Unoffical, but I'll take it
Dec. 5th, 2004 01:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20I slept until 10 this morning so I decided that it's unofficial WIP amnesty day for me.
So, I'm going to post what I've written of the Jack/James baby fic, even though I don't nkow if I'm ever going to finish it. But... here it is. The gazillionth version of it. It's set int he same universe as Freedom and Silent as the Grave.
So much blood. There was so much of it. James had seen men bleed to death before, but this... this was different. And not just because it was a woman; sadly, in his time in the service, he'd seen too many women butchered without thought.
But this... This was supposed to be *life*. This was supposed to be natural. Women did this all the time with nothing more to show than a squalling babe. But not this woman. Not *this* woman who'd never been anything but trouble to James. No. She could not give birth without a spectacle; no, she must go out in a torrent of blood that soaked the linens and left her nothing but a desiccated corpse.
Mary Black, may she rest in peace. Rich auburn hair, murky green eyes, freckles. She had been a very pretty girl, even James had to admit that. Now, her skin was waxy pale and splashed with blood. The hair was damp and dank with sweat, and the eyes forever closed.
After all she'd done, all her planning and suffering and scheming, she'd been brought down by a power greater than her own clever mind. And she had been clever, if single-minded.
James held no hatred for her. No anger. What was done was done, and he'd dug his grave as deeply as she'd dug her own. If there had ever been a moment...
"James," Elizabeth said from behind him. Her voice quivered and when James turned, he saw her trembling.
There was blood on her as well. A smear on her cheeks, stains on her hands, streaks down her dress where she'd absentmindedly wiped during the birthing process. Her eyes held a dazed expression and she wrung her hands helplessly at her stomach.
He should enquire as to her well-being, he knew. She'd been in the room during the birth where he'd been oblivious to the occurrence. And this was Elizabeth; she'd never even seen a proper birth before. This had been a travesty.
"The babe?" he asked in lieu of anything resembling politeness.
"With the nurse. The midwife sent for a wet nurse when it became clear.... Oh James." Her hands flew to her mouth and tears started falling from her eyes.
Awkward, James stepped into her and held her stiffly. His mind was not on the woman in his arms, but on the child. The orphan.
"What was it?"
Elizabeth didn’t answer.
"It's a boy," Will answered from the door.
A boy. "And..."
"And he will live." Entering the room, Will gently pried Elizabeth away from James and held her. "They are in the kitchen, if you wish to see him."
Grateful, James smiled at Will and left the room. Elizabeth, for all her goodness and strength of heart did not understand James's behavior in all of this. She thought him a fool for not denouncing Mary's claims from the offset. She knew him too well, but not deeply enough.
Will was a man after his own heart. Will understood.
The child was squalling fitfully when James entered the kitchen. Querulous wails filled the air, refusing to be soothed by the nurse's shushes and rocking.
"You the father?" the midwife asked.
He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the child to the unfamiliar woman. The midwife, he knew, lived in the outskirts of town, within an hour's ride. He'd never seen her in town, only her assistants. It was possible she hadn't heard the rumors.
James did not answer her question. "How is he?" he asked instead, returning his gaze to the baby.
"He is a strong one," the midwife answered. She took the child from the nurse and bounced him. "Strong lungs, strong constitution. Beautiful. He'll live a long and healthy life, mark my words." She placed the baby into his arms.
"I'll drop him," James protested, but he did not try to give him back.
"No, you won't. Father's always think they will, and I've never seen one drop yet." She patted the child's head and looked up at him. "Any ideas for the name?"
He's not mine, James thought. I've no right.
"Gavin." The name fell from his lips easily, without a thought. "His name is Gavin."
"Gavin Norrington," the wet nurse said from her seat. She smiled at James, an admiring look in her eyes.
This woman James knew. Beautiful, with a dusky rose expression, doll-like blue eyes, and golden hair, Mariah worked at a tavern nearby. She was, reportedly, of loose morals, but had a friendly and open temperament that event the most moral of men found her inoffensive. Even James. They'd flirted on occasion, but neither had pressed, James because such things were beneath him, and Mariah because she understood he was not interested.
He'd forgotten she'd had a child recently. Stillbirth. He'd sent the local doctor to make sure she was all right when he'd heard, and a good meal from his own kitchens to help aid in her recovery.
"Mariah," he said.
"One friend to another, Commodore," she said. "When I heard that it was Mary's child that needed aid, I came as soon as I could." She rose, straightening her skirts as she did. "I knew her, gave her work when she first came. I know the strange circumstances she's been living under the past nine months. And, James." She put her hand on his arm. "I feel honor-bound to make an offer to you. To... to relieve you of the burden for I know that this child..."
"Is my son," he cut her off gently. "This child is my... my son."
Her mouth opened for a moment to protest--no doubt she knew a more likely suspect--but then closed it again. An understanding smile crossed her face and she nodded. "Of course," she said, returning to her seat. "He's your son."
