave music 'ere now?"
"Yes, ma'am." I trudged up the two flights of stairs to the apartment, which consisted of a bedroom and a small study-like room. Propping the cello up against the wall and setting the bag on the bed, I sank into one of the stuffed chairs, stretching my feet out. Town life could be heard down in the street, wagons and horses going by, men and women shouting their wares while children laughed and squealed down the alley ways.
I had to know. Getting back up and nearly running downstairs, I trotted to the fort. Stopping one of the officers, I said,
"Where might I find all the documents on naval policy and laws?" The man stared in disbelief, stunned at my question.
"This way, ma'am," he stuttered, and led me to a room filled with legal books.
"Thank you. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?" He nodded. I gave him a sweet smile, and closed the door behind me. I scanned the shelves, finally pulling down a book on the most recent laws made for British ports. I don't know how long I read, but I went through several books, soaking in knowledge about laws on pirates, criminals, duties of the different ranks of officers and mates and so on, laws of the seas, terms of engagement, what to do if encountering an enemy ship. There was so much.
"Miss Fitzgerald." I jumped in surprise, the chair clanging to the floor. Captain Norrington stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back.
"Dammit, man, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" I gasped, nervous butterflies mingling with relief in my stomach.
"Miss Fitzgerald, what are you doing in the fort's library, which is only for the use of officers of the British navy?" he asked, eyes boring into me.
"I...I was learning. About the British navy, and its laws," I swallowed, intimidated. "I'm sorry I talked back to you, I was wrong. You're just doing your job. But...." I scuffed the floor with my shoe, lowering my gaze, not wanting to meet his.
"But what?" he asked, his tone softer.
"Do you always have to be so stuck up and prudish?" I blurted out, raising my gaze in time to see his jaw drop a few inches. "Honestly, man, in front of your officers, men, and the Governor is one thing, but is it so necessary in front of me?"
"Miss Fitzgerald, I never have been spoken to in all my life in this manner," he said, voice hard and eyes glaring. "You may have learned a thing or two about British naval policies, but you still have a thing or two to learn about behavior in society."
"I know enough to know that once two people meet and have a few chances to form a friendship, not so much stiff politeness is necessary. Try to relax for a change, if only around me!"
"It is not in my nature. I have been brought up to be civil and polite in society as suits any respectable English gentleman. And to behave in the manner you've suggested in front of a lady is out of the question." Oh, he was pushing me. If I don't show him emotion, who will? I thought. Standing on my tip-toes almost, I grabbed his face and kissed him for all I was worth. His hands weren't sure quite what to do but just kind of hang suspended in mid-air. I noticed that he had a strong, pleasurable smell of the sea on him, that his lips were moist and vaguely salty in taste.
Releasing the kiss, I slowly backed away from him. He was breathing hard, and was leaning on the table. My hands were shaking a little. The room was dead quiet. Slowly, I picked up my jacket from the back of the seat, and inched towards the door, still uncertain as to what had just happened.
Norrington slammed his hand against the door, preventing my exit. His face no longer had the stiff impassivity on it, but was loose, eyes questioning and uncertain.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
"I don't know." I licked my lips. "Maybe just trying to help you see that there's more to life than catching pirates and that it's ok to show a little emotion." I didn't know who was saying those words, but it felt and sounded like me. My hand reached for the door handle, and I eased my way past Norrington and out into the salty air of Port Royal.
It's always been up to you,
It's turning around,
It's up to me,
I'm gonna do what I have to do,
just don't
Gimme a little time,
Leave me alone a little while,
Maybe it's not too late,
not today, today, today, today, today...
Disclaimer: all lyrics by Avril Lavigne, from song "Tomorrow"
When you tell me that it'll be ok,
Ya I try to believe you,
But I don't
When you say that it's gonna be,
It always turns out to be a different way,
I try to believe you,
Not today, today, today, today, today...
The cello was beautiful. Aged perfectly, it had a shiny gloss on it, and from a professional or novice point of view, it was made with excellent craftsmanship.
I ran my hand down its side, inspecting it. I wanted it so badly, wanted to hear its sound again. Money was not an issue – Mrs. Archon had been paying me amply for my services. It was where I was to put it. My quarters were exactly spacious, but cramped even with the small amount of stuff I had.
"Would you like to buy it or not?" said the man, impatiently staring at me through his spectacles.
"Yes, I'll take it," I murmured. "I'll take some music as well." He nodded, taking the cello. "I assume a bow and cleaning equipment is included in the price?"
"Bow is, cleaning equipment is extra."
