for drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

It has been most of a month now since Jack came to Gondor's shores, a good two weeks since Faramir returned to Ithilien. Éowyn has meant, every day, to tell him the truth; every day, she has shied away from it. It isn't out of fear for her own sake, or Jack's, but when she comes to speak to Faramir, sees the familiar lines of his face and the gentle look in his eyes, she can't bring herself to hurt him that way. She keeps telling herself the time will come, must come, that she isn't avoiding it but only waiting. Deep down, though, she knows full well there's never going to be a right time, that she'll never tell him if things go on this way, and perhaps Jack was right, perhaps that's for the best. She's kept away from Jack for the most part, giving his care over to one of the serving-men of the household, and she's certainly never repeated the mistake of that first morning back in Ithilien. Faramir knows something is wrong, she can tell that much, but perhaps if she just lets it lie, tries to get back to normal...

It would be easier if everything else went back to normal around her. But it doesn't. It takes her a few days to be sure, to count off the days and know she isn't just being paranoid, that she really ought to have bled by now. She keeps hoping for a day or so after that, but when she comes back from her afternoon ride, strips down to change into a dress, and finds her underthings still clean, hope shrivels to despair.

Faramir is out, luckily. Éowyn dresses as quickly as she can, and tries to steady herself, to wipe away the tears that haven't quite spilled over, before taking a deep breath and heading out into the hallway. Jack's guard is outside his room, and looks at her with clear concern, but when she dismisses him, he goes without argument.

She locks the door behind her, not lingering in the doorway this time but crossing right over to Jack and grabbing his arm. The tears are threatening again, and there's a light in her eyes that isn't remotely one of happiness. "Jack. Listen to me."

Comments

switching accounts seemed appropriate here

[nearamir]

Perhaps two hours have passed since Éowyn left, when the key clicks in the lock and the door opens. It isn't Éowyn in the doorway, though, but Faramir. He's still dressed in the clothes he rode out in, forest-green and well-worn, his hair still braided back for riding. His swordbelt is buckled to his side, but the sheath is empty, as are his hands. His face is always grave, but now it is positively stony, his lips pressed together, something fell and distant in his eyes.

With a brisk wave of his hand, he wordlessly signals the guard beside him, who steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind him, leaving the two men alone. It's a moment before Faramir speaks, but it's not a silence that invites interruption.

"I will not ask if what she says is true," he says at last, his voice soft and more sad than angry. No need for preamble: from what Éowyn told him, he's sure Jack knows exactly what he means. "Only this - and answer me truly, for I am sick to the bone of falsity. Did you come with this in mind?"

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack's head turns when the lock clicks, gaze lifted from the cloth knot in his hands over to the doorway. He hadn't been sure whether to expect Eowyn or Faramir, when the time came -- or if it would be armed guards that would come to his room, had the conversation gone poorly. Upon seeing that it's Faramir, however, Jack slides his feet from off the table and sets aside the cloth, straightening in his seat.

He hasn't given thought to what he'd say during those two hours, preferring instead to feel out the mood and wing it as he went. He doesn't speak out of turn once the door shuts, waiting for Faramir to initiate; in the meantime, Jack has defaulted back to that composed, calm demeanor that comes natural to him in tense situations.

Faramir's question brings a pause from him. Don't lie, she'd told him. "I hadn't planned for it when I came, no." Which is honest. He hadn't thought Eowyn would give him the time of day, with her husband back in the picture. And, at the very start, Jack had tried to hold back, with his own self-preservation in mind. That hadn't lasted long, clearly. "I hadn't ... meant for it to happen."

Had it been on his mind, however? Certainly. Ever since she'd swept into that cell and he'd laid eyes on her, wrenching back all those memories from Panem that he'd buried during that first month home carousing and pirating. But he doesn't offer that tidbit. He's not sure Faramir would appreciate hearing how he'd been lusting after his wife. "It just -- " He gestures some, "-- happened."

[nearamir]

"It just happened," Faramir repeats, quietly, and sighs. Silence hangs on him, heavy as a shroud. He's never been a man of many words, never - even in such a situation as this - one to speak without thinking. Perhaps especially in such a situation. There are too many thoughts to sort through, too few words to make them fit. He is angry, yes - but the anger is almost an afterthought to grief and shame.

