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Fic: Dreams - A Pirate's Life for Me
(Arrrr)
aztecgold
aztecgold
Fic: Dreams
Short, entirely random post-PotC snippet. Am working on the other post-PotC thing-- the one with Norrington, and the crossover elements that decided to waltz in-- but this is unrelated.

Elizabeth/Jack, as far as I can tell.



She dreams of him, early in the morning when the sky has not yet lightened to dawn and the house is still. Will sleeps soundly next to her, one arm flung out to the side so that the hand dangles loosely over the edge of the bed. His mouth is open, but he does not snore, just breathes quietly, almost inaudibly.

She dreams of him, but it is a half dream, a waking dream; she is aware of where she is, even as she is aware of standing in the middle of the room, his long lean body pressed up behind hers. His arms around her are like steel bands, but it is an imprisonment that she welcomes, relaxing back against him, hand resting over one of his without even attempting to move it. If she were to look down, her skin would be white against his hand, browned as it is by sun and sea. She doesn't look down.

"Elizabeth, love." The words are whispered into air just behind her ear, and his breath caresses her cheek like another hand, the gentle touch of a lover. He shifts against her; when he speaks, she can hear the smile, the wicked mischief simmering beneath the surface of his speech. "Boy isn't doing enough for you, eh?"

She snorts and says nothing. He gives a silent laugh, one she can feel but not hear, but quickly sobers. "You miss her."

It is not clear exactly who, or what, the 'her' is. Her mind flashes through possibilities-- the Black Pearl, the ocean, the Elizabeth she had been during that time-- but really, it hardly matters. It is all the same. "Yes." Her murmur is almost inaudible, but he hears her; he could hardly not, as this is her dream.

One of his hands moves down over her front, stroking lightly down her stomach and the inside of her hip. She is fully clothed, yet somehow he manages to touch the center of her, without actually touching anything; she shivers and leans into his touch, needing more.

"Don't fret, love," he says, quietly. "You will know her again-- at the opportune moment--"

"But *when*?" she bursts out, impatiently, whirling to face him.

He is gone, of course, if only because he was never there. She can still feel the ghost-touch of his hands on her, sense memories of something that never happened. With a slight sob, she moves to the window, opening it and then leaning against the frame to look out. She can barely see the ocean, from this window, just bare slivers of something that in daylight is sometimes blue and sometimes grey and sometimes glinting silver in sunlight. If she closes her eyes, though, she can see it as if it were right in front of her, can feel the welcoming touch of the ocean's salt spray.

She is not aware of going back to bed, but she wakes up there. Will is still asleep, and his arm is draped loosely over her hip. It is a dream, she tells herself, nothing more. It is a dream, as it always is.

Restless, she stands and moves to the window to open it, but it is already open.
1 bottle of rum gone * Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!
Comments
ash_night From: ash_night Date: December 13th, 2003 12:11 pm (UTC) (Link)
Dear gosh. I love your little snippets of PotC fic in your journal. *happily befriends*
1 bottle of rum gone * Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!