called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

The thing about a compass is if it points two ways, it's utter rubbish.

Or so Lucy's inclined to think, and she'd be the first to admit that she's glaring at the silver object in her hands as she sits in the sand.

(The sand is rougher here, she thinks, distantly, without wanting to, and not so fine under her feet.)

Lucy is generally inclined to watch her language, but she's muttering curses off and on that would make the knights she once rode with and the sailors on the Dawn Treader and the schoolmates of her brothers good and proud.

It's cathartic.

At least, it's keeping her from throwing the stupid thing in the lake.

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She laughs, and it's a different sort of laugh as she looks at the lake, careful and controlled.

"Captain Sparrow, I do believe you'd have fit in well at court Cair Paravel, if you'd chosen to. And aye." It's a little softer as she looks down at it, and her smile's a little crooked.

"A guide, to show me the way home, I'm told."

"Not much of one for formality and courts," he says with a shrug, and then looks at her compass again.

"Ah." A beat. "And where does it point for you, then."

It's not exactly a question.

"I wasn't either," she says and it's a little bit distant and a little bit far away.

"You learn to be, because you have to. And the benefit of being queen is that you have the ability to make it all tolerable. And none can fault you for long for pulling a prank or two."

She looks down at the compass after a moment and her smile's still careful.

"Home. The problem is that I can't decide where that is, mayhap. North and east are the easier answers."

"And so it points to both, never making up its mind."

He raises a finger, stabbing it at the air in emphasis, as he says,

"The problem is, luv, that you want too much."

There's silence for a moment as she looks at the

(ocean, Chiara's in the ocean)

lake, and then she looks back at him.

Her smile is very faint, and her eyes are a little tired, and so much older than nineteen.

They're always older, though, really.

"You know, I told my husband that very thing. I don't think he realizes how much I mean it."

There's something intent in her gaze as her head tilts a little.

"And so do you, don't you?"

He snaps his compass shut, letting it fall back to the end of its cord once more, and shrugs elaborately.

"I've come to terms with it."

She's still smiling as she looks back at the water.

"If you had, you wouldn't keep that compass so close at hand, Captain Sparrow." It's said softly, as she looks at her own and closes it gently, like something precious.

"And where does yours point?"

"Not that simple, lass," he says. "Not so easy as all that."

Jack shrugs, then lifts it up once more and opens it so that she can see clearly, as he focuses all his attention on the slender needle.

The compass spins, points toward the bar, and then resumes circling, back and forth, without ceasing.

"If I thought it were something simple, my own wouldn't circle near as much as it does," she points out, tone still soft as she looks at his.

"Home isn't where the heart is, but what it wants, I'm learning."

"Now you're catching on," he tells her, but there's nothing of humor in his darkly sardonic grin.

"How it works is simple enough, savvy? This compass points to the thing what you want most in the world."

He snaps it shut again, then lets it fall once more.

"Works as simple as that. It's the want that's the trick to it."

"I've had a few years to learn a few things," she grins back.

Her own is held against her chest, for a moment, as she looks back at the bar.

"I don't know that mine's so very different. I was told I was in need of a guide to know where home was. It points to two things, though, and Lion help me, I don't know which I want more."

It's a short laugh, and a tired one. "Bloody trick, really."

He's quiet for a moment, watching her, and the look on Jack Sparrow's face is one of understanding.

"Come a time when it doesn't," he says, "when it points one way and stays -- you'll want to heed it, lass."

Jack leans against the rail and absently winds a hanging piece of rope around his left hand as he talks.

"For you'll never find anything else more important than that, savvy? And come the time when it does -- the opportune moment -- you've got to take what you want, and hold on to it with all that you have, or you'll regret it like nothing else in the world."

"Would you listen, Captain Sparrow, if I told you a story?" she asks, finally, and it's the water she's looking at as she traces the edge of the compass again.

"Aye."

Now that his hand's firmly wound in the rope, he hasn't moved, and he's watching her, not the lake.

"I would."

"When I was a little girl, I stumbled through a wardrobe into another world. And they made me a queen, and my sister a queen, and our brothers kings, in the end. We were very good rulers."

There's no shame in saying this, because she knows it to be true.

