Ariel's hair is splayed out around her head on the pillow. She is facing the window, away from Killian. The sheets have slipped down to her waist. Killian's eyes trace the elegant curve of her neck, shoulder, waist…he is lost in her skin, so pale and lovely.
The first glimmers of sunlight are coming through the window. Ariel will wake soon. Killian almost laments that this moment must end, that he cannot endlessly admire her beautiful form. Her hair, ordinarily bright red, looks as if it is spun from gold. Her pale skin is almost luminescent in the morning light.
Ariel's bedroom is decorated sparsely and mostly in white, but right now it is every shade of yellow and orange. The whole world, or at least their small section of it, is bathed in light and perfectly still this morning.
Ariel stirs. She raises a hand to wipe the sleep from her eye, and then she rolls over. She smiles when she sees that Killian is also awake.
"Morning," she says.
"Morning," he responds.
Killian extends a hand to caress Ariel's arm. He pretends not to notice that the sheets cover nothing above her belly button. He keeps his eyes on her face, and her lovely sea-green eyes, and her softs lips that he aches to kiss once more.
Ariel's face bears all the markings of someone just woken up: eyebrows pushed in all directions, a slight puffiness of the cheek that had been pressed against the pillow, hair mussed and tangled. Still, she is the loveliest sight that Killian has ever seen.
"Sleep well?" she asks.
"Always, when I'm with you," he says.
"Did you dream of me?" she asks.
She says it coyly, with a shy smile on her face. But Killian's mind flickers back to his dream, of darkness and blood and pain. His leg twitches where the sea witch sliced it open. He tries not to let the pain show in his expression.
"I'm sure I did, love," he lies.
Ariel smiles and snuggles closer to Killian. Her face is now close enough to his that he can see every fleck of gold in her green eyes and every dark eyelash around them. Killian slants his head forward to kiss Ariel softly. He puts his arm around her waist, his hand on the small of her back. Ariel's hands rest on his chest as they kiss.
The kiss grows deeper, with more tongue and more fire. Killian's mind flashes back to last night: skin, sheets, soft sighs. The return of Ariel's heart drastically changed things for them in terms of sex. Where their sort-of-one-night-stand had been angry and rough and passionate, last night had been softer, gentler, tenderer.
"Stop thinking so much," Ariel mutters between kisses.
"Am I?" says Killian bemusedly.
She nods and begins to bite playfully at Killian's lower lip. He groans and pulls Ariel closer. Ariel shifts so that she is on top of Killian, her hands placed on either side of his head. Their knees knock together accidentally. Ariel giggles.
Killian loves that he has his playful, jocund mermaid back. She is not exactly as he knew her, however. Ariel has become a mix of the two women she was, hardened and happy, closed-off and optimistic. Killian has thoroughly enjoyed spending the past day finding the balance of her new personality. He has even more enjoyed being welcomed back into Ariel's heart, and her bedroom too.
They spend all morning in bed, the sunlight growing steadily brighter and the sheets more tangled. When at last they get out of bed, Ariel's hair has stuck to her forehead and her skin prickles with a little bit of sweat.
Killian brushes her hair away from her face with a laugh. Ariel laughs, too, and pulls him into the shower. They take longer in there than is necessary, though Killian would argue that their activities in the shower are entirely necessary. He cannot keep his hands off of Ariel.
The haze of the morning and the sex and the sunlight has dimmed somewhat by the time they dress and sit down for breakfast in Ariel's kitchen.
"How is your leg?" she asks, "I hope last night…and this morning too, I guess, didn't make it worse."
"Not at all," he says. It's only half a lie. The sex didn't really hurt it any more, but it still hurts like a bitch. "If it did, it's a trade I'll happily make."
Ariel grins and takes a bite of cereal.
Killian notices that she has not bothered to put makeup over the mark he made on her neck. He can see it just in front of where her hair falls. He feels almost proud at the sight of it. Ariel's voice pulls his attention away from such sweet memories.
"We should check out what Ursula's up to. I don't want her hurting you again, especially not when your leg's still in bad shape," she says.
"You're not still intending to go after her, are you?" asks Killian.
"Of course I am," she replies.
It was a slim hope, but one that Killian had desperately clung to. All the same, Ariel's expression is determined, and her eyes say that she will brook no debate. Killian knows better than to attempt to talk her out of this.
"I'm not saying I don't want the sea bitch dead," he says, "I just don't want you getting hurt in the attempt."
"What matters is killing Ursula. If I get hurt, I don't care," says Ariel.
"I do."
Her expression softens. She reaches a hand across the table to grasp Killian's. She squeezes gently and smiles.
"Please don't worry about me. And please, trust that I can handle myself. I'm not the same helpless mermaid you knew thirty years ago. I keep trying to tell you that," she says.
She pulls her hand away and pokes listlessly at her breakfast. Killian looks at her, so innocent and burdened at the same time. He wishes he could lighten her heavy heart.
"I suppose I won't believe it until I see the proof," he says.
