For Hereswith...
Aug. 20th, 2006 01:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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hereswith's birthday yesterday, as many of you may have noticed -- there was fic and fanart produced in her honor, and she is most deserving of every bit of it.
My own offering was only slightly belated, and is rather full of angst for a birthday offering, but she says she liked it just the same (I sent it in an email last night). It's post-DMC, and spoilery for same, and from Elizabeth's pov. Many thanks tojenthegypsy for beta reading the piece.
~ Wings ~
“Against the cold, and the sorrow.”
The woman gently presses the mug of steaming liquid into her hand. Tia Dalma’s strange eyes catch hers, and for a moment she wonders: Does she know?
But then, how could she?
Elizabeth does not drink with the others. The wound is too deep, too debilitating. Too well-deserved.
He would have stayed.
That look. That smile. That voice, uttering the one word: Pirate!
The last things she had of him. Gifts of a dead man.
But she hears the question Tia Dalma asks, and the others making their replies. Is it possible he is not gone entirely? She can barely fathom it, but manages to say her Yes.
After that, there is the shock of Barbossa, and a gradual lightening of spirits among the others. They have a goal. And they have hope.
Is it possible?
*
The next few days are filled with activity as they make preparations. Elizabeth helps, tight-lipped and heavy-eyed. Will looks at her askance, but she cannot bring herself to explain. Not yet. There is a distance set between them that has nothing to do with proximity.
She works hard during the day, but at night she cannot rest. She dreams instead.
She sees Jack, straight and calm, fateful laughter in his eyes, touching his lips. He would have stayed. The shackle on his wrist denies him the chance to prove it. Denies him the chance to meet his death as a free man. She has done that to him, she with her fears and doubts, her determination and her ruthlessness.
I’m not sorry.
Pirate!
She tries to run but, as is often the way in dreams, she is not permitted to move. She must watch as the horror rises up to claim him, seizing, tearing, crushing him where he is chained to the mast.
She is chained too.
And she is a liar. The sorrow howls, echoing through her soul.
When she manages to wake, heart thudding, her cheeks are wet with tears. She stares into the blackness of the warm night, the damp air smelling of wood, vegetation, and sweat. Will moves, reaches over and takes her hand in silence.
*
Tia Dalma’s people grieve for Jack.
“He save them,” the woman tells Elizabeth. “Long ago, they destined for the slave market. Jack save them from that, and fall foul of that little man, Beckett.” She spits the name, like a curse.
“Will told me Beckett was the one who branded Jack a pirate.”
Tia Dalma nods. “Brand him, yes, and burn the Pearl. But Jack, he won’t be beat by that little man, make a deal with the devil himself. Almost worth selling his soul, the sight of his Pearl being raised from the depths. The fire, she make them both free, for a while, Jack and his Pearl.”
“He was a good man,” Elizabeth says, and is surprised at the amusement in the sidelong look she gets in return.
“Oh, he good in lots of ways. But Jack Sparrow still a man.”
*
The terrible dreams continue the same until their last night with the witch woman and her folk. They will sail with the morning tide.
“Sleep. You sleep, girl. You troubled, but there’s no need.”
Elizabeth stares. “You don’t know.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you sleep.” Tia Dalma reaches up to brush the tangled hair back from Elizabeth’s forehead with small, soft fingers.
And when the dream comes, later, it is not the same.
She still must watch, but this time Jack turns away, his focus is on the shackle, and he is struggling with it, wild-eyed, teeth set.
Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger…
She wants to laugh, or weep, but suddenly the deck is tilting under their feet, and there is an ominous rumbling. A cannonball, then a coconut roll past a fallen lamp between them.
An oil lamp.
Jack draws his sword and strains to catch the lamp with his sword’s tip. She finds herself holding her breath – he is too far from it! But no, he finally has it, swings it up and shatters it against the mast to which he’s chained.
Elizabeth can feel the oil dripping and spilling, a slippery chance at freedom.
It doesn’t come easily, even then. She wants to shout, Hurry! Hurry! though she can see he is doing his utmost, straining, cursing, determined, ignoring the pain, and finally the blood as he succeeds in foiling her designs.