"I'll take some cleaning equipment, rosin, clothes, etc." I went over to the music shelves and selected a few cello suites, many by Bach. I managed to get my hands Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, one of my favorites. I vaguely heard him say a price, and I laid out the money on the counter. He smiled, handing over the cello in its case with its bow, and the cleaning equipment and music in a paper bag.
I moved through the crowds back to my room at the Hunsford Inn, which was more of a boarding house than an inn. It had been three weeks since I had last met and actually talked with Swann, Norrington, or Elizabeth, but I had left her a note saying that Turner needed to see her. I had been covertly bringing them together – covertly in terms of Elizabeth's knowledge of my role. Turner had a vague idea of what I was doing, and he was always thankful to me. Swann was polite when he saw me, Norrington stony-faced and silent. We didn't exactly agree on politics, but, then again, I wasn't exactly up-to-date on the navy's policies, especially the English navy.
"Goodness me, Miss Fitzgerald, what 'ave ye got there?" cried the landlady, Mrs. Mason.
"It's a cello, Mrs. Mason, an instrument."
"Ah, ya mean we are ta 'ave music 'ere now?"
"Yes, ma'am." I trudged up the two flights of stairs to the apartment, which consisted of a bedroom and a small study-like room. Propping the cello up against the wall and setting the bag on the bed, I sank into one of the stuffed chairs, stretching my feet out. Town life could be heard down in the street, wagons and horses going by, men and women shouting their wares while children laughed and squealed down the alley ways.
I had to know. Getting back up and nearly running downstairs, I trotted to the fort. Stopping one of the officers, I said,
"Where might I find all the documents on naval policy and laws?" The man stared in disbelief, stunned at my question.
"This way, ma'am," he stuttered, and led me to a room filled with legal books.
"Thank you. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?" He nodded. I gave him a sweet smile, and closed the door behind me. I scanned the shelves, finally pulling down a book on the most recent laws made for British ports. I don't know how long I read, but I went through several books, soaking in knowledge about laws on pirates, criminals, duties of the different ranks of officers and mates and so on, laws of the seas, terms of engagement, what to do if encountering an enemy ship. There was so much.
"Miss Fitzgerald." I jumped in surprise, the chair clanging to the floor. Captain Norrington stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back.
"Dammit, man, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" I gasped, nervous butterflies mingling with relief in my stomach.
"Miss Fitzgerald, what are you doing in the fort's library, which is only for the use of officers of the British navy?" he asked, eyes boring into me.
"I...I was learning. About the British navy, and its laws," I swallowed, intimidated. "I'm sorry I talked back to you, I was wrong. You're just doing your job. But...." I scuffed the floor with my shoe, lowering my gaze, not wanting to meet his.
"But what?" he asked, his tone softer.
"Do you always have to be so stuck up and prudish?" I blurted out, raising my gaze in time to see his jaw drop a few inches. "Honestly, man, in front of your officers, men, and the Governor is one thing, but is it so necessary in front of me?"
"Miss Fitzgerald, I never have been spoken to in all my life in this manner," he said, voice hard and eyes glaring. "You may have learned a thing or two about British naval policies, but you still have a thing or two to learn about behavior in society."
"I know enough to know that once two people meet and have a few chances to form a friendship, not so much stiff politeness is necessary. Try to relax for a change, if only around me!"
"It is not in my nature. I have been brought up to be civil and polite in society as suits any respectable English gentleman. And to behave in the manner you've suggested in front of a lady is out of the question." Oh, he was pushing me. If I don't show him emotion, who will? I thought. Standing on my tip-toes almost, I grabbed his face and kissed him for all I was worth. His hands weren't sure quite what to do but just kind of hang suspended in mid-air. I noticed that he had a strong, pleasurable smell of the sea on him, that his lips were moist and vaguely salty in taste.
Releasing the kiss, I slowly backed away from him. He was breathing hard, and was leaning on the table. My hands were shaking a little. The room was dead quiet. Slowly, I picked up my jacket from the back of the seat, and inched towards the door, still uncertain as to what had just happened.
Norrington slammed his hand against the door, preventing my exit. His face no longer had the stiff impassivity on it, but was loose, eyes questioning and uncertain.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
"I don't know." I licked my lips. "Maybe just trying to help you see that there's more to life than catching pirates and that it's ok to show a little emotion." I didn't know who was saying those words, but it felt and sounded like me. My hand reached for the door handle, and I eased my way past Norrington and out into the salty air of Port Royal.
It's always been up to you,
It's turning around,
It's up to me,
I'm gonna do what I have to do,
just don't
Gimme a little time,
Leave me alone a little while,
Maybe it's not too late,
not today, today, today, today, today...
Disclaimer: all lyrics by Avril Lavigne, from song "Tomorrow"