Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.
A/N: Another short chappie, but I'm trying to get this out before the movie so that way it can stay in cannon until At Worlds End says otherwise. ;) Again, thanks for reading!
"Captain."
Spoken in a hushed tone, full of shyness, caution … and, possibly, hope. So much exposed, and held back, in that one word. Standing at the dining table, it was obvious that Julia was surprised to the captain. He had caught her in the middle of a song, her steps matching the tune, her skirt swirling about her ankles. Color stained her cheeks fetchingly, but Julia looked more eager than embarrassed.
"James. Please."
James pushed himself off the doorway and crossed the room. The table was set and Julia was busy lighting several lanterns. The bright sunlight of earlier in the day was rapidly diminishing as clouds rolled in, casting the keeping room into shadow. The table separated the two of them and James saw that the two words he uttered could not have surprised her more. The match she had struck to touch against the lantern wick burned unheeded until the flame danced close enough to her fingertips to bring her out of her shock. Quickly blowing the match out, Julia used the moment as an excuse to break eye contact with the man before her. At the look of uncertainty tingeing her features, he repeated in a hushed voice, "Please."
Julia stared at the man before her. A smile played at the corners of his mouth and his eyes danced with merriment as he leaned his weight on his hands, fingers splayed wide, on the tabletop. It was as if her acceptance were a challenge – and her refusal would signal that Captain Norrington had won whatever contest they were participating in. With a gentle smile and small bob of her head, Julia acquiesced. "James."
James smiled, feeling slightly superior because he pushed at Missus Ramage – and she yielded. However, the reply he was expecting, that he could call her by her Christian name, was not forthcoming. Instead, Julia opened a bottle of wine and while she was letting that breathe, set a pitcher of water on the table. James watched curiously, afraid to ask if he should help because Julia just might put him to work. When the bowl of chowder was placed before the seat at the head of the table, James stepped forward and grabbed to goblets for each of the beverages, setting them at each of the place settings.
"Thank you," Julia murmured. Wrapping the bread in a towel, she smiled at her dinner companion and nodded at the chair. James smiled in return, pulling the chair out for her to sit. Even in his silence, Julia found his persistence maddening.
Julia sighed. "Cap –… James… The seat at the head of the table is for the guest of honor. 'Tis yours." It took everything in her power not place her hand on her hips and tap her foot in exasperation. Julia knew the man was taxing, but this was her home, dammit! He ran his ship and she should be able to run her home as she saw fit.
James smirked, but held his ground. Secretly, he was pleased that she called him by his name, but still disappointed that she had not granted him permission to do the same. And for that, he would give no ground; Julia would sit where he saw fit. "Actually, Missus Ramage, the seat at the head of the table is deemed for the head of the household. By definition, that would be you. Now, please, sit so I can stop standing here like a fool."
Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, Julia's gaze swept over the length of him, noting the pants hitting her guest mid-calf and both the shirt and pants hanging on her guest's leaner frame. His long hair, gleaming wet in the lantern light, was brushed back and tied in a queue with a clean length of ribbon. His cheeks were smooth, making him look more innocent, more human and less… authoritative. She felt their playing field had leveled somewhat and the thought scared her, so she dropped her gaze to the shirt he was wearing – and the open V showing a patch of chest.
Closing her eyes momentarily, she suppressed the urge to sigh. How on earth did she end up with a man who initially hated her on sight and was now wearing her dead husband's clothes while insisting she sit at the head of her kitchen table? Her life would be a whole lot less complicated and confusing if she had not opted to visit her sister. But what was done could not be undone and the consequences needed to be dealt with. And now, all she could think about was the exposed area of the captain's torso and the expanse of skin beneath the fabric.
Idiot. Just because you are lonely does not mean you need act like a trollop. Feed him and then send him on his way. 'Tis as simple as that.
When Julia opened her eyes and smiled wanly at him, Norrington was unable to suppress a grin himself. He tapped the chair to encourage his hostess to sit. Her eyes rolling in vexation, Julia closed the distance between the two of them. "Fine, but only because I know we would be standing here until tomorrow if I did not agree and the soup will not taste as well when it is cold. So my agreement is completely self serving, I want you to know." As she gathered her skirts and lowered herself into the seat, Julia cheekily added, "'Tis nice to see someone who can use those clothes, although I see that they fit you poorly. I do apologize for that. But I want you to know, yet again, you are a difficult man to place kindness upon. Guests always take a place of honor in my home."