But even as he looks with satisfaction on his naked wrist, the monster rises behind him.
He turns to it, and as he does so it roars, the sound deafening at this distance (she’s heard it before, from the longboat, where it made her heart freeze), spewing filthy slime, an odor the like of which should not exist outside hell… and his hat!
There is a slight pause, the pulsating mass of flesh and teeth waiting as its seemingly insignificant foe picks up and restores his headgear.
Captain Jack Sparrow.
“Jack!”
Half awake, she knows she whispered his name. The dream is fading as he lifts his sword with a feral light in his eye, and she groans aloud, but her eyes open to blackness and a mere echo of gallant, defiant words.
Hello, beastie!
“Elizabeth?”
It’s Will. She turns toward him, scrabbling for his hand. It grips hers, tight.
“Are you all right?”
“Y-yes,” she whispers, calming. “Yes, I… I think I am.”
“Was it another nightmare?”
A nightmare. “No. A dream, I think.”
“Oh. It’s all right then.”
“Yes. It’s all right.” Sleep is taking her already, the kind that has eluded her this week past. She clings to the waking world briefly, no longer afraid, searching for words that will comfort them both, and finding them, at last. “There were no chains this time, Will,” she murmurs. No chains. “There were only wings.”
~.~
hereswith's birthday yesterday, as many of you may have noticed -- there was fic and fanart produced in her honor, and she is most deserving of every bit of it.My own offering was only slightly belated, and is rather full of angst for a birthday offering, but she says she liked it just the same (I sent it in an email last night). It's post-DMC, and spoilery for same, and from Elizabeth's pov. Many thanks to
jenthegypsy for beta reading the piece. ~ Wings ~
“Against the cold, and the sorrow.”
The woman gently presses the mug of steaming liquid into her hand. Tia Dalma’s strange eyes catch hers, and for a moment she wonders: Does she know?
But then, how could she?
Elizabeth does not drink with the others. The wound is too deep, too debilitating. Too well-deserved.
He would have stayed.
That look. That smile. That voice, uttering the one word: Pirate!
The last things she had of him. Gifts of a dead man.
But she hears the question Tia Dalma asks, and the others making their replies. Is it possible he is not gone entirely? She can barely fathom it, but manages to say her Yes.
After that, there is the shock of Barbossa, and a gradual lightening of spirits among the others. They have a goal. And they have hope.
Is it possible?
*
The next few days are filled with activity as they make preparations. Elizabeth helps, tight-lipped and heavy-eyed. Will looks at her askance, but she cannot bring herself to explain. Not yet. There is a distance set between them that has nothing to do with proximity.
She works hard during the day, but at night she cannot rest. She dreams instead.
She sees Jack, straight and calm, fateful laughter in his eyes, touching his lips. He would have stayed. The shackle on his wrist denies him the chance to prove it. Denies him the chance to meet his death as a free man. She has done that to him, she with her fears and doubts, her determination and her ruthlessness.
I’m not sorry.
Pirate!
She tries to run but, as is often the way in dreams, she is not permitted to move. She must watch as the horror rises up to claim him, seizing, tearing, crushing him where he is chained to the mast.
She is chained too.
And she is a liar. The sorrow howls, echoing through her soul.
When she manages to wake, heart thudding, her cheeks are wet with tears. She stares into the blackness of the warm night, the damp air smelling of wood, vegetation, and sweat. Will moves, reaches over and takes her hand in silence.
*
Tia Dalma’s people grieve for Jack.
“He save them,” the woman tells Elizabeth. “Long ago, they destined for the slave market. Jack save them from that, and fall foul of that little man, Beckett.” She spits the name, like a curse.
“Will told me Beckett was the one who branded Jack a pirate.”
Tia Dalma nods. “Brand him, yes, and burn the Pearl. But Jack, he won’t be beat by that little man, make a deal with the devil himself. Almost worth selling his soul, the sight of his Pearl being raised from the depths. The fire, she make them both free, for a while, Jack and his Pearl.”