He steps away from the door, a little closer to Jack as he looks the other man up and down searchingly. Then, clasping his hands behind his back, he clears his throat.

"She will carry it," he says at last. "This has done hurt enough already. There is no reason to endanger her for it. She will carry the child, and I will love it as my own, though what will become of such a child when they are grown, I know not."

It's matter-of-fact, and if it weren't for the look in his eyes and the tightness of his posture, he might have been discussing the weather. There's a part of him that says he ought to leave it at that. Warn Jack off touching her again, on pain of death, and turn away, and find a way through this maze of confusion somewhere away from the eyes of the man who brought it about.

Instead, he abruptly moves to sit, his shoulders slumping, his breath, for a moment, catching.

"What is it, that drew you together?" he asks, then shakes his head, as if scolding himself. "Nay, not what drew you to her. That I know. She is a fair lady, and bold. But what is it that you give to her, that I cannot?"

[drinkupmehearties]

He instinctively stiffens at Faramir's approach, expectant, gaze fixed on the man. When Faramir merely speaks, however, Jack eases a little and settle back. He wouldn't have blamed the man if he'd outright clocked him, but he's more than happy that he'd chosen not to. "A sensible choice, for certain." He's relieved to hear it, mostly because Faramir raising it would absolve Jack from having any responsibility for the child.

For a few brief moments, it looks like the conversation may be done. Then Faramir seats himself, and Jack leans back into his own chair. Not out of the wood yet, it'd seem.

The question draws a faint frown onto his face, something that looks almost like sympathy edging into his eyes. He's silent a couple beats, considering his answer, then clears his throat. "What drew us together? Circumstance, I would suspect. I assume she's told you about what'd been done to her in Panem, the horrid things that the Capitol put us through." He rubs his thumb against his lip, eyes momentarily distant. "I'd wager she'd sought comfort, in such a brutal place." For him, even if that hadn't been the whole picture (Panem or not, Jack has always been a rake), that had certainly played a part in his pursuit of her. He'd been starved for affection, for touch, knowing that within the next day, or even hour, the Capitol could force him to fight for his life again.

His gaze focuses back on Faramir, hand dropping away to rest on his leg. "All the same, I can't rightly speak for her on that." Especially with regards to their recent escapade. "You're a decent man, mate. She speaks highly of you, and has told me plenty about her love for you."

[nearamir]

Faramir's smile is thin and sad, and for a moment, his only response. A decent man. Given the situation, that feels hollow, to say the least.

He can believe what Jack's saying. It isn't how he would react himself - he's always been a closed-off man in that way, never the most sexual at the best of times - but he's led enough men in hard times to know that it's not unusual. And he can see it from Éowyn, a way to take her mind off imprisonment, especially if she didn't know she'd ever come home again. He can't blame her for that, and honestly, can't even blame himself. If it were only that, he could let it go, he thinks. It would grieve him, but he could let it go.

But that it happened here, in his own home? He's angry at her, and angry at Jack, but mostly he's angry at himself, because all he can think is that Jack offers her something he hasn't brought to their marriage. That, once again, he's let someone he loves down. Is it his absences? Or is it something more?

"Do you love her?" he asks abruptly, looking up and meeting Jack's eyes.

[drinkupmehearties]

Panem serves as a simple answer -- but not a satisfactory or very complete one, Jack knows, in light of what's happened. He's only ever heard from Eowyn how wonderful Faramir is, how much love she has for the man. And not knowing their relationship much beyond that, what might be lacking in it, and with seeing how much this all must pain Faramir, Jack hadn't wanted to openly speculate and twist the knife in deeper.

But, truth be told, he's seen an intensity to her, a wildness in her that matches well with his own. If there is an answer to why here and why now, perhaps that plays a part in it. He couldn't say that for certain, however.

Faramir's next question draws a bit of a reaction from him, a sharp blink and sudden tension that coils into his shoulders. No, of course not is the first response that Jack nearly blurts out, mouth open already to say it. Except, the words don't actually make it out. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat instead, and it takes a moment for him to actually answer.

