Linnet's Note: Nice AWE oneshot. Because (curse you, T&T) this was one of the only Sparrabeth moments in a whole three-hour film. –Hmmph.-
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue?
Constellations
(He had once pointed out all the constellations to her, on the island.)
She doesn't know why she thinks of this now, of all
times. Now, when she is
standing on the deck of the Pearl looking
at the crew before her. She sees
Ragetti tip his head, muttering
something that includes, "Mrs. Turner," and
suddenly
she is struck with how much she will miss this life.
She doesn't know where she's supposed to go now, because she has no purpose.
(She wonders how long it has been since that fiery night.)
And then there's Jack, standing here, right in front
of her. Are his eyes
betraying bitterness? She doesn't know, and
she's just too tired to try to
figure him out now.
(She
remembers only a few constellations, because the rum and the fire and
his eyes had been far too distracting.)
She searches for
words, anything original to say, but she merely repeats
what he
said the first time they departed. She might as well be back where
she started; anyway, she would be on a deserted island, haunting
it, ghost
of a woman … nay, ghost of the pirate she was
before.
(She remembers Andromeda, Orion, Sirius, and one that
he had claimed to her
namesake, Cygnus. The swan, trapped in the
night sky forever. Now, the swan
does not seem so caged, in her
opinion, because Cygnus' cage would be
neither gilded nor
lonely.)
She thinks briefly that she will not be able to live
on an island without
thinking of a time, years ago, when she had
been there with rum, a bonfire, and a
filthy pirate with a vision
of freedom.
(Orion, the warrior, had reminded her of him. He
had chuckled and denied it,
but she still thought it held true.
Good man, and all that.)
"It would never have worked between us, Jack."
His smirk suddenly reflects his bitter
eyes, and she wants to do nothing
more than stay here forever.
But she's bound to Will, even if she's ready to
admit to herself
that she's not sure if she loves him anymore, because it's
just
been so long that she hasn't questioned those words.
(It would
be terrible to be trapped on an island all alone, she realizes.
She's not sure if the constellations are a blessing or curse to
her now.
They are permanent, she supposes, they would never leave
her.)
She doesn't want to question anymore, and she will force
herself to stop
questioning, like when she learned what happens
to pirates.
(How long had it been since that night?)
"Just keep telling yourself that, darling."
And she will, if
that's what it takes to forget the man she is still unsure
of-if
that's what it takes to forget the freedom that she would forever
be denied.
(The constellations seem a lifetime away, now.)