“He was a good man,” Elizabeth says, and is surprised at the amusement in the sidelong look she gets in return.
“Oh, he good in lots of ways. But Jack Sparrow still a man.”
*
The terrible dreams continue the same until their last night with the witch woman and her folk. They will sail with the morning tide.
“Sleep. You sleep, girl. You troubled, but there’s no need.”
Elizabeth stares. “You don’t know.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you sleep.” Tia Dalma reaches up to brush the tangled hair back from Elizabeth’s forehead with small, soft fingers.
And when the dream comes, later, it is not the same.
She still must watch, but this time Jack turns away, his focus is on the shackle, and he is struggling with it, wild-eyed, teeth set.
Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger…
She wants to laugh, or weep, but suddenly the deck is tilting under their feet, and there is an ominous rumbling. A cannonball, then a coconut roll past a fallen lamp between them.
An oil lamp.
Jack draws his sword and strains to catch the lamp with his sword’s tip. She finds herself holding her breath – he is too far from it! But no, he finally has it, swings it up and shatters it against the mast to which he’s chained.
Elizabeth can feel the oil dripping and spilling, a slippery chance at freedom.
It doesn’t come easily, even then. She wants to shout, Hurry! Hurry! though she can see he is doing his utmost, straining, cursing, determined, ignoring the pain, and finally the blood as he succeeds in foiling her designs.
But even as he looks with satisfaction on his naked wrist, the monster rises behind him.
He turns to it, and as he does so it roars, the sound deafening at this distance (she’s heard it before, from the longboat, where it made her heart freeze), spewing filthy slime, an odor the like of which should not exist outside hell… and his hat!
There is a slight pause, the pulsating mass of flesh and teeth waiting as its seemingly insignificant foe picks up and restores his headgear.
Captain Jack Sparrow.
“Jack!”
Half awake, she knows she whispered his name. The dream is fading as he lifts his sword with a feral light in his eye, and she groans aloud, but her eyes open to blackness and a mere echo of gallant, defiant words.
Hello, beastie!
“Elizabeth?”
It’s Will. She turns toward him, scrabbling for his hand. It grips hers, tight.
“Are you all right?”
“Y-yes,” she whispers, calming. “Yes, I… I think I am.”
“Was it another nightmare?”
A nightmare. “No. A dream, I think.”
“Oh. It’s all right then.”
“Yes. It’s all right.” Sleep is taking her already, the kind that has eluded her this week past. She clings to the waking world briefly, no longer afraid, searching for words that will comfort them both, and finding them, at last. “There were no chains this time, Will,” she murmurs. No chains. “There were only wings.”
~.~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 09:37 pm (UTC)It's good to see Elizabeth freed from her guilt here, and Jack's honor restored in her eyes... for it's true, while he probably wouldn't have succeeded he could have tried to escape, but he didn't and met his death of his own free will, with bravery and honor - though I imagine Jack would not care to have it put in those terms.
A side note, but the death of the Pearl continues to haunt me... such a beautiful image, wrapped up and pulled into the embrace of the sea, like lovers coming together. There was so much grace and power in the way she went down. The same grace and power her captain possessed as he met his fate.
I absolutely can't wait for AWE.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 09:52 pm (UTC)“Oh, he good in lots of ways. But Jack Sparrow still a man.”
Very Tia, the amusement and wisdom and knowledge in that simple statement. I love her role in this--unsurprisingly, you've captured her character and voice perfectly.
I'm very glad that Elizabeth gets to see how Jack really died here--it makes me sad that she'll never really know that in canon, that he died like a hero. Lovely work!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 11:09 pm (UTC)That expression that is a state of being, a state of mind, where everything's about to spill out - you've captured it so well!
The sorrow howls, echoing through her soul.
Wow. Can't find words to respond adequately to this. It's gorgeous and aching - the emptiness as the wind sweeps through... Your versatility as a writer amazes me, you write perfectly adorable fluff about little (and big) piratey boys and stolen tarts, and also such achingly beautiful angst.
