InsaneJournal

The Governor’s two daughters were known for their beauty not only in Port Royal but in London too where they had spent the last 2 years with their aunt, Mildred, who tried to teach them all they would have had to learn from their mother had she not died when giving birth to Sarah. In all honesty, this venture had been less than successful. The girls were wild in nature and felt suffocated in the confines of the London high society. That’s probably the reason why they enjoyed staying with Elizabeth and Joseph Norrington. Though Joseph was more rigid than anyone else about keeping up appearances and following the written and unwritten laws of society, behind the closed doors of his home he felt free to be a loving husband and devoted father, nothing more, nothing less. And Elizabeth, well she seemed even keener on freedom than Mary and Sarah, so the three of them got on terribly well. After two years they left London and a teary aunt who was convinced she had turned the two wild little girls into respectable ladies, fit for marriage. True enough, they acted the part well, but deep down they were still the fiery girls they had always been, who always did as they pleased.

“Have you heard?” Two steps forward. One back. Stab. The sound of blades meeting. Heavy breathing. The sea silently, calmly lapping at the shore.

“Heard what?”

“She’s getting married.” Stab. A playful pat with the blade on the arm.

“Pay attention, Tom. This could have cost you your life.”

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who got stabbed in the thigh just a month ago by a pirate when entering a supposedly empty cabin?”

A cheeky grin. An annoyed scowl.

“Again.” One step forward. Three back. Duck. Jump. Stab. Clink of blades. “Now tell me, Tom…” Two steps back. Three forward. “Who’s getting married?” Stab. Miss.

“The Governor’s daughter” Stab. Blood. “Jamie. God, I’m so sorry. How… I thought you’d…”

“It’s fine, Tom, just a small cut, don’t worry.”

“Here, let me.”

“Not your shirt, you fool! Molly will kill you.”

“I’m really sorry, Jamie… but I didn’t even really try… you just stopped and…”

“I said don’t worry, I’ve had much worse.”

“There. It’s not too tight, is it?”

“No, it’s fine.” Fingers rest on a newly bandaged forearm just a second longer before they pull away. “So… Sarah’s getting married?”

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No. Mary is.”

“Oh.” A sigh of relief carefully stifled. A nervous smile. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Searching eyes. “William Turner.”

“Will? I’m sure the Governor will be overjoyed to have a blacksmith in the family. Luckily Mary’s not the type to change her mind just because of social expectations. Sometimes I almost think she’d be happier if she had been adopted by ordinary people and not a governor and his wife.” A carefree smile, trying desperate to erase the suspicion from those deep eyes. “I always forget that Will has grown up. When I look at him I still see the boy who used to follow me around, trying to corner me into teaching him how to hold a sword.” Silence. “Isn’t this amazing? Our Mary getting married. I’m sure they’ll be happy, don’t you think, Tom?” Rambling. Too much. Too artificial. There’s something in those silvery blue eyes. Something. A terrible suspicion.

“Isn’t she pretty, Jamie?”

“Yes. Beautiful. Will is very lucky.”

“Oh I meant Sarah.”

“Oh… yes, yes she is pretty.” A deep blush in front of those searching eyes.

“You know, I might just ask her for a dance.”

“Don’t. She’s not that sort of girl.”

With a wink. “Every girl is the right sort for a dance.”

“You know what I mean, Tom.”

“What do you take me for, Jamie?” Hurt. “Do you really think every girl I smile at finds herself in my bed the next morning?”

“No, of course not… I just…”

“Then why shouldn’t I dance with her?”

“Because I asked you not to.” A voice too loud. The champagne glass shattered on the floor. Some guests looking curiously.

“Fine.” Feet walking away. Again.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It was my fault. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Friends again?” A wide grin.

“Well, let me think about it… no…” Eyes widening. “Oh, you stupid ass, when have I been anything else? It would take more than such a petty fight to separate us.”

“Bastard.” But there’s a huge smile. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?” A chuckle. A friendly hug.

“Tom, wait there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Ok, but be quick, we don’t want to miss Molly’s dinner, do we, Jamie?” A nervous smile. Silence. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I’m just not sure how to say this…”

Cold fear hidden behind a patient smile.

“I’m engaged.” A long silence.

“To Sarah?” It’s barely a whisper. His face unreadable.

“Yes.”

A slight nod. “Do you love her?”

“Well… I… she’s sweet and… I don’t know… I guess I do…”

Shining silver blue eyes meet deep green ones. “Then I’m happy for you, Jamie.”

A tight embrace. Too long. Too short. Too much. Yet not enough. Wetness. Just a bit longer. Just a bit.

The door opens.

“Dinner’s ready, my dears.”

The moment is over. Feet running away.

Sad, old eyes, reproachful.

“You fool.”

