ficlet request #2
11/10/03 23:20![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericarequest #2: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liviapenn
fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
pairing: Jack/Elizabeth
words: ring, glow, footsteps
She wears his ring still. A thin band of gold, plain and perfect and unpretentious. She wears it not on her hand now, but on a thin chain around her neck, one never removed, so that it is more like another part of her body than a piece of jewelry.
She has heard that on some of the islands people call her the Widow Turner, and that they call her Jack's woman. Neither is precisely true, but each has a grain of the truth within it.
Elizabeth would not dream of referring to Jack as her lover, but she knows no other words for a man with whom she has shared her bed. Part of her is still -- still! -- scandalized at the fact she *has* a lover, but it is not so strange. Jack is a good man, and a good pirate, and he provides her with comfort and pleasure when she is sorely in need of both. For that, as for so many other things, she can be grateful.
Across the room in the bed, Jack's face is illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight. He dozes, but it is merely a soft post-coital slumber, and not one of the rum-fueled bouts that can knock him out for hours or days. The bottle of rum on the floor is still, in fact, half-full.
Jack is a fervent, if distractible, lover, and Elizabeth is sore and pleasantly satiated. Soon she will drift off to sleep as well. Their couplings are not frequent, but they are deeply satisfying, and they save her from a night of sitting in her empty bed and thinking on what she left.
She would not have made her choices any differently; marriage was more stifling than she feared, and motherhood was more unbearable than any corset ever was; she had no other choices. And, oh, she is happy on the ship, sailing the seas, living out all the impossible dreams of her youth.
But still she has her regrets, when she thinks back upon his face the night she left, sweet and childlike in the bed they shared. She would not admit it to another soul, but she wept as she crept out, even as she feared with each footstep that the next would wake the child, and she would be trapped there another night.
She finishes the letter she is writing, and folds it, not bothering to sign her name. Tomorrow she will put it to a package she has put together, of gold, and beautiful things, and ribbons for the girl. It is courting danger to go near Port Royal, but Jack has not denied her before; the package will find its way to him.
Elizabeth blows out the candle and climbs into the bed beside Jack. The air has all the sweetness of freedom tonight, and she takes a deep breath and falls asleep with a smile.
liviapennfandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
pairing: Jack/Elizabeth
words: ring, glow, footsteps
She wears his ring still. A thin band of gold, plain and perfect and unpretentious. She wears it not on her hand now, but on a thin chain around her neck, one never removed, so that it is more like another part of her body than a piece of jewelry.
She has heard that on some of the islands people call her the Widow Turner, and that they call her Jack's woman. Neither is precisely true, but each has a grain of the truth within it.
Elizabeth would not dream of referring to Jack as her lover, but she knows no other words for a man with whom she has shared her bed. Part of her is still -- still! -- scandalized at the fact she *has* a lover, but it is not so strange. Jack is a good man, and a good pirate, and he provides her with comfort and pleasure when she is sorely in need of both. For that, as for so many other things, she can be grateful.
Across the room in the bed, Jack's face is illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight. He dozes, but it is merely a soft post-coital slumber, and not one of the rum-fueled bouts that can knock him out for hours or days. The bottle of rum on the floor is still, in fact, half-full.
Jack is a fervent, if distractible, lover, and Elizabeth is sore and pleasantly satiated. Soon she will drift off to sleep as well. Their couplings are not frequent, but they are deeply satisfying, and they save her from a night of sitting in her empty bed and thinking on what she left.
She would not have made her choices any differently; marriage was more stifling than she feared, and motherhood was more unbearable than any corset ever was; she had no other choices. And, oh, she is happy on the ship, sailing the seas, living out all the impossible dreams of her youth.
But still she has her regrets, when she thinks back upon his face the night she left, sweet and childlike in the bed they shared. She would not admit it to another soul, but she wept as she crept out, even as she feared with each footstep that the next would wake the child, and she would be trapped there another night.
She finishes the letter she is writing, and folds it, not bothering to sign her name. Tomorrow she will put it to a package she has put together, of gold, and beautiful things, and ribbons for the girl. It is courting danger to go near Port Royal, but Jack has not denied her before; the package will find its way to him.
Elizabeth blows out the candle and climbs into the bed beside Jack. The air has all the sweetness of freedom tonight, and she takes a deep breath and falls asleep with a smile.
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(no subject)
12/10/03 20:55 (UTC)Not at all what I'd've expected, but it fits so well. Hurtygood.
(no subject)
12/10/03 22:41 (UTC)(no subject)
13/10/03 10:24 (UTC)Good to know someone appreciates me, at least. ::hugs::