"I care for her." Quite a lot, judging by the tone of his voice and the way Jack says it. His mouth presses. "She's madly in love with you, mate, if that's your worry. She's made that quite clear."

[nearamir]

"If that were my worry, I would have said as much." Faramir's voice is soft, but there's a steel behind his tone that says he doesn't much appreciate the comment. Éowyn already told him she loves him, and on that matter as on many others, he trusts her a lot more than he trusts a corsair - one who's made a cuckold of him, no less.

But the answer itself - that gives him pause. It might, perhaps, have been easier if Jack had said no, or if he seemed false. If this were as simple as a rake seducing a troubled woman, only because she was there. But that doesn't seem to be the case, and while it's something of a relief to know she hasn't been being used, it doesn't make any of this matter easier to handle.

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet again. "I have to think," he says aloud, not to Jack so much as the room in general. For a moment, he's silent and still, and then, without a hint of irony, he turns a little and inclines his head to Jack - not a bow, but a clear acknowledgement. "Thank you. For your honesty. Know that I will not have this sour me against your case, nor do you an injustice from my own wrath."

[drinkupmehearties]

He dips his head with a nod. "O' course, that's fair. Weren't my place." He doesn't mind the chiding undertone to Faramir's remark -- perhaps even actually prefers it, in place of the difficult questions Faramir keeps asking him. Honestly Jack is glad for anything at all, really, that would help to redirect the conversation away from his own personal feelings in this matter. He'd already offered out more than he'd cared for, in his attempt to be honest.

Jack clasps his palms together as Faramir stands, and the gratitude in his eyes is quite sincere. "I'm very much obliged for that, mate. You're a generous man." More generous than the men that Jack knew, who were more given to holding grudges than they were to practicing forgiveness or leniency of any kind.

[nearamir]

"No. Only an honest one." Faramir's lips thin for a moment. Not that you would know much of either, he almost says. Almost. It's with an effort that he bites it back, because he can see just how petty that is, and he's trying to be an adult over all of this. Be a good man, the kind she deserves and ought to have.

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, and turns away, knocking briskly on the door, three times. It opens a moment later, and he looks back from the doorway, still and quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, and leaves. The guard closes the door behind him, and the key clicks in the lock, and that's that.

That is, for some hours. When he returns, it's dark outside, the candles and lanterns of the castle being lit up and down the hall. This time, when the door opens, there are two figures in the doorway. Éowyn hangs a step or two behind her husband, her eyes downcast, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable in her skin.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack is draped on a chair near the fireplace when Faramir comes back hours later, warming himself and idly watching the flames crackle and dance. He rises to his feet when the door opens, however, and Jack quickly notices that Faramir's brought company with him.

"Evenin'." His eyes drift over to Eowyn lingering back in Faramir's shadow, searching her face for a hint as to what her presence meant. Then his gaze returns to Faramir, and Jack offers a smooth, cordial smile. "To you both."

It doesn't show in his face or body language, but a twinge of apprehension is working its way into him. The conversation with Faramir hadn't been too excruciating -- and hadn't, by his reckoning, gone all too sour -- but with Eowyn here this time, Jack finds himself uncertain.

[shieldofrohan]

Faramir inclines his head a little, expression inscrutable, and gestures Éowyn through the door before closing it. The lock clicks again, from outside. Wordlessly, he crosses over to the nearest seat, settling himself, his gaze holding on Jack a moment longer before he looks expectantly at his wife.

She hasn't chosen to sit. She lingers near the door, hands clasped behind her back, her lips pressed taut. When Faramir looks at her, she looks back at him for a moment, not quite pleading but closer to it than she ever ordinarily looks, then nods.

"You ought to know," she says to Jack, a trifle stiffly, "that coming here was his idea, as much as mine. Talking in twos, when there are three of us so entangled..." It isn't enough. Faramir was the one to say it, but she does agree. This is wisest.

It's just also very, very uncomfortable.

Faramir is still silent, one finger tapping thoughtfully against his lips, eyes flicking between the two of them, as if gauging the air between them. Éowyn glances at him again, sighs, and continues.