"Will Ursula's beating heart in my hand be proof enough?" she asks, looking up at him.
Her eyes show her fear, but they are fierce all the same. It's that fierceness that Killian so loves.
"Don't say that," replies Killian, "You…do you really want to kill the woman? Speaking as someone who knows, killing isn't something you come back from. It changes you."
"I've already changed. Ursula saw to that when she ripped my heart out," says Ariel.
"I seem to recall you telling me you gave it to her as part of a deal," he retorts.
"I seem to recall that I only made the deal because you left!"
Her eyes are narrowed in contempt. The bitter memory will swallow Killian and Ariel both if they let it, and that's the last thing he wants right now. He's amazed at how quickly a nice morning can turn so sour. The subject of murder tends to do that.
"Please," he says quietly, "I'm so sorry. I'll apologize a thousand times, if you like. I'll even go after Ursula for you. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."
"Why do you insist on worrying about me so much?"
"You know why, love."
She looks at him, all doe eyes and hopeful smiles. For a second, she is his little mermaid again.
"I love you, Ariel," he says, almost instinctually. Loving her is almost a part of who he is, at this point.
"I love you too, Killian," she replies, "But you're not talking me out of this."
A shadow passes over Ariel's eyes. Whether it is sadness or bloodlust, Killian cannot say. Either way, it worries him.
Ariel ducks her head down and focuses on her breakfast. She does not look up again, nor does she speak. Killian watches her. For the first time, he realizes the extent of the damage he did when he left.
Eric rolls over in bed. The clock reads four o'clock. He doesn't particularly care.
Last night, his dreams were red. He dreamt of bright red hair and a beating heart. He dreamt of a red wine dripping down the chin of a madwoman, her chipped red fingernails pressing into his skin, and her red lips curling into a vicious smile. He dreamt of rage and passion and fear, and he dreamt of the moment he realized Ariel would never be his ever again.
He sighs aloud and slams his head back against the pillow. He has that disgusting been-in-bed-too-long feeling. His skin feels thick, like he needs a shower more than anything in the world. But summoning the energy to get up and walk into the bathroom? That feels utterly beyond him.
There's a reason he's been in bed all day.
Ariel. Ariel. Ariel. He doesn't say her name out loud, but he turns it over in his head a thousand times. He had her once upon a time, and he may have had her again if only he had the courage to make his intentions known sooner. Maybe if he'd gotten her heart back before that pirate came to town…
The phone rings. Eric flings out an arm to grope around for it on the nightstand. He presses the green button and brings the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he says morosely.
"Eric?" says a familiar voice.
God, his chest fucking aches at the sound of her voice. It feels like something's been carved out of him.
"Ariel," he says weakly.
"How are you?" she asks.
"Fine, I guess."
"That's, that's good. Just, I wanted to make sure Ursula hadn't gotten to you. I don't know whether she knows I got my heart back, but if she does then she might come after you."
As if she cares. "I'll be fine. I've been at home all day."
"Just be careful," she says, "I'm going to deal with Ursula."
"Deal with her?" he repeats, confused.
"Be careful," she says, choosing not to elaborate, "Bye."
The line goes dead. So does Eric's brain. He tosses the phone to the floor and falls back against the pillow. He sinks into oblivion for what feels like hours until the doorbell rings.
Somehow, he summons the energy to get out of bed and walk to the door. Halfway down the stairs, he realizes that he's still wearing his pajamas. He can't bring himself to care.
He opens the door and nearly shits himself. There, in all her black and red, psychotic beauty, stands Ursula. She has a wild look in her eye, but whether it's rage or something else, Eric can't tell.
"You left in a hurry yesterday," she says.
"Things to do," he replies simply.
"I would have preferred for you to stay," she says.
"Would you?" he says.
Ursula steps forward and places a hand on Eric's chest. Her lips are very red, almost like blood.
"Do you have some spare time now?" she asks.
Eric doesn't answer. He can't answer. His brain is fogging over, consumed by Ursula's presence. The world around them is blacking out. But the less he sees, the more he feels. He's overcome with the rejection from Ariel and the jealousy over the pirate and the rage and the fear and something new on top of it all (lust?) and he can't do this anymore. He collapses beneath all of it.
He leans forward and kisses Ursula. She responds eagerly, almost as if she had been expecting him to do that. They step back into Eric's house, never pausing for breath.
Eric's head is becoming light. He feels almost dizzy. Ursula does not stop, though. Her kisses are greedy, hungry, almost vicious.
She kicks the door shut. Her hands are still on Eric's chest. He keeps kissing her, kissing her, kissing her, because it's the only thing that's made him feel alive all day.
Then his chest explodes in pain.
He pulls away from Ursula's kiss. She smiles deviously at him; her arm is sunk up to the elbow in his chest. He can feel her nails clawing around in his chest, feeling for something important. Then she pulls her arm out as quickly as she drove it in.
She is holding his heart in her fist, bright red and pulsating. He's never seen someone pull a heart out before, and he feels like he's going to be sick. And of course, he's surprised there was anything left to pull out.