* * *
Part 2
So, I'm going to post what I've written of the Jack/James baby fic, even though I don't nkow if I'm ever going to finish it. But... here it is. The gazillionth version of it. It's set int he same universe as Freedom and Silent as the Grave.
So much blood. There was so much of it. James had seen men bleed to death before, but this... this was different. And not just because it was a woman; sadly, in his time in the service, he'd seen too many women butchered without thought.
But this... This was supposed to be *life*. This was supposed to be natural. Women did this all the time with nothing more to show than a squalling babe. But not this woman. Not *this* woman who'd never been anything but trouble to James. No. She could not give birth without a spectacle; no, she must go out in a torrent of blood that soaked the linens and left her nothing but a desiccated corpse.
Mary Black, may she rest in peace. Rich auburn hair, murky green eyes, freckles. She had been a very pretty girl, even James had to admit that. Now, her skin was waxy pale and splashed with blood. The hair was damp and dank with sweat, and the eyes forever closed.
After all she'd done, all her planning and suffering and scheming, she'd been brought down by a power greater than her own clever mind. And she had been clever, if single-minded.
James held no hatred for her. No anger. What was done was done, and he'd dug his grave as deeply as she'd dug her own. If there had ever been a moment...
"James," Elizabeth said from behind him. Her voice quivered and when James turned, he saw her trembling.
There was blood on her as well. A smear on her cheeks, stains on her hands, streaks down her dress where she'd absentmindedly wiped during the birthing process. Her eyes held a dazed expression and she wrung her hands helplessly at her stomach.
He should enquire as to her well-being, he knew. She'd been in the room during the birth where he'd been oblivious to the occurrence. And this was Elizabeth; she'd never even seen a proper birth before. This had been a travesty.
"The babe?" he asked in lieu of anything resembling politeness.
"With the nurse. The midwife sent for a wet nurse when it became clear.... Oh James." Her hands flew to her mouth and tears started falling from her eyes.
Awkward, James stepped into her and held her stiffly. His mind was not on the woman in his arms, but on the child. The orphan.
"What was it?"
Elizabeth didn’t answer.
"It's a boy," Will answered from the door.
A boy. "And..."
"And he will live." Entering the room, Will gently pried Elizabeth away from James and held her. "They are in the kitchen, if you wish to see him."
Grateful, James smiled at Will and left the room. Elizabeth, for all her goodness and strength of heart did not understand James's behavior in all of this. She thought him a fool for not denouncing Mary's claims from the offset. She knew him too well, but not deeply enough.
Will was a man after his own heart. Will understood.
The child was squalling fitfully when James entered the kitchen. Querulous wails filled the air, refusing to be soothed by the nurse's shushes and rocking.
"You the father?" the midwife asked.
He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the child to the unfamiliar woman. The midwife, he knew, lived in the outskirts of town, within an hour's ride. He'd never seen her in town, only her assistants. It was possible she hadn't heard the rumors.
James did not answer her question. "How is he?" he asked instead, returning his gaze to the baby.
"He is a strong one," the midwife answered. She took the child from the nurse and bounced him. "Strong lungs, strong constitution. Beautiful. He'll live a long and healthy life, mark my words." She placed the baby into his arms.
"I'll drop him," James protested, but he did not try to give him back.
"No, you won't. Father's always think they will, and I've never seen one drop yet." She patted the child's head and looked up at him. "Any ideas for the name?"
He's not mine, James thought. I've no right.
"Gavin." The name fell from his lips easily, without a thought. "His name is Gavin."
"Gavin Norrington," the wet nurse said from her seat. She smiled at James, an admiring look in her eyes.
This woman James knew. Beautiful, with a dusky rose expression, doll-like blue eyes, and golden hair, Mariah worked at a tavern nearby. She was, reportedly, of loose morals, but had a friendly and open temperament that event the most moral of men found her inoffensive. Even James. They'd flirted on occasion, but neither had pressed, James because such things were beneath him, and Mariah because she understood he was not interested.
He'd forgotten she'd had a child recently. Stillbirth. He'd sent the local doctor to make sure she was all right when he'd heard, and a good meal from his own kitchens to help aid in her recovery.
"Mariah," he said.
"One friend to another, Commodore," she said. "When I heard that it was Mary's child that needed aid, I came as soon as I could." She rose, straightening her skirts as she did. "I knew her, gave her work when she first came. I know the strange circumstances she's been living under the past nine months. And, James." She put her hand on his arm. "I feel honor-bound to make an offer to you. To... to relieve you of the burden for I know that this child..."
"Is my son," he cut her off gently. "This child is my... my son."
Her mouth opened for a moment to protest--no doubt she knew a more likely suspect--but then closed it again. An understanding smile crossed her face and she nodded. "Of course," she said, returning to her seat. "He's your son."
* * *
Part 2
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-12 10:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-05 02:52 pm (UTC)