He was happy for you. He helped with the wedding. He smiled. He flirted. He was dying inside. You never saw it was just an act, did you? No one saw. Almost no one. But the only one who did see, was the only one who had no power to tell you. She should have let you go. She should have rejected your offer. But she loved you too much to just push you away. Was it selfishness? Probably. But love too. She saw how his heart was breaking because she knew hers would too. She was so scared that you would realize it was a mistake, that you would realize she was not the one.

Stop torturing yourself.

But it didn’t happen. You married her. You were good to her. And she almost believed she had been wrong.

But then it happened.

She was taken.

“James.”

“Not now, Tom.”

“It’s urgent.”

“Well, it can’t be as urgent as evaluating how much damage has been caused by the attack, can it?”

“They’ve taken Sarah.” Cold fear.

“James, you should rest. We won’t be there faster even if you exhaust yourself completely.” Gentle but determined arms, guiding to the bed.

“It’s my fault, Tom.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. She was taken because she’s the Governor’s daughter, not because she’s your…”

“But I should have been there. It’s my duty to protect her, she’s my wife.”

“It’s also your duty to protect Port Royal, that’s what you were doing. And it’s your duty to take care of yourself, you need to be strong when we arrive. Come, lie down. Don’t worry, James, she’ll be fine. They asked for ransom, they can’t hurt her, you know that. Now sleep.” Soft lips on a forehead. A mistake. Too much. Not enough. A gentle kiss on closed eyelids. Another on a stubby cheek. And then… lips meeting lips. Pulling back. Hesitance. Then a hand reaching up to trace the faint line of an old scar.

“James, I…” A long finger placed on soft lips. The black ribbon pulled out of long dark hair. Hope in blue eyes. And love. So much love. Lips meeting again, tentative at first but full of need and long suppressed desire. Fingers pushing aside clothing with forced slowness. To cherish every second, every kiss, every scar. If it’s only this once… Moans mingle with each other in the heavy air. Lips and fingertips heating up soft skin. The mind is screaming and sobbing. Stop. Don’t do this. But the body has been conquered by another tyrant. The heart.

“Oh… God, Jamie… please…” Questioning green eyes. Are you sure? Are you sure you can bear letting go again afterwards? The only answer. A kiss. No. Long arms and strong legs closing around a lean body. But there’s no way back now. “Please…” A kiss is all there is to ease the way inside. Pain. Burning agony. But not in the body. The soul cries in destructive flames of scourging love and punishing guilt. And fear. Is there friendship after love? Is there peace after pain? Is there life after separation? “Aagh… Jamie…” A hard thrust. Long legs pulling closer, deeper… more. Soft caresses turn into bruising need on heated skin. A scarred back arching off the bed. Being pulled up into a hard lap ready to burst with desire. So much deeper. Tight. Hard. Control lost over kisses. Lips missing lips in unleashed passion. “Oooh, God… I… Jamie… I… I love you, I love…” So close. No. Please. Not yet. Not so soon. And then there are the mixed cries of relief into the silent night. And it’s over.

“Tom, I…” Long, trembling fingers on bruised lips.

“Don’t… please, don’t say anything that could spoil this… please.” Two bodies in a crushing embrace, two minds desperately trying not to think, two hearts clinging to each other as if to dear life.

“Why do you always talk to your books and not to me?” Back stiffening with guilt. Eyes still firmly directed at the pages of the open book. “It’s almost as bad as praying to a bearded, ignorant, fictional old man.”

“My books help me in understanding myself…”

“Have they told you you’re an ignorant, selfish, cold-hearted prick?” Voice dripping in venom to cover the pain. The book is silently placed on the table. An exasperated sigh.

“They help me in understanding what I feel and in making decisions…”

“Oh really? And what have they told you? What has Othello told you about marital bliss, huh? Or Edward II about what happens when…” with sudden desperation “They’re just books, written almost 200 years ago. Jamie… They’re not valid anymore… we are not them.”

“They reveal universal truths about human nature…”

“Maybe but you can’t let yourself be tied down by them. Jamie. Wait. Please talk to me. I understand this is difficult but you can’t just pretend nothing happened. LOOK AT ME!” The silence heavy with emotions, with need and restraints, with boundaries and desire.

“Please, don’t run away from me. Don’t run away from this. Jamie…” A needy, desperate kiss. Pressed against the hard door of the cabin by a yearning body. “Please, don’t leave me…”

Eyes shut tight. Hands clutching a terrified, mourning face – uncertain if they should push away or pull closer. A shaky breath resembling a sob. “I have a wife.” Barely whispered. “And I love her.”

