lucetilogs | I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch; Love is Not a Victory March

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I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch; Love is Not a Victory March

Who:

lists_to_port
What: Seeking Refuge at Cullen House
When: Monday evening, after this.
Where: Cullen House
Summary: 8| and :(
Rating: It's scaling toward a very emo PG at this point.

"Now watch yer step, Bonesy---this path's a bit iced over today." Jack Sparrow picked his way easily across said icy path, completely ignoring the Are We There Yet--

Damn it, why am I calling her that now?!

--because looking at the boat made him think of Jilly, and he did not want to think of her right now. Looking at her also made him think of Buffy, and he did not want to think of her, either. Of course, what one wants and what one actually gets are often two drastically different animals, and Jack was very busy having a lovely garden party in his head with both women in attendance.

It was the sort of garden party where it rains, and everyone's hats get wet, and then horribly misshapen lobster monsters rise up from beneath the crudité and finger-sandwich cart and begin attacking the guests, and the only thing you can do is draw your sword and try to fight them off, and the hats end up getting even wetter because of course it starts to rain HARDER, and that one lummox who always shows up uninvited complains about the state of the brie.

"Bonesy.....where.........where are we goin', again?"

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He made a noncommittal reply, but was apparently satisfied that the treatment was working for him. Whether he had asked this question because he was concerned or worried about being clobbered over the head by one of the numerous Fetches whispering to him wasn't exactly clear.

"Do you believe in the body's innate recuperative powers?"

"I've been thrown off a two hundred foot cliff by Pelegostan grannies hurling pineapples at my head, Bonesy. My body? It recuperates."

An opportunity to forget what was on his mind. He took it without hesitation: "I don't think I've heard that story."

And this one? Is a long one. Jack settles back on the couch, his sandwich forgotten.

"Bloody cannibals, all of them--but they made me their chief. This came with the problematic yet rather poetic side issue of the fact that they also wanted to eat me, Bonesy. Roasted. With a side of coconut milk."

He raises an eyebrow. For someone who was almost roasted alive by some primitive culture, it didn't seem to unnerve him that much, considering all the dried-out salamanders he brought him while he was under the weather. Bouncing back so easily from something like that; it was vexing.

"Are you sure they just didn't like you?" McCoy asked with a trace of his trademark sarcasm as he lifted the bottle of scotch to his mouth. To hell with using a glass, it would only slow him down.

"Oh, I'm sure they were fond of me in their own way, dear children. Pelegosto: very fast runners. Also, fond of dogs."

The pirate noticed the doctor's use of the bottle rather than the glass and his eyes widened slightly.

"Is it your aim to drink yourself into a stupor McCoy?"

"That's the plan."

Well this did not best please Jack Sparrow, who was fond of a gentle buzz that made the world more colorful and pleasant to be in.

"Look, it's none of my business, McCoy---but just tell her how you feel."

Was he mollycoddling him? He gave the pirate a sidelong glance – was this really coming from the man who usually drank himself under the table when he was in this type of mood? Pot calling the kettle black and it reflected in his tone as he narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't even know how I feel." He retorted in slightly confused vehemence and it was true. A week of manipulation had taken its toll on him; that is what he would keep saying. "Look at where I am. You're supposed to be scourge of the seas, not a psychiatrist."

"Can a scourge of the seas not also be a psychiatrist, Bonesy? When I took Raine out drinkin' that night, I knew she'd show another side. The girl can really open up. Not so formal all the time, is she? You could woo her."

He remembered the evening on Valentine's Day and the casualness between the two of then that he would probably fail to ever recapture again. If it would be awkward for him, no doubt it would be for her. "It's none of your business. You should stop trying to corrupt her."

"Well I was just trying to show her a good time, wasn't I? And we HAD one. Us. Or perhaps she'll simply invite you out for a good time."

Irrational jealously boiled in his gut when he heard him say that and he retaliated by jabbing the pirate in the ribs with his elbow. First he had taunted him with barbs about Emony being invisible and now this. He couldn't decide whether it was remnants of the experiment playing with his mind or genuine feelings which caused him to strike out.

"She's a school teacher, damn it. You can't go out getting her drunk every night." It was easy to lecture him. "Just leave her alone. Please."

"Oi! I didn't make her do anything she didn't WANT to, mate!"

"Can you go five minutes without lying?"

"Why would I lie about Mistress Raine? I owe her my life, McCoy."

And he also owes you, doctor. Jack Sparrow is not known for paying off debts, ever. But he rather likes being in Raine's debt. It's pleasant, somehow.

He knew what debt he was referring to. When his mind was in overdrive, he could still see the dried blood on the porch steps and feel the same panic grip his chest. And as a response failed to materialize, he opted to scowl darkly at Jack instead.

"No worries, McCoy--I'm in no hurry to be put into any position to return the favor." The pirate swirls the rum about in the bottle, examining the color of the liquid appreciatively.

"How can I not worry?"

"Well I could knock you over the head again. It might hurt, but you wouldn't be thinkin' about it."

The pirate was KIDDING, but he knew that McCoy would very likely hit him for saying such a thing. And to be honest, he thought it might be good for the man to get some of this anger out somehow.

"If you do that, I'll sedate your ass." He threatened the pirate in a low, trembling voice. The joke did a good job of riling his temper, but he refrained from striking out for the comment despite how satisfying it would be. He had to remember the oath.

"It was a mistake coming out here."

"Not a mistake. What do you want of me, McCoy? Hm? You came here for a reason. I want to know what that is. Your purpose, here."

"You're the one who invited me here."

"Pfft. That's not why you came. Out with it: what's to gain from refuge here, hm? Better to throw yourself at her feet, isn't it?"

Now one would have to question whether Sparrow was talking about what HE should do or what McCoy should do. Because clearly he is speaking about more than just their current situation.

"I'm not..." He begun, but hesitated. He hadn't even begun to consider how she was dealing with the repercussions of this experiment and it was evident on his face. Should he throw himself at her feet? And for what? Showing her a good time while he was under the illusion of loving her? That wasn't how he operated... the same thing had happened with Emony Dax and it had taken him an evening to figure out how much of an ass he had been to her. "You don't know anything."

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