"I was twenty-five years old when we left. Back to England, back to the wardrobe. Back to being ten years old. And I thought my heart would break, to leave the life I'd have, to leave the self I was, behind.

"I went back, though. Twice more. The last time--the last time, I fell into a painting of a ship, with my cousin and brother. Fell into the water, and for a moment, I thought for certain I'd drown. You can only swim so long."

She looks down at the compass, and she considers, briefly, tossing it into the lake.

But she doesn't.

"But he dove in and pulled me out and to the ship. Caspian, I mean. And it was one of the most wonderful and painful times of my life. The sea--it was home, more than any other part of Narnia. He crowned me in its name, and I never happier than when I was on it, I think. I never hated being a little girl again so very much as I did on that ship, Jack. The thing is--the thing is, when he looked at me, I felt for a moment like he could see me the age I felt. And I wanted to stay. I would have traded away anything I had if they'd let me stay, because Caspian looked at me like I was more than a silly schoolgirl. One night when I was shaking from fear, he held me til I could sleep. And when I went up into a magician's house to break a spell--he was so utterly furious with me, Captain, he was so worried. For that, I would have given up anything. For his looks and his arms around me and his fury."

When Lucy talks, it's matter of fact, and her tone shifts from something that was a bit formal to something that's softer.

"But I wasn't allowed to. And I had to leave him, and--and now I'm not so certain that it was how things had to be, but it was how they were. I thought I'd never see him again, truthfully. As much as I wanted to. And then he was here, and in the end...it worked out. It's funny, but I'm still surprised by that." Her smile's very small. "The thing is--the thing is, there's nothing I want more than to be with him. And the thing is, there's nothing I want more than to leave. And the bloody needle's still spinning. And if it stops on the option that's not him--"

Lucy stops at that, but her chin is high as ever as she looks over at Jack.

He's looking down at her with that same darkly ironic understanding clear in the black eyes.

"Then you'll know, luv."

"Aye." And it's wistful, and it's mournful, because some things it's kinder to deny than accept.

"You're a good man," she says after a moment, still looking at him, "Captain." And her smile's a little more genuine as she says, "Shan't tell a soul it's so, though."

It's still genuine, but not quite as playful as Lucy adds, "And you? When it stops spinning, will you hold on tight to what it point at?"

"All evidence to the contrary," he says.

Jack looks away from her toward the mainmast, smiling ironically to himself.

"Already have."

Her eyes watch him for a moment, and then she says only, voice still soft and even, "I thought I had, once. I'm not so certain now."

There's two rings on her hand, and she twists the one on her third finger, slowly, and suspects that if she goes out the door soon her hand will be bare.

But what she says is only, "I envy you that."

He slants a look at her, and then Jack grins wryly and reaches out to put a finger under her chin, tipping her head back slightly.

"Chin up, luv," he says, not unkindly. "It'll come out all right. One way or the other."

Her smile is bright and true, and if her eyes are tired yet and still too old for her face, they smile as well.

"Aye. So it always does, in the end."

She leans in enough to kiss the other cheek than the one she kissed at the wedding before leaning back.

"And I thank you for not letting me forget it for too long. Sooner or later--I'll find what I need to hold on to. In the meantime," and the Pearl is scanned, "I should like to help, if there's anything on your lady that requires it."

He looks down at her, and then a sudden wicked grin appears as Jack nods toward the quarterdeck, where he's been working painstakingly on mending sail.

"... don't suppose you sew, lass?"

She smiles more widely and says, as she walks toward the sail, "Aye, that I can." Not as fancily as Susan, but her stitches are good and firm.

"And in return, Jack," she grins as she sits and finds the needle, pulling the cloth to her lap, "you'll provide a lady a drink, I should hope?"

He laughs at that loudly and it's barely a minute before he fetches the bottle and offers it to her. Her eyes are now only laughing as she looks up at him to take the rum before down at the cloth and begins to hum.

(But the standing toast / That pleased the most, / Was 'The wind that blows, / The Ship that goes, / And the lass that loves a sailor!')

It's not, possibly, the most queenly of songs. And it's not, possibly, the most proper way to spend an afternoon.

But her smile as she begins to mend the first tear (and after taking a long swallow of the liquid) is softer than it was. Softer, but true, and if the compass is still in her pocket, she's not thinking on it now.

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