Falling Apart
© 2003 Black Tangled Heart
Disclaimer: the Mouse owns all, unfortunately.
Note: This story is based on a quote from silverchair's "Miss You Love" video.
Dedication: to my PotC muses: Jemppy and Bohemian Storm.
--
Elizabeth Turner woke up screaming.
Her wedding night had passed in a blur of consecrated lust and love. When sleep had rested its hands upon her, she'd dreamt of being bound in shackles. She had once known the confinement of a corset that stole her breath. The constrictions that accompanied her birthrights and status had robbed her of any chance for freedom. The restrictions had become a doppelganger.
But this, this was too much.
Lurid morning light painted her face. Will slept soundly beside her. She lowered her eyes, and saw that her hands trembled. Her dream had been vivid enough to make her heart hammer against her ribs like a trapped bird. She imagined her stomach swelling with pregnancy and forming a hollow in the mattress she shared with her husband. She could hear the wails of a tiny child, feel its pink gums gnawing on her hand, see it nursing her breast noisily.
Everything around her seemed to trap her.
She peeled back the sticky bed sheets and rose, shaking out her curls and smoothing down her nightdress. She stared out the window at the deep blue sea, watching its waves rise and fall like her breath. Longing stoked deep within her came to the fore, and she wished she could fling open the window and soar past the clouds, away from her life.
She envied the pirates and their recklessness. She'd had a taste of it, and was left starving. Aching for the urge to be sated. It wasn't merely a pang, but an abyss. There was a world for her to absorb like a dry sponge did water. And aboard the Black Pearl, she would never experience deprivation of the heart, even if her stomach cramped in hunger.
She wondered briefly why her screams hadn't woken Will. He'd always slept deeply, but a noise so shrill and sharp would surely be enough to cut through his dark layers of sleep and bring him to the surface of consciousness. When she returned to bed, his eyes were open. He studied her intently.
He'd heard it after all.
She rested beside him, and felt his hand cup her face. He traced the apple of her cheek, the angle of her jaw, the curve of her chin. She had wordlessly conveyed her deepest desires to him, and only now did he speak, when she pulled the comforter over her slim frame and hoped her anxieties would bleed into the mattress.
"Are you falling asleep?" He filled the silence with a question to which he already knew the answer. He pressed his lips against her forehead.
"I'm falling apart."
He descended gracelessly into sleep again. He dreamt of Elizabeth's face marred with blood; her hands at the helm of the Black Pearl; her womb swollen with the child of Captain Jack Sparrow.
When he awoke, she was gone.
All that was left was the warmth of her body. The remnants of the scream that tore them apart echoed in his ears. And he wept.
--
© 2003 Black Tangled Heart
Disclaimer: the Mouse owns all, unfortunately.
Note: This story is based on a quote from silverchair's "Miss You Love" video.
Dedication: to my PotC muses: Jemppy and Bohemian Storm.
--
Elizabeth Turner woke up screaming.
Her wedding night had passed in a blur of consecrated lust and love. When sleep had rested its hands upon her, she'd dreamt of being bound in shackles. She had once known the confinement of a corset that stole her breath. The constrictions that accompanied her birthrights and status had robbed her of any chance for freedom. The restrictions had become a doppelganger.
But this, this was too much.
Lurid morning light painted her face. Will slept soundly beside her. She lowered her eyes, and saw that her hands trembled. Her dream had been vivid enough to make her heart hammer against her ribs like a trapped bird. She imagined her stomach swelling with pregnancy and forming a hollow in the mattress she shared with her husband. She could hear the wails of a tiny child, feel its pink gums gnawing on her hand, see it nursing her breast noisily.
Everything around her seemed to trap her.
She peeled back the sticky bed sheets and rose, shaking out her curls and smoothing down her nightdress. She stared out the window at the deep blue sea, watching its waves rise and fall like her breath. Longing stoked deep within her came to the fore, and she wished she could fling open the window and soar past the clouds, away from her life.
She envied the pirates and their recklessness. She'd had a taste of it, and was left starving. Aching for the urge to be sated. It wasn't merely a pang, but an abyss. There was a world for her to absorb like a dry sponge did water. And aboard the Black Pearl, she would never experience deprivation of the heart, even if her stomach cramped in hunger.
She wondered briefly why her screams hadn't woken Will. He'd always slept deeply, but a noise so shrill and sharp would surely be enough to cut through his dark layers of sleep and bring him to the surface of consciousness. When she returned to bed, his eyes were open. He studied her intently.
He'd heard it after all.
She rested beside him, and felt his hand cup her face. He traced the apple of her cheek, the angle of her jaw, the curve of her chin. She had wordlessly conveyed her deepest desires to him, and only now did he speak, when she pulled the comforter over her slim frame and hoped her anxieties would bleed into the mattress.
"Are you falling asleep?" He filled the silence with a question to which he already knew the answer. He pressed his lips against her forehead.
"I'm falling apart."
He descended gracelessly into sleep again. He dreamt of Elizabeth's face marred with blood; her hands at the helm of the Black Pearl; her womb swollen with the child of Captain Jack Sparrow.
When he awoke, she was gone.
All that was left was the warmth of her body. The remnants of the scream that tore them apart echoed in his ears. And he wept.
--