A/N: My first Pirates of the Caribbean story! This was written last summer when I was going through a slight obsessional stage with Orlando Bloom (not much has changed although it's now moved on to Aaron Tveit, Killian Donnelly and co!)
Disclaimer: As I am not Gore Verbinsinki or anything to do with the production of these fantastic films- how can I possibly own anything to do with Pirates? I am simply trying to convey my love for a fantastically imaginative franchise with impossibly attractive actors into something cohesive- please don't sue me! Much love and enjoy! x
That one day
The grass was wet with the days rain as we ran down to the shore, watching the watercolour sky flecked with tawny oranges, blood reds and inky blues as the huge fireball of a sun sank into the indigo abyss. A sweet alto voice floated back on the still summer air humming with the salt soaked heat and the tang of expectation. The words glided back on the heady summer air, relics of a long lost era that shone with scarlet blood, of inky black fabrics fluttering in still sea air, of the stink of rum clinging to a man like a second skin, of that man who I had clung to as we floated through the blood soaked sky ringing with the metallic clashes of swords and that gut wrenching, heart breaking, anguished cry of another man, a man I loved floating through the blood soaked breeze; flashes of silver, the feel of salt, sweat soaked skin beneath nerveless fingers as our lips struggled to find each other, cold skin on cold skin, dark eyes slipping shut in an eternal sleep, the feel of thick, wet hair beneath my trembling hands…
The voice had reached the edge of the cliff, jutting out over the white sanded paradise. I saw the tricornered hat, so like Jack's first as the song rose sweetly to its bitter climax as we watched the sun sink ever lower in a final, blood red salute beneath the inky horizon. My breath quickened in my throat, short, gasping pants as I watched; one hand gripping the quivering shoulder as I felt the small body shivering with badly repressed excitement. Any minute now… The sea was silent, the last vestiges of golden light sinking into blinding white, which would soon… The small, impish face gazed into mine; brown eyes alight with the fire of hope. Brown eyes so like his fathers, liqueur brown eyes which I had lost myself in on that first day aboard the ship as a ten year old girl gazed into the pale, pinched face of a half drowned castaway dripping salt onto a wooden deck and was still floundering hopelessly in…
A faint pop flung me back into reality as the horizon burnt bright green as the ghostly shadow of a ship with tattered sails and a burnt out hull reared up, the gash gaping wide like a mythical monster in the flickering evening light…. Tiny fingers almost crushed mine as the face gazed into mine, the fire crackling, leaping, burning…. The ship was drawing closer now, the rigging creaking ominously and clutching at it, his chiselled face upturned towards the burnt fire of the setting sun was….
He had not changed. Not a bit. Still those fathomless eyes alight with an inferno of passionate hope, still that tanned, thin face, the long dexterous fingers gripping the salt soaked rope… Grabbing the trembling hand with both of my own, I sprinted back the way we had come and down towards the chalky path that led to the beach, my heart bobbing somewhere in my throat, hardly daring to breathe. He had come, he had come back! The slippery, rain soaked rocks seemed to last a lifetime as we clattered down them, hair whipped off our faces, the name floating, blossoming on my starved lips; lips that had kissed so many and yet yearned, pleaded with me for the one that deep down I knew would only come with that one blood soaked sacrifice.
Finally we reached the beach. The ship had glided silently like a huge, ragged ghost onto the sands as we sprinted onto the silently cooling sand that ran like water silk over our feet. He was standing by the ship, showing it off like the owner of a prize winning race horse; his ship, for it was his, it had been his ever since that dreadful night when Jack had signed that beautiful soul over to the murky mire of the 'Dutchman'. The brown eyes flickered over the beach, drinking it in hungrily like a starving man contemplating a Kings' banquet, widening at the sight of the small boy who was sprinting, his arms working furiously as they propelled him towards the man whose face and name and being had encapsulated his dreams, his bedtime stories for almost ten years. I hung back, feeling a silver ghost of a smile tugging at my lips as I watched him hurl himself into the awaiting arms; ready to fling himself into the warm, sweet smelling security of the chest which I had leaned into so often. My smile broadened as I watched the collision; saw the sharp intake of breath as he felt the tiny body; brain, nerves and beating heart collapse into his own, crumpling into the hard chest with squeals of delight. Whispered words… a small laugh that echoed like the sound of a silver bell across the silently watchful sand. Large, weathered hands with long, nimble fingers slowly removing the hat and ruffling the mop of sandy hair that I had so often stroked when he was asleep, my fingers curling round each dear follicle of thick straw like hair, watching the indigo eyes, liquid pools of childish innocence slipping shut into the blissful black oblivion of sleep.
Finally, he looked up and I gazed yet again into the deep, dark pools of liquid emotion, transfixed. A green bandana swept the mass of chocolate curls off the salt soaked face, the tails flying freely in the silently whispering wind. A tentative step forward, the eyes searching my face, the flickering flames of recognition leaping high in the inky pupils. I moved forward, barely conscious of what I was doing, my legs guiding me through the sinking sands, my arms outstretched like a blind man feeling his way towards an unknown goal. I did not need to see, I needed to feel, needed to drink in the musty, salty sea perfume that enveloped me like a cloak in the dead of winter, drawing me into a clutching embrace where I could close my aching eyes and sleep, sleep forever in the comforting knowledge that he would be always be there and yet knowing that the beautiful soul which I clung to like a silver thread of hope would always be out of my struggling, straining grasp. Hands cupped my quivering chin and forced my head upwards; the rough, calloused hands caressing my face, drinking in my silver tears; the eyes, lips searching, yearning for the flame to catch and ignite into the raging, roaring fire of passion.
I gazed back, but this time trying to take in his features in more clarity; but it was like looking into a blinding light dimmed slightly by darkening shadows around the edges. Without conscious thought I felt my hands unstick from my sides and slide up his shirt, exploring the now unfamiliar contours of a body which once long ago I had known every dip, every angle. Breath caught in my already parched throat as I felt the bony jut of ribs under the thin cotton shirt as my hands traced the scars, the ribs; thin, tight muscle. I felt his breath quicken as my fingers flew over the beating, straining heart engaged in a casket of pure, white bone.
A faint groan fluttered almost unconsciously his lips as my fingers crept like spies in the night up the thin, tight skin of the neck, falling headlong into the pit of his voice box and scrambling upwards towards the prominent, jutting chin. I felt his hands tighten around my shoulders as our locked, brown on grey, grey on brown. 'I've missed you', his voice was husky with desire as our parched, starved lips strained to meet, to join, to make the circle, the scattered jigsaw complete once more. I smiled as his lips crushed mine and the world as I had known it for ten long, lonely years fell apart. It was as if he had, with one kiss ripped away the black cloud of internal misery that had enveloped me; a cloud that had lightened slightly with the birth of John but was still there, an oppressive presence that I knew would never lift unless he was there.
I didn't need to answer that but simply kissed him again; relishing in the taste of salty sweetness and wishing that this day; this one perfect day would never end. Deep down I knew it would, but not yet. For now there was only me, Will and John and it was perfect. One day of complete perfection.
A/N: Please feel free to read and review! This is my first venture into Pirates of the Caribbean and so if any characterisations etc are off, do feel free to tell me! Comments, questions, suggestions and constructive criticisms are like chocolate to my brain!
Much love and enjoy x