FULL CIRCLE
A fanfiction story by Nichol
Disclaimer: "Treasure Planet", Jim Hawkins, Sarah Hawkins, and all related characters are exclusive property of Disney, Pixar, and Robert Louis Stevenson's estate. I make no money, so you no sue. Even if you did, I'm a starving college student, so you wouldn't get anything anyway.
He came to me a stranger, and left me the same way. I spent the time in between trying to understand and change him, to transform him into the man I wished he was. I did not succeed, and he walked out of my life without looking back.
"Never marry a spacer," my mother told me once, bless her heart. She had both feet firmly on the ground and she married a man who was the same way -- my father would serve and house spacers, but the stars held no fascination for him. Both of my sisters took her advice, and they live plain, simple lives with their plain, simple husbands. But I was young and beautiful too, once, and that wasn't good enough for me. I filled my head with flights of fancy and dreams that were as lovely and meaningless as tales of lost treasure. I met my husband late one starry night when I was sixteen years old, and in my girlish glee I believed him to be the answer to my prayers, the man of my dreams.
My mother, who had warned me about spacers, stood by and let me make the biggest mistake of my life. Sometimes I hate her for that, and other times I think it was the best thing she ever did for me. I know now a mother's temptation to protect and guard her child until she smothers him. To allow your child the freedom to chart his own course and make his own mistakes is probably the hardest -- and best -- thing a parent can do. I knew it was hard for my mother, watching her youngest daughter wed a handsome stranger who would always love the stars more than his wife. Even then, I saw sadness in her eyes when I told her that I was going to marry Leland Hawkins. Perhaps she knew the sorrow he would bring me. My mother often saw things before they happened -- sometimes I do too, but I blinded myself to the truths I did not care to see.
I did not know the man who was to become my husband, though I imagined that all I needed to know was in the ring he placed on my finger. It was a circle, symbolizing endless love and perfect fidelity. It was made of Neurthlian gold, the rarest and most precious of metals. It was a ring made to last forever. I found out twelve years later how brief forever is, when I had it melted down and sold to pay for renovations for my inn. Circles are not endless, and love is far more precious than gold.
Leland never wanted children; I did, and I got my way. When I became pregnant, he got into the habit of wandering off with his old spaceport pals and not returning for weeks at a time. I did not let this worry me, as I had convinced myself that as soon as he saw his child, his eyes would fill with love and he would become completely devoted to his wife and son. My father knew better though, and so he left me the Benbow in his will, so that I would have something to "fall back on." He died when I was seven months pregnant, and I was alone with my grief. Mother could not bear to stay on a planet that held so many memories, and left to live on some farming colony with my eldest sister.
When I gave birth to Jim, I had not seen my husband in six weeks. I had loved my son long before he was born, from the first time I felt him move within me. Everything about him was so perfect -- his tiny toes, his nose, his big beautiful eyes. I loved him with a ferocity that astonished me, and still does. Leland finally returned when Jim was three days old. He walked into the Benbow in the middle of the night, came straight to my room, planted a kiss on my forehead, and fell asleep. He didn't even look at our child or ask what I had named him. I had to beg him to hold Jim long enough to take their picture for our scrapbook. He was uncomfortable with Jim when he was a baby, complaining that he was too delicate. Then he complained when Jim began walking and talking because he was too loud. When he grew into a young boy Leland complained that he was always following him around and asking too many questions. Now that I think on it, whenever Leland wasn't ignoring our son, he was complaining about him.
With every passing season, he grew more distant from me. Some mornings I would awake and wonder who this stranger was who lay in bed beside me. The words changed, his touch changed, and the magic died. Only the face remained, that handsome expressive face that I thought I still loved. When Jim was four, Leland bought an old ship and began repairing it as a hobby, or so he claimed. He used it to travel to nearby stars, disappearing for a day or a week or a month. He always returned, but even then I knew that one day he would leave me and never come back. I blinded myself to this, pretended the world was other than what it was.
One morning my ten-year-old son burst into the kitchen, weeping helplessly. Leland had stormed out after a big fight, and then set sail in his ship. He had left us without a backwards glance. I never heard another word from him, and never expected to. Jim was... broken. He changed after his father left. He got into fights at school, his grades slipped, his attitude became surly. That beautiful face I knew as well as my own changed also, and in his eyes I saw a stranger. Then an alien died in Jim's arms, leaving a curious gold ball and a gang of pirates determined to find it. My inn was destroyed, and I lost everything. Including my son.
Jim wanted to leave me, to sail away to the stars on some crazy journey to find a lost treasure planet. Every atom of my body screamed no, but in the end I let him slip through my fingers, watched him fly into a vast and uncertain universe. But unlike his father, Jim gave me a backwards glance. I had no doubt that I would never see him again, that he would be lost to me forever. Space would claim my son just as it claimed his father. I was standing on the spacedocks, my heart pounding in my chest so hard that I thought it would split me in two. Then Jim was there, my beautiful precious boy who wasn't a boy any longer. He was alive and in one piece, and in that moment all my expectations were exceeded. But even better than that was that I knew him -- the stranger was gone, had been lost somewhere along the way and forgotten. I held him in my arms but I was not afraid to let him go. I knew that he would return to me.