You wanted to go yourself to pay the ransom for your wife but they wouldn’t let you. It was considered too dangerous and they didn’t want to lose their Admiral. So you sent him. He was the one you trusted most with your wife’s life and strangely enough no one argued about it being too dangerous for the Captain to go out and start bargaining with pirates. It all went smoothly, he was serene and precise, authorial and powerful. A true leader and while it gave strength to the terrified hostage, it rather intimidated the pirates – it turned out this was their first venture after their captain had been killed by another pirate who had been their captain before being mutinied upon some years ago and now said pirate took back his ship and took revenge upon his mutinous first mate. What a mess, she thought and was happy to return to her ordered life on the side of a loving husband. But as soon as she was safely aboard the Interceptor again she was painfully reminded of the mess her own life was in. You were overjoyed to have her back and only had eyes for her. Yet… something had changed. She could feel it. And it terrified her. She needed to know if she still had her husband’s heart. And was too afraid to ask the real question – if she had ever held it in the first place.

“What happened?”

“Sarah… I… didn’t hear you come in.” A forced, fake smile. Fruitless attempts at softening a hard, piercing, blaming look.

“Something happened… please, Tom, tell me.” Voice tainted by panic and suppressed tears.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Will he l-leave me?” Words slashing the tissue of their hearts.

“What are you…”

“Will he leave me for you?” Two sets of blue eyes meeting through the veil of liquid pain. A light shake of the head is all he can manage. Silence.

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” A nod. Long silence. Uncertainty. What can one say to another suffering from the same fatal disease? I understand you. I know your pain. But I won’t choose death just so you can live.

“I love him.” Just three words. But meaning so much more. I will take care of him. I will do everything in my power to make him happy. I will forget his betrayal and never question his feelings.

“Yes, I know.” Just three words. But meaning so much more. I will stay by his side even if it just makes this all consuming wound grow faster. I will do everything in my power to make him happy. I will forget his betrayal and never question his feelings.

A silent truce that turns rivals into awkward allies.

On the surface there was peace for some days. You spoiled her terribly with your presence, never left her side and she blossomed like a flower when the sun only shines on her. He was always close too, as Captain of the ship and your best friend, it was his duty to ensure she had all she needed – at least that’s what everyone believed. No one saw how it was merely a charade. No one saw he was nothing but a corpse that had been bleeding for so long that it had no power to put on new bandages anymore. No one saw that your main concern was to show him how much you loved her, to show him that you were happier with her. And no one saw how terrified she was that sooner or later you won’t believe your own lies and will realize it was a mistake to have chosen her.

Why are you doing this?

This strange, miserable triangle couldn’t last. All three of you knew that it had to end one way or another. The only question was which of the three possible endings Destiny had in store for you.

Revenge?

Tragedy?

Forgiveness?  

And when it came, it was not an ending any of you would have chosen.

“What’s happening?”

“Sarah, get down.” Urgency.

“James…” Cannon fire. Two powerful voices shouting out orders. Confident and unafraid. Another ship. The Scorpion. Pirates.

“Tom, get her below and stay there with her.”

“No... I’ll stay here with you…”

“That was an order, Mr Pullings.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Give me a sword.”

“Sarah, you don’t even know how to hold one.”

“Just give me a bloody sword!”

“He’d never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

“But if anything happens to him that’s the death of all three of us…” Hesitance. The urge to be at the side of the one he loves is unbearable. A nod.

“All right. But stay close to me.”

The air heavy with smoke. Noise. The unbearable noise of the wounded and dying. In the centre of the fights a tall, brave man, a powerful leader leading his men to victory.

“I’m so sorry. Oh God, I…” But there’s no answer to her cries from the man who had given his life to save hers.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She had imagined many possible endings but not this. Never this. She would have given anything not to have to watch you crouch on the dirty, bloodstained deck, completely motionless, frozen in mute agony, clinging to the lifeless form of your best friend. No one dared approach you for hours. They silently cleared the deck and lock the remaining pirates into the brig while you didn’t even budge from the spot where he had died. You were sitting there on the floor with him in your arms, his lifeless head resting on your shoulder as if he was just sleeping, you were sitting there completely silent for long hours, your tears the only evidence of your torture. Your wife was kneeling at your side, sobbing silently, unable to leave, unable to stay, unable to stop thinking this should never have happened. To stop thinking it was her fault. He had died to save her. It should have been her lying there. It was her fault… it should have been… her… it… it should have been me, James… I’m so… sorry… I…

Strong, comforting arms around a fragile, shaking body. A bleeding heart still clinging to the smile of another.

Why is nothing as heavy as the present? All the possible roads leading to the future starting from under one’s feet. Some are wide and easy to travel, others barely visible paths only treaded by a few with tentative steps. Some are hidden from view and one only realizes they have been there when it’s too late.  Some are shorter than others. Some end before they have even started.

But one must choose. Always. Again and again. One must learn to live with the choices of the past and not tremble in the face of new ones. There are always new choices to make. It’s a promise. And a threat.

Why is it so hard to read the story of your own life?

What will happen next?