the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

[From here]

Barefoot, Alanna stomps through the wet grass, eyes fixed resolutely on the hull of the Black Pearl. She would be shivering if her teeth weren't clenched so tightly, and the long sleeves of her shirt are pulled preventatively over her fingers. It might have behooved her to stop for a sweater, but she's entirely too upset to care.

Irrational? She tells herself there's nothing irrational about her behavior, fuming at the mental image of Adam and Elizabeth laughing over a drink.

Elizabeth did something absolutely reprehensible as judged by Alanna's code of ethics, and she isn't quite ready to look at it any other way.

(Which one of us has killed, sister?)

She's just so… irritated.

It doesn't take her long to reach the lake shore, and she yells, “JACK, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!”

Here's hoping he isn't sleeping. Or wasn't, as the case may be.

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Adam's chasing after her, his shirt half unbuttoned, and his whole look screaming disheveled.

He doesn't bother yelling her name, not after people gave him a strange look as he streaked through the bar, but as she comes to a stop on the shore, he stops nearby -- but not too close.

He hadn't been asleep. Jack had been lying in his hammock, alternately considering the nearby (currently untouched) bottle of rum and the bright shining unwavering light of the lantern that's never all that far away at night, now.

At the sound of Alanna's yell, he sits bolt upright, very nearly tipping himself out of the hammock onto the deck.

Muttering curses, Jack untangles himself and stands, swaying slightly. He claps his hat onto his head and snatches the lantern from its hook, then strides onto the Pearl's deck.

"What's all the fuss, luv?"

Momentarily distracted by the light, Alanna blinks at him several times before she remembers.

"I need to talk to you," she repeats with deceptive calm. He's right there, and he's dead. "Throw me the rope?"

Something in her tone suggests that should he not comply, there will be Words.

Adam thinks for a moment about suggesting that they don't really need to take the boat, and then thinks better of it. Much better. and instead waits for Jack to toss the rope.

Jack takes a moment to take all this in.

Alanna, clearly upset over something, barefoot. Adam, standing just far enough off to be out of reach, shirt only half-on and Not Saying A Word.

This in no way can possibly be good, and for a moment Jack considers going straight back into the cabin and pleading later that he thought he was sleepwalking and that it couldn't possibly be real.

Then again, if he doesn't bring them aboard, it's just as likely the lad will do his trick again. Jack sighs.

Bugger.

He sets the lantern down on top of a barrel and goes for the raft's lanyard, which he sends soaring shoreward mere seconds later.

Adam catches it deftly in one hand, turning to Alanna with a questioning look on his face.

Hand closing on thin air, Alanna turns to stare at him, eyes wide.

"Your shirt isn't on right," she says petulantly. "What are you doing here?"

But she waves off any answer, refusing to say another word until they're standing on deck. (Even if she does reach out for his arm to steady herself once or twice.)

By the time the two of the reach the Black Pearl, still in distinct, unnatural, and definitely tense silence, Jack's feeling rather extremely wary.

He's also figured out an approach that will hopefully keep him from being slapped, for whatever reason. He grins broadly as they set foot on deck, and spreads his hands in a gesture of welcome.

"Well. Here we are." A beat. "Alanna, luv, you've no shoes on."

Adam leans back against the rail, arms folded across his chest.

"She left them in the room, she was in such a rush."

The eyeroll is almost apparent in his words.

Eyes narrowing, Alanna turns to glare at him.

"It was either that or chuck them at you," she growls. "Pity I couldn't find them."

Alanna moves closer to Jack and points at her disheveled husband, indignant.

"He knows." Her voice is unusually raspy. "He knows what she did. I didn't give him any details, but he knows. Do you know how he knows?"

"Ah."

Jack looks back and forth between them, and finally settles on Alanna as the one who it'd be wisest not to turn his back on.

"No, I don't, luv, but I expect you're going to tell me, now aren't you?" He raises a finger to forestall any speech, though, and adds,

"Not yet. Into the cabin, the both of you. 'S too blasted cold out here."

Jack picks up the lantern and gestures grandly for them to proceed.

Adam holds his arm out and follows after Alanna, allowing her the opportunity to sit in one of the rickity chairs in the cabin. There's a light wind coming in from outside but it's warmer and cozier and Adam tries not to look too thankful for being led inside.

