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DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT Author: Jac Disclaimer: Ain't mine. Summary: A meeting in the moonlight. Author's Note: Response to a challenge by Piratecharli, hope you like this. I will do my best to do your challenge justice! * * * * * You pull your long hair into a secure bun fastened by a diamond-crusted clip. You have given Elizabeth your word that you would attend her and the apparent noble Mr Turner’s ball this evening. You had tried to think of an excuse you could use to decline her offer but you could think of nothing, you had no choice but to go. You don’t have a problem with Elizabeth. Although you can not say the same for her soon becoming husband. In many respects that is what made this evening all the more difficult to refuse attendance but even harder still to show as this ball was a celebration of their upcoming wedding. It wasn’t so much that William Turner had done anything to upset you personally as a person. It was something he had done to upset not only your but your entire family’s moral values as regards society. You have heard the tale of how he saved a somewhat eccentric pirate Captain from the wrath of the hangman’s noose. You have been brought up in an upper class family with. You have been taught to understand the evil and almost unnatural life of Pirates. You still don’t understand how Elizabeth could wish to be marrying a man who has potentially lowered Port Royal’s strong anti pirate policy. You have heard the tales of their “adventures” with the infamous Jack Sparrow. That is all you believe them to be. You see Elizabeth’s tales as being severely hyperbolised. You sigh heavily as you look at your reflection in the mirror. This is the last thing you are in the mood for doing however you head downstairs to bid farewell to your parents before leaving. “You look beautiful dear,” your mother says as you bid to kiss her goodbye. You glance down at your black corseted dress that compliment the selection of diamond necklace and earrings your mother insists you wear when you go out to be sure people are aware of your position in society. Your father gives you an approving nod as you head towards the carriage. You feel a sense of dread setting as the carriage approaches the Swann household. As the carriage comes to a stop you step out the carriage and prepare to plaster a fake grin on your face and brace yourself for a night of idle chit chart that still must have a degree of class integrated into it to remind people of your position. You adopt a graceful walk towards the door. You stop midway and whip round you could have sworn you saw a figure in the shadows watching you. Your eyes scan the area around you and you see nothing. You push the thought from your mind. You silently scold yourself for allowing your mind to get carried away with its self like that. You force back a groan when the door is opened by none other than William Turner. “Mr Turner,” you say dropping down into a polite curtsey. You take hold of his outstretched hand. “It is a pleasure to see you here,” he says. If you were in the mood to laugh you would have. You could tell straight off William was no happier at your arrival than you were. You guessed news of your dislike of him had spread fast. In truth you didn’t care. It was true, you didn’t like him. You were very much prepared to be civil with the man but you had no intentions on pulling the stops out to make him like you. You were just about to dive into some polite conversation when you are pulled aside by Commodore Norrington. “Good evening Miss,” he said taking your hand to kiss it but pausing halfway to his lips. “That is quite a remarkable ring for a woman of your young age,” he comments. You smile warmly at him. You have found a mutual ground with the man. You do not believe he is as bad as most others believe he is. You believe people seem to forget that he must behave the way he does as it comes with the territory of his job. “Yes it was my grandmothers. I found it in a cupboard not so long ago. I remember thinking it’s so beautiful. I thought it would be better if someone wore it as apposed to it being hidden in the darkness gathering dust,” you say with a smile. “Quite right my dear,” Norrington says, returning the smile. You smile warmly to him again then excuse yourself. You see Elizabeth deep in conversation with her fiancées arm around her. You use this as a chance to slip outside. The cool air offers you a relief from the almost overwhelming stuffiness of the party. You let down your hair, which was starting to fall out and let it flow free. A noise catches your attention. You turn to see a silhouette of a man in the shadows. “May I help you sir?” you enquire politely as you attempt to see him a little better but the silver glow from the moon didn’t prove to be much of an aid. There is no response but there is something about the figures breathing that you don’t like, it sounds laboured, strained. “Are you alright sir?” you ask, coming a little closer. As you come closer you see that the man is hunched over slightly his roguish features laced with pain. “No lass just get me Mr Turner and ensure ‘e comes alone,” Jack answers, forcing the pain from his voice. He didn’t know who this girl was he wasn’t about to let any barriers down. You sigh slightly wishing you knew who this man was. The only thing you knew about him was he was hurt and knew William, not that you were going to hold that against the man, at least not right away. Before you can ask any more questions Jack lets out an involuntary strangled cry. You gasp in horror as he sinks to the grass blood seeping through his hands in alarming quantities. You move quickly to the man’s side. You bend down next to him as you attempt to help him. You stop midway as his shirt falls back revealing the “P” the mark of a pirate. “You’re a pirate,” you mutter darkly horror clear in your face and words. “Now… that’s… very… interesting…” Jack comments between shocks of pain that ran through his body. “What is,” you ask coolly. “Blood is streaming from me stomach an’ what scares yeh is the “p”, the dreaded branding. Tell yeh what lass, why don’t yeh go, rest assured…..another pirate has been removed from the world,” Jack says bitterly through his pain. “Don’t judge me like that pirate!” you snap. “I may not like pirates but even I am not heartless enough to watch you lie here and bleed to death,” you snap hotly. It is then you realise just how narrow-minded and aristocratically minded you have been. What lay before you was not a “good for nothing man” but a man who was injured and clearly in need of help. “No offence meant luv. I just would rather spend me final moments ‘ere in peace than with someone who judges me based on a branding,” Jack says in a tone of weariness not just as result of his injury but of the constant struggle to be accepted and known as something more than a stereotypical good for nothing pirate. You quickly tear some material from your dress to press against his wound. You frown at just how quickly the material is drenched in his blood. You take the quickly fading pirate in your arms as you apply more pressure to the wound. “Perhaps we should take this else where,” he quips in an attempt to cling to any part of himself that still may be there. “I would like that but it seems you are in no condition to go anywhere,” you tease back lightly. You feel a connection you would never have expected to find with this man that lay dying in your arms. He gently swats your hands away as you attempt to apply more pressure to the wound. You sigh when you realise he had already accepted his death, he had fought the final battle and now the war was over. Death had made its mark. You find your lips nearing his as you brush his braided locks back from his face. His lips come into connection with yours. The kiss has a shattering power and strength that should not be present in his condition. He tasted of rum. You see a barely touched bottle near him. You guess he had been attempting to still his pain. You stroke his hair lightly as his breathing grows fainter. “Did you know your sleeve is undone darling?” he mutters. You look down and see he’s correct, just as his eyes closed and his shallow breathing ceased. Hot tears slip down your face. Why has his death upset you so much? He was a pirate. Why should you care? “Who are you, apart from a stranger in the moonlight?” you ask, the fact you will receive no answer upsetting you more. You know that’s all he will ever be, a stranger in the moonlight. Deep down you believe if given the chance he could have been so much more. THE END |