His eyes were merry as he ensconced himself in the chair to her left, although the phrasing of her words lingered on. …In my home. Did that mean priorities changed with the death of her husband? That her husband put himself before all others? Deciding that it was a mystery not worth investigating at the moment, James relished the fact that Julia yielded yet again. With a flourish, James snapped the napkin open and placed it on his lap. Silence fell over the two as they directed their attention to their appetites. James found he was pleasantly surprised with the seafood and corn chowder that Julia had concocted. The warm bread, the steaming soup, the excellent wine – the afternoon was just about his idea of perfection. The only thing missing…
Stop thinking like that, old man. She's your hostess, not your consort – or even your wife. This is it for today. Food, conversation and then on your way.
When James shook his head, as if clearing thoughts from his mind, Julia set her soupspoon down and quietly asked, "What is it?" An odd feeling of paranoia crept its way down her back causing her to feel chills. Julia absently rubbed her arms as she waited for his reply.
Realizing that his actions were not only seen by Julia, but were in need of an explanation, James pushed his empty soup bowl away and rested his forearms on the tabletop. Locking gazes with Julia, he smiled, almost sheepishly, and explained.
"I am envious of your life." At the look of near horror washing over Julia's features, James amended. "I should rephrase for I know your life has been… difficult. But not once, in all the years I have been sailing, have I ever had the urge to set aside the ocean for a life on land. The sea was my calling, my passion. Of course, I have to admit, that there have been times of regret that I have not yet settled down, began a family. But there was never a time that the sea did not flow through my veins the same as my blood. And because of that, I felt like I would be split in my loyalty to my family and to my passion. However, now, here, I could easily see myself leaving the ocean, my ship, my life as I know it… for the stability of a home, a family, a… traditional life. I have been a guest in homes much grander and much more humble, but never, until now, did I miss what I did not have. While you may not see it, I think you are very luck indeed."
Dumbstruck at what James just revealed to her, Julia could not, would not, admit that the man before her was a stranger. No longer was he the captain of the ship who vexed her for the past week. Before her was a man. Not someone she whose services she was retaining to take her home. And without a category to shove him into any longer, Julia felt lost. For without parameters to define their relationship, she regarded her guest as dangerous. Not in a threatening way, but definitely as a worthy adversary. She should not let her guard down until he was gone.
Fighting to keep a serene smile on her lips so as to not betray her thoughts, Julia replied, "All the things that would seem like a tether around your neck before now seem… appealing? Maybe your wanderlust has been quenched. Maybe you have seen all you need to see and can finally pass along your information to a child or spouse or such. Or maybe you are just tired." Realizing that she was moving into territory that would soon prove uncomfortable, Julia opted to change the subject. Her brow rose in curiosity, then her eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "And if you keep calling me 'Missus Ramage,' I will go back to 'Captain Norrington.' When we met, I told you my name was Julia, but you insisted on calling me by my surname. Now I insist on you calling me Julia or… or…"
But as Julia realized how ridiculous her threat was becoming – because there was no threat – and the situation took on a feeling of… normalcy? Is this not what other people did? People who were friends? Dine, converse, enjoy each other's company? How long had it been since her life had been normal? The thought gave her pause and took her thoughts back to her childhood when everything had been carefree. A childhood that felt liked it belonged to someone else.
Watching Julia struggle to finish her thought, James smirked in amusement. "Or what?" He made a point of not using her Christian name. His voice lowered, quieted, traced along her skin. Teasing her felt foreign, for their relationship had been rocky – at best – from the beginning, but now not at all unpleasant. On the ship, her attitude was pure confidence, even if it was all bravado. Here in her home, Julia looked even more fragile than she did the entire time the Amphritrite sailed to Charles Towne. And her vulnerability was very, very appealing.
Julia dropped her gaze to her plate and shook her head in amusement. When she looked up, her face was alive in delight. "Or nothing! It seems my threats are as empty as your bowl. Would you like some more?" She laughed right along with her guest.
Shaking his head in the negative, James said, "Nay. And not because I would not like more, but because there is none. Once you served yourself, I took liberties as your guest. The tureen is empty. But I am full, although your bread is delicious and I shall certainly help myself to another slice. Shall I cut you one also?"
Julia hesitated a moment before answering. Despite thinking that her guest was dangerous, there was no denying that he seemed more relaxed – younger even – in her home. The boyishness was surprising, but not at all unappreciated. She could admit to herself that her guest was an extremely handsome man. Piercing eyes, strong jaw, lean yet muscular build. In fact, if circumstances were different, then Julia knew that she would…
I would what? Flirt? Flirt more? Be more at ease? Bah. If I were to see him for the first time at a ball or party, I know my heart would accelerate and I would do what I could to insinuate myself into whatever conversation he was participating in. Ah, another lifetime then. Finish up the meal and get him out the door.
Sliding out of her seat, Julia began to gather the empty dishes and set them to the side. "No, I am full. But thank you. You eat; I shall clear the table. Then shall we retire to the parlor?"