"I took your keeping as a duty, and I have not been discharged of it. You will stay here, that much we know. As to the rest..." Again, she trails off, blushing a little.

[drinkupmehearties]

His attention rests over onto Eowyn as she speaks, but Jack can almost still feel Faramir scrutinizing him from where he's seated. That doesn't make this easier by any stretch -- particularly because Eowyn keeps shooting looks her husband's way -- but Jack remains in place and continues to appear, for his part, fairly relaxed.

He does make a mental note to try to be on his better behavior when speaking; Faramir would most likely not be keen on him addressing Eowyn with terms that were too overly familiar. Even if it is a mostly innocuous habit of his.

Once she mentions she'll still be minding him, however, surprise flickers across Jack's face. He'd have thought Faramir would want him far away after learning the truth. Maybe even somewhere else entirely. His gaze flits to Faramir, briefly, then returns to her.

"What of the rest?"

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn doesn't answer. Her hands fidget, dropping to her sides, twisting against the cloth of her skirt. She opens her mouth, closes it again. She's always considered herself bold and brave, but right now, she's never felt more cowardly. This ought to be a part of her penance, of making things right, but her considerable courage seems to have failed her, swept away by shame. Although she has no right to ask anything of him, she looks imploringly at Faramir, silently begging him to step in.

He obliges, with only a slight hesitation of his own. Dropping his hand back into his lap, he clears his throat and focuses his attention on Jack. His voice is still clipped and correct, but a closer look would reveal the deepening colour on his own cheeks.

"You give her something I do not." He presses his lips together, looks away. The effort it's taking him to remain this calm is, for a moment, very clear. "I know not what that is, if 'tis only warmth when I am not here to offer it, or... or more. But you meet in her something I cannot." His hands, slender and calloused, clench into fists for a moment, and he bites his lip hard, looking for a moment less lordly and more lost. Then he lets out a long breath, looking this time not at Jack but at Éowyn, though he still seems to be addressing the pirate. "I have loved her since I laid eyes on her for her freedom, for her strength. Since I first saw her, I have wanted to ease her sorrow and her grief, to bring her out of the Shadow. I will not be that shadow myself."

Another deep breath. Tears glitter in his eyes. In Éowyn's, too, as she crosses the space between them, holding Faramir's hand tightly between her own, guilt and grief and love on her face.

"You need not," she whispers, and that clearly is to him, Jack forgotten for the moment. "You need not, love."

"I will not be that shadow," he repeats, in the same low, private tone. "That cage. I will not."

[drinkupmehearties]

He isn't certain, at first, that he's heard Faramir correctly. Then the impact of what's been said actually settles, and the played up nonchalance that Jack's been putting on falters. This isn't punishment. It isn't Faramir threatening damnation and hell-fire if Jack ever touched or went near his wife again, like he'd assumed. Quite the opposite.

He isn't sure how to react and can't, for the moment, meet either of their eyes. Instead, Jack finds himself surprised by how glad hearing it makes him. He'd been ready for that imagined talk from Faramir, primed to write her off as another lay and move on. It's how the cards were laid when it came to things like this, sometimes. And Jack has had square with that truth more than once in his life.

However. He hadn't said it aloud in his conversation with her, but Jack hadn't quite wanted to leave it at that. The two of them had a history, a friendship, an intimacy that's hard to for him to brush off so handily. And for Faramir to give what sounded like permission to continue?

His gaze lingers on Faramir, studying his expression, then Jack glances to Eowyn. "You are sure? Both o' you?"

[shieldofrohan]

For a moment, neither of them answers. There seems to be a kind of conversation between them, but one held only in looks; the questioning, the doubting, the decisive. Éowyn looks away first, turning her eyes back to Jack, though her hands stay clasped around Faramir's.

"I am sure of nothing," she says, quietly. Her voice is thick, her eyes glittering. She takes a deep breath, swallows, and speaks a little more steadily. "We have made our choices, Jack. This one is not mine, and I will not... 'Tis as ill to leap too readily to a gift as to rebuff it."