And like that, the circle was completed.
Disclaimer: "Treasure Planet", Jim Hawkins, Sarah Hawkins, and all related characters are exclusive property of Disney, Pixar, and Robert Louis Stevenson's estate. I make no money, so you no sue. Even if you did, I'm a starving college student, so you wouldn't get anything anyway.
He came to me a stranger, and left me the same way. I spent the time in between trying to understand and change him, to transform him into the man I wished he was. I did not succeed, and he walked out of my life without looking back.
"Never marry a spacer," my mother told me once, bless her heart. She had both feet firmly on the ground and she married a man who was the same way -- my father would serve and house spacers, but the stars held no fascination for him. Both of my sisters took her advice, and they live plain, simple lives with their plain, simple husbands. But I was young and beautiful too, once, and that wasn't good enough for me. I filled my head with flights of fancy and dreams that were as lovely and meaningless as tales of lost treasure. I met my husband late one starry night when I was sixteen years old, and in my girlish glee I believed him to be the answer to my prayers, the man of my dreams.
My mother, who had warned me about spacers, stood by and let me make the biggest mistake of my life. Sometimes I hate her for that, and other times I think it was the best thing she ever did for me. I know now a mother's temptation to protect and guard her child until she smothers him. To allow your child the freedom to chart his own course and make his own mistakes is probably the hardest -- and best -- thing a parent can do. I knew it was hard for my mother, watching her youngest daughter wed a handsome stranger who would always love the stars more than his wife. Even then, I saw sadness in her eyes when I told her that I was going to marry Leland Hawkins. Perhaps she knew the sorrow he would bring me. My mother often saw things before they happened -- sometimes I do too, but I blinded myself to the truths I did not care to see.
I did not know the man who was to become my husband, though I imagined that all I needed to know was in the ring he placed on my finger. It was a circle, symbolizing endless love and perfect fidelity. It was made of Neurthlian gold, the rarest and most precious of metals. It was a ring made to last forever. I found out twelve years later how brief forever is, when I had it melted down and sold to pay for renovations for my inn. Circles are not endless, and love is far more precious than gold.
Leland never wanted children; I did, and I got my way. When I became pregnant, he got into the habit of wandering off with his old spaceport pals and not returning for weeks at a time. I did not let this worry me, as I had convinced myself that as soon as he saw his child, his eyes would fill with love and he would become completely devoted to his wife and son. My father knew better though, and so he left me the Benbow in his will, so that I would have something to "fall back on." He died when I was seven months pregnant, and I was alone with my grief. Mother could not bear to stay on a planet that held so many memories, and left to live on some farming colony with my eldest sister.
When I gave birth to Jim, I had not seen my husband in six weeks. I had loved my son long before he was born, from the first time I felt him move within me. Everything about him was so perfect -- his tiny toes, his nose, his big beautiful eyes. I loved him with a ferocity that astonished me, and still does. Leland finally returned when Jim was three days old. He walked into the Benbow in the middle of the night, came straight to my room, planted a kiss on my forehead, and fell asleep. He didn't even look at our child or ask what I had named him. I had to beg him to hold Jim long enough to take their picture for our scrapbook. He was uncomfortable with Jim when he was a baby, complaining that he was too delicate. Then he complained when Jim began walking and talking because he was too loud. When he grew into a young boy Leland complained that he was always following him around and asking too many questions. Now that I think on it, whenever Leland wasn't ignoring our son, he was complaining about him.
With every passing season, he grew more distant from me. Some mornings I would awake and wonder who this stranger was who lay in bed beside me. The words changed, his touch changed, and the magic died. Only the face remained, that handsome expressive face that I thought I still loved. When Jim was four, Leland bought an old ship and began repairing it as a hobby, or so he claimed. He used it to travel to nearby stars, disappearing for a day or a week or a month. He always returned, but even then I knew that one day he would leave me and never come back. I blinded myself to this, pretended the world was other than what it was.
One morning my ten-year-old son burst into the kitchen, weeping helplessly. Leland had stormed out after a big fight, and then set sail in his ship. He had left us without a backwards glance. I never heard another word from him, and never expected to. Jim was... broken. He changed after his father left. He got into fights at school, his grades slipped, his attitude became surly. That beautiful face I knew as well as my own changed also, and in his eyes I saw a stranger. Then an alien died in Jim's arms, leaving a curious gold ball and a gang of pirates determined to find it. My inn was destroyed, and I lost everything. Including my son.
Jim wanted to leave me, to sail away to the stars on some crazy journey to find a lost treasure planet. Every atom of my body screamed no, but in the end I let him slip through my fingers, watched him fly into a vast and uncertain universe. But unlike his father, Jim gave me a backwards glance. I had no doubt that I would never see him again, that he would be lost to me forever. Space would claim my son just as it claimed his father. I was standing on the spacedocks, my heart pounding in my chest so hard that I thought it would split me in two. Then Jim was there, my beautiful precious boy who wasn't a boy any longer. He was alive and in one piece, and in that moment all my expectations were exceeded. But even better than that was that I knew him -- the stranger was gone, had been lost somewhere along the way and forgotten. I held him in my arms but I was not afraid to let him go. I knew that he would return to me.
And like that, the circle was completed.