Very much aware that she isn't wearing enough clothing for this sort of weather, Alanna goes without argument.

Of course, the last time she was in this cabin, she wasn't wearing very much clothing either, but for an entirely different reason.

At the thought, her cheeks heat, but the blush soon fades as she sees the cabin in its current state. Wide-eyed, she sits down heavily.

The hammock, repaired table and barrel of rum all get a cursory glance, but it's the windows that capture her attention as she stands again and crosses to examine a piece of oilskin covering an as of yet unfixed hole.

The windows had always been her favorite part of the cabin. You could look behind at the ship's wake and really get the sense that you were going somewhere.

Anger momentarily replaced by sadness, she touches the wood of the cabin wall in silence and something approaching an apology.

"He's befriended Elizabeth," she finally says, tensing again.

"I didn't befriend her!"

Now how is it, he muses, that the wench can cause me no end of trouble when she's not even here?

Hanging the lantern from its hook as he passes, Jack strides to the barrel of rum, which has the bottle perched atop it. He snatches up the bottle and a handled cup, then pours a generous splash into the cup and promptly shoves it into Alanna's hand.

"Drink that-- and don't give me any argument about it, savvy?" Jack glares at her. "A single drink's not going to hurt you or the babes, not from what I've seen in me life."

He pours a second cup, then turns to Adam and gives him not the cup, but the bottle.

"Here. Looks like you could use it."

That done, Jack perches carefully on his table, one foot swinging idly and the other braced solidly against the floor. He takes a drink from the cup, then says,

"Befriended, is it? Are you certain about that?"

Expression stubborn, Alanna pretends to take a sip and eyes Jack over the rim of the cup.

"Not entirely," but that's not the real issue. "I know that he spent the evening with her!"

Obviously this is the real crime. Alanna looks back and forth between them, and the anger seems to crack slightly, leaving her bewildered and struggling with a sense of loyalty she's suddenly not sure Jack wants.

Regardless, Adam is supposed to be on her side, isn't he?

"He knows what she did," she says reproachfully, "and still says that I'm being too hard on her!"

He is on her side! It's just...

not so simple.

"I simply said that it was something to think about."

Well, okay, not precisely what he said, but close enough.

The rum is smooth and warm, and he drinks it with a thankful smile.

"Ah, lass..."

Jack's smile is inexplicably wry.

"You're a treasure, and no question of it."

He turns his look on Adam, asking,

"Well, son? What is it that you know?"

Again, Alanna looks thrown. She doesn't feel much like a treasure at the moment. In fact, she's starting to feel rather stupid for losing her temper and risks a glance at Adam, her own silence expectant.

Waiting, she continues to move nervously around the cabin, silently cataloguing the changes.

The silence lasts a bit longer as Adam pulls another sip from the bottle.

"I know what she did. I know why."

Inasmuch as anybody can really know, when things are all so confused in a person's brain to start with.

"Makes two of us, then."

He downs all the rum that's left in the cup and sets it aside, then looks to Alanna.

"Lass, I told you I understood why she did it, aye?"

"You did," she replies stiffly. "However, understanding that she wanted to save her own skin doesn't make it right."

The crux of the problem is that it is that simple for Alanna, or at least it was at one time. Before Milliways, good and evil had always been clearly defined, with the possible exception of her brother, who is really more amoral than anything else.

She had understood why Roger tried to kill Jonathan, and he had been punished accordingly.

"Understanding and relating to motives aren't the same thing."

Sometimes she forgets that things aren't always so black and white.

"Never said it was right, luv," he tells her, and grins. "Makes more sense that way anyhow -- pirate, remember?"

Adam takes another sip, and nods vaguely at Jack's words, not quite yet ready to approach Alanna and test her reaction.

"And knowing isn't the same as being there."

Pirate.

It's amazing how one little word, one title, can encompass so much. And yet not -- doesn't the word 'knight' mean as much to her? Knight and pirate, and here they have run into that which divides them most.

(To wear the shield of a knight is an important thing. It means you may not ignore a cry for help. It means that rich and poor, young and old, male and female may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them.)

Swallowing hard, Alanna nods and says, "it doesn't matter to me. I know what I would have done, but I have sworn to do nothing else."

(A knight's first duty is to understand.)

"I... understand that not everyone would do the same, or bear the blame in quite the same way." She scowls at the floor. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Or her. She killed you, Jack."