"A choice is no gift," Faramir reproves her, and shakes his head, wiping his eyes before he looks up at Jack. "As to sure... I know only that, in this moment, I see no better path. But if we are to travel this road, it must be with sense and reason. We must be circumspect, and not only for your position, but for ours. I said before, and I spoke truly, that I would take her child as mine - but it cannot be so again, and nor can there be too loud a question of whose child it is. I am the last of a long line, and ill would I leave it so, in anyone's mind. Mine included."

He takes another deep breath, setting his jaw. This has to be practical and considered. He cannot let grief and doubt and anger cloud him now.

"Éowyn, if you go to him, you must tell me. Jack, you will not speak to her too familiarly beyond these walls, nor of her. And..." Despite his best efforts, he falters, flushing crimson. "...And if, when, you... end, let it be outside of her, if you can."

[drinkupmehearties]

He nods in answer. As the two initially fall silent, Jack can't help but watch the quiet exchange unfold between them, the affection and understanding in their eyes clear as a cloudless day.

The two remind him quite a bit of Elizabeth and Will, in a way. He's not often seen that, particularly with the crew that Jack usually worked with; such devoted love didn't always fare well when one party sailed away every other day and brothels littered the ports like weeds. Most were looking for a quick lay anyways, not something that lasted past the night.

Once Faramir addresses him, Jack straightens. "Aye. That's the sensible way to go about it. Far as the rest here will be concerned, she's a stranger to me." He can see Faramir reddening at the last bit, and so smoothly continues, reassuring, "I've no intention of ... " He waves his hand, " ... takin' my chances at fatherhood again. You've me word on that." He's still ill at ease with the idea that she's carrying his child now, even if Faramir has pledged to raise it. And so he's not eager to gamble that a second time.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn reddens, too, her hand drifting unconsciously to her belly, but she nods. This is embarrassing, but she's grateful for it. For both of them. Most of all for Faramir, who is willing to sacrifice so much to her. That comes with a sick kind of guilt - has he not, after all, sacrificed enough?

Faramir, for his part, does not look at her. Inclining his head a little, he lets go of her hand and pushes himself to his feet. His back is straight, his shoulders back, his pose almost painfully dignified. "Then I ask no more," he says, quietly, and breathes in slowly. "I must think. Alone. Éowyn, if you will stay, stay." His tone is cool enough, but he pauses on the way out to brush a kiss to her cheek, tears stinging his eyes again.

When he is gone, she all but collapses into the seat he vacated, her head in her hands. "This is insanity," she says, not to Jack in particular but rather to the world at large.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack dips his head in a nod as Faramir stands to leave, thoughtfully silent as the other man parts from Eowyn and the door clicks closed behind him. He doesn't move at first, still partially lost in disbelief that it had actually gone this way.

Then his gaze shifts to Eowyn, slumped in the chair with her head in her hands, her expression shielded from view.

"Could be." He finally moves to sink into the chair nearest to her, sprawled onto it with an elbow propped on the chair's arm. "Wasn't at all how I expected that to turn out." He grazes a finger against the line of his jaw, then eventually gives her a sidelong glance. "Are you all right?"

[shieldofrohan]

"No." Éowyn looks up, her brow furrowed. She looks oddly young, oddly lost. "Or... perhaps. I know not." Her laugh is rather hollow, born of confusion more than humour. "Almost, I wish he had turned on me, hated me for it, raged and railed. At least then I would know how to feel. It would have been easy. It would have been deserved."

Sighing, she rakes both hands back through her hair, pushing it out of her face, and then wipes her eyes. There's no sense, she tells herself, in wishing for wrath. She doesn't want Faramir to be angry with her, after all. She loves him. But because she loves him, this frightens her - his acceptance of her betrayal, his forgiveness of her, when she fears he will not forgive himself. He has taken on the burden of what she and Jack have done, and taken it calmly and without fighting, and it unnerves her to think what that says of him. Or of her, that she let him.

She sighs again, biting her lip. "I do not think he means to make it harder," she says after a moment, slowly, "but I do not think I can come to you again, either. I owe him better than to have him feel replaced, to lock him out of that part of my life which most should be shared with husband and wife. Yet what choice is there, if we go on? He can hardly be a part of it." It's wistful, and there's something questioning in it, too, as if she's feeling out her position without knowing she's doing it: Can he?