"Long ago, they destined for the slave market. Jack save them from that, and fall foul of that little man, Beckett."
Ooooh! Great explanation, and it ties in to what we've heard about Jack's history with Beckett.
And the ending! Tia Dalma giving her a vision of what really happened is wonderful, and the last line just made the tears spill over. Beautiful!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 12:35 am (UTC)Beautiful. You are right - for all Elizabeth tries to tell herself that she's not sorry, you know that the thought of Jack not being free to face his fate would have haunted her. And you describe that perfectly.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 01:38 pm (UTC)I agree that the Pearl's demise is a powerful image. I hope they do her ressurection justice in the next movie.
Thank you for reading and commenting. I'm so happy you liked this.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 02:00 pm (UTC)I'm glad you think I caught Tia Dalma with some accuracy. It's the first time I've tried to write her, and that accent! But I thought just catching her speech patterns might be enough, and it seems to have worked. I hope we see more of her in #3. She's a great character.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting. I really appreciate the feedback, and I am very happy you enjoyed the story.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 02:22 pm (UTC)Yes, precisely; it all makes for a very interesting line of thought about Elizabeth's regard for Jack after the fact. After all, in canon, does she continue to think that Jack would've risked them all by trying to escape with them? How does it affect her image of him to think of him dying an unwilling and resisting death, much less at her own hands? Her guilt is undoubtedly her foremost emotion, but her actions show that her opinion of Jack's honor wasn't terribly high (even if she didn't realize it at the time), and it will be interesting to see how (or if) that's been further compromised in AWE by her idea of his less-than-honorable death.
I've got to say, the climactic attack of the kraken on the Pearl is the one thing that I haven't gotten to gel in my mind re: Jack's character. I was shocked to the core by the image of him abandoning his ship and his friends. Honestly, more surprised by his abandoning his ship, than his friends. Jack's a pirate, alright, and much effort was made in DMC to emphasize his faults (I swear *everybody* made some disparaging comment about his character and negatively interpreted his actions in that movie)... but is he really that low, even though he changed his mind? It doesn't jive with me. But the alternate line of thought, that he, knowing the kraken was after him, got in that longboat to draw the kraken off his friends and his ship, and only turned back when he saw it wasn't working... that doesn't really jive with me either. I prefer the latter, obviously, but I'm not sure Jack's come far enough to be so self-sacrificial when he's spent all his efforts the whole movie to save his own skin.
Alright, I digress... a lot... but those are the thoughts the Pearl's death and Jack's death bring to me. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 06:23 pm (UTC)Ah! Those words. So very condemning for Elizabeth. Brilliant.
I need to reread this fic with "Hello Beastie" playing. Already I was getting the chills while reading, but the song and your fic combined will surely move me to tears.
Well done.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-21 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 01:11 am (UTC)What a lovely compliment! I do love the fluff -- I think you can say important things via fluff, actually. But this subject and these scenes would be lessened without the appropriate weight.
I'm afraid in canon there are none who will know of Jack's heroic end, which really saddens me. But that's what fanfiction is for, right?
Thank you for reading, and for the thoughtful comments. I truly appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 10:41 am (UTC)There is a distance set between them that has nothing to do with proximity. *nods* That's exactly how it seems like between the two of them at the end of the movie.
She sees Jack, straight and calm, fateful laughter in his eyes, touching his lips. He would have stayed. Ouch. Painful. As is this, but it's also true, of course: She has done that to him, she with her fears and doubts, her determination and her ruthlessness.
Loved that you use the backstory with the slaves, if he saved them it makes sense that they would mourn him, and it's great that Elizabeth gets to hear about that. “Oh, he good in lots of ways. But Jack Sparrow still a man.” That gave me shivers :-) I like Tia's kindness, and you write her very well.
I'm glad Elizabeth finds out what really happened, through that dream/vision. I've been thinking about that, too, how she never got to see his heroic moment and what a pity that was. There are so many tangled emotions here and I do wonder how they’ll handle it all in AWE. And Elizabeth's reactions are perfectly understandable, I want to both laugh or weep and urge him to hurry, right along with her!
