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Long drabble: "Act of Contrition"

  • Feb. 20th, 2013 at 10:05 AM
Title: Act of Contrition
Author: phoenix_9664
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/E
Disclaimer: Disney rules the seas.
A/N: A response to the blackpearlsails challenge “Apology.” I quickly abandoned my customary, and slavish, fidelity to the 100-word form, because the conversation took off. Enjoy!

“Why not just admit you’re afraid?” Elizabeth’s chin was up, a bad sign.

“Am not! Slander and calumny.” Jack stalked in a small circle. “Just don’t see the necessity.”

“The necessity,” she hissed, “arises from my having seen you quite clearly with your arm about that doxy in the green dress.”

“Bein’ friendly, love. Where’s the harm?”

She glared.

He tried another tack. “You know, Elizabeth, jealousy does not become you. Suggests a certain lack of faith.”

“Pardon me: you accuse me of faithlessness? That’s rich!” She spun away from him. “No, Jack, you can’t weasel out. You’re going to have to face up and do the thing.”

He sniffed, rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking pointedly away.

“That is,” she continued, in a much silkier voice, “if you wish to continue the sort of . . . amicable relations . . . we’ve maintained in the past . . . .” She turned, slowly and, smiling, walked toward the door to the Great Cabin.

Jack was motionless, save for his eyes, suddenly wide and sharp with alarm. He bolted after her. “Now listen, darling, no need for hasty measures. Surely we can discuss this in private.” He attempted to slip an arm about her waist but was rebuffed.

“Nothing really to discuss, Jack.” She continued walking.

His shoulders slumped and his eyes rose to the clouds. “All right! All right. I . . . . “

She stopped, but didn’t turn. He glanced down the deck and lowered his voice to a mutter. “I . . . apol . . . Iapologizeallright?!”

She turned slowly, and waited.

“I . . . apologize.”

“I’m not sure your apology merits much credence.”

“Bloody hell, Lizzie!”

“Are you sure you’re not saying it simply to regain my favor . . . and my favors?” She approached him slowly, eyes wide.

He took a deep breath. “What is it I can do to persuade you of my . . . contrition?” He tried to avoid a sarcastic edge on the final word.

The edges of her lips curled. She moved closer and slipped a hand around his neck, under his dreads. “Now, that’s something we can discuss.”

Relief, and a jolt of electricity in the loins. “In . . . the cabin?”

She leaned in and whispered, “In the cabin.”

“I’ll be extremely contrite,” he murmured into her hair. “I promise you.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you will.” And she backed away, holding his hand, towing him after.