[drinkupmehearties]

His own chuckle, low and short, is similar in kind to hers. "Aye. Rage and anger and the like. That's what I'd anticipated, meself." He'd been wholly prepared for that, or at least some semblance of that, since that was the way these things usually went. He'd know better how to feel, what to think, if that had been the case. This is new territory, as it is.

Jack doesn't seem much surprised by what she says next, nodding. "If that's what you'd like to do, luv." He'd had a feeling she'd react that way, was ready to accept that as a possibility as well. But still, Jack pauses and studies her face for a few moments, mulling over his next words. "With that said, if you chose otherwise and we were to continue on," his hand moves with a small gesture, "He wouldn't have to be locked out of it, eh?"

[shieldofrohan]

"And how would that be?" Ordinarily, that would probably come out caustic, a scornful expression of disbelief. But on this occasion, it's an honest question. She winds her fingers together, frowning uncertainly. In principle, she's in favour of making a space for Faramir in this. It seems, in a way, as sensible as their coming together to speak in the first place. Three people are involved in this, however it carries on: surely three people ought to share in it.

It's just that, to the best of her knowledge, sex is typically between two people. Typically a man and a woman, although if nothing else, her time in Panem has shown her that isn't a given.

"Have you done such a thing before?" she asks, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her bodice.

[drinkupmehearties]

She doesn't appear to be outright rejecting the idea, and so Jack sits up a little straighter in his seat, leaning into his elbow resting on the chair's arm. "I have. More'n a few times. I knew these Spanish twins, for example. Both women had such exquisite -- " Jack stops himself suddenly, glancing at Eowyn, then clears his throat.

" -- Anyhow, aye. With women, more times than with men involved. But I've done it." His preferences have always leaned heavily towards women in that regard, but that doesn't mean Jack hasn't indulged in his curiosity once in awhile -- especially when drunk and visiting brothels with a crewmate after a long voyage.

"There's plenty o' ways for him to be a part, so to speak. Certain positions. Depends on how creative you'd like to be."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn doesn't react to his comment about the Spanish girls, except perhaps that her blush deepens a shade or two. She's thinking. Thinking very hard, in fact, her brow creased deeply.

Is it right? Is it right to push Faramir further into this mess she's created? To draw all of them deeper? She has a sense that the right, noble thing to do would be to pull away, as she said just a moment ago, to appreciate Faramir's generosity in the matter and let it be an end to things. She should take control of herself, of her wants and desires, and not touch Jack, but focus on her marriage. On her duty.

But she isn't sure she can. She thinks, perhaps, this might not be honourable, but it is more so than taking Faramir's gift of forgiveness without a second thought for him.

"I shall bring him here," she decides aloud. "If he wishes it. Tonight."

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack falls quiet for the moment, allowing her the space to properly think over his suggestion. She seems to be intrigued by the idea, at the very least, which is an encouraging sign. Having Faramir join in with them would, perhaps, help to ease the guilt and apprehension she seems to have about sharing her bed with him. Jack certainly has no qualms with the idea, himself.

When she finally does answer, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "All right. Tonight, then. If he wishes."

[shieldofrohan]

"Tonight." She nods, determination setting her face, and makes as if to stand - then hesitates, sighing, and meets Jack's eyes.

"This is my doing," she says, quietly. "It was I who brought you here, I who began our dalliance, I whose carelessness brought us to this pass. And I would have you know... I am sorry. Whatever should come of it. You are dear to me, after all that we have seen and done, and I risked bringing much down on you." Now she does stand, crossing the space between them and kissing him - not passionately on the mouth, but chastely on the cheek, a kiss between friends rather than lovers. "I am sorry for it. But I... I can no longer be sorry you are here."

She looks, for a moment, as though she might say more. Then she straightens up abruptly, tucking her hair back into place, and clears her throat. "Tonight," she says again, smoothing her skirts and turning away. "After sunset. If we come not then, do not watch for my return to your bed - I fear I shall come not at all."