“Jack!”
Half awake, she knows she whispered his name. The dream is fading as he lifts his sword with a feral light in his eye, and she groans aloud, but her eyes open to blackness and a mere echo of gallant, defiant words.
Hello, beastie! Really tugs at the heartstrings, and this is where I start to sniffle…
“There were no chains this time, Will,” she murmurs. No chains. “There were only wings.” Utterly beautiful. Beautiful.
Thank you so very much, my dear, it’s a most wonderful gift! *hugs tightly*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 12:37 pm (UTC)I'm very happy you enjoyed the gift, in spite of the angst. I think we are in agreement that the situations and outcomes of DMC are endlessly fascinating to speculate upon. The next nine months can't go fast enough in regard to PotC.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 12:41 pm (UTC)You have reminded me that I need to take my DMC soundtrack to play in the car --nothing like the appropriate music to inspire plot bunnies.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 09:39 pm (UTC)haha, you're right! I need to do more of that as well. I've only listened to DMC in the car once, and that was on the way home from Borders when I bought it. And if that will induce more plot bunnies on your part, then I'm very glad to have reminded you. *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-08-23 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 09:00 am (UTC)No chains. Only wings. How beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 09:10 am (UTC)Yes, indeed. As
I was at Disneyland today, and heard a rumor that Johnny's signed on for more sequels. Even so, they'd better wrap up #3 fairly neatly.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Lin. I really appreciate it.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-28 11:34 pm (UTC)That look. That smile. That voice, uttering the one word: Pirate! The last things she had of him. Gifts of a dead man.
This is a beautiful description of that beautiful moment. I love that she sees it as a gift—absolution from the man she had decided not to trust.
She sees Jack, straight and calm, fateful laughter in his eyes, touching his lips. He would have stayed. The shackle on his wrist denies him the chance to prove it. Denies him the chance to meet his death as a free man. She has done that to him, she with her fears and doubts, her determination and her ruthlessness.
This does have to be so hard to bear for Elizabeth who knows what freedom means to Jack. And even after he came back, she did not leave him the freedom to be a hero in the end, to choose his own chains.
She must watch as the horror rises up to claim him, seizing, tearing, crushing him where he is chained to the mast.
It will be interesting to find out if she ever learns that this picture, which she must have, of his end is in fact false. But what an excruciating image.
I love that you put Jack’s backstory of freeing the slaves in here. It emphasizes Jack’s essential goodness and gives even more cause for regret that such a man is gone.
“Oh, he good in lots of ways. But Jack Sparrow still a man.”
I love how you write Tia, using the structure of her words, but leaving them comprehensible rather than lost in attempted dialect. And this is so very true. And Elizabeth is also good, but still a woman. One gets the sense that Tia knows that and wants Elizabeth to know it too, to forgive herself.
he is doing his utmost, straining, cursing, determined, ignoring the pain, and finally the blood as he succeeds in foiling her designs.
This was such a painful, heart-breaking, heroic moment in the movie—the quintessence of Jack’s determination to be free.
searching for words that will comfort them both, and finding them, at last. “There were no chains this time, Will,” she murmurs. No chains. “There were only wings.”
I love that she wants to comfort them both, and that this dream helps. As others have said, that is a wonderful last line. A very beautiful and satisfying read.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-29 05:27 am (UTC)She did! She's a wonderful actress, and was really such a great choice to play Elizabeth. Smart of them to choose her, even as young as she was.
It may be that they'll play it down in #3, but that's what I thought of the first time I saw DMC: no one would really ever know what a heroic stand Jack made at the last. And of course Elizabeth can only imagine the worst.
Well, those people were weeping over him for some reason, and it makes sense if that's the canon backstory. I hope we find out something about that in #3 too.
LOL! I wasn't confident enough to attempt the dialect! It's pretty different, and not that easy for me to "hear". But her speech patterns are unique as well, so apparently that was enough to get the idea across. I'm very happy you think it worked.
Thanks so much for reading and leaving such a long, thoughtful review. I really appreciate it.