Here's your muse, Tammy. :D
Title: Heaven
Pairing: Slight Clarke/Mary... if you squint really really hard...
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own nuffink. I do wish I owned Ralph Clarke, however...
Word Count: 413 words
Summary: On the Charlotte, Clarke ruminates on his wedding ring.
A/N: I might write a different MB story using the same bunny, at a later date. This was an intentional, plotless muse based on my icon of this post. Notice Clarke’s wedding ring is not on his ring finger. This is a muse on why it’s on his pinky instead. This oneshot was written for tammsla.
_________________
Lieutenant Clarke stared up at the ceiling, eyes blank, lost in thought, in memories. Sad memories. Everything was nothing, and that’s all life was made of - nothing. Clarke knew it. He’d been happy, been sad, been angry, for what? - nothing. Life came and went. Just a waste of time, waiting for death, and even death would be dull. Why have souls? Yes, Heaven, the good book told of a beautiful place called Heaven. Clarke had never been. He thought he had, when he’d slipped the small silver band on his finger, but he hadn’t. It hadn’t been Heaven - it had been life, just more nothingness.
He lived for nothing, now. Maybe there was Heaven, but if there was, it was back in England. Maybe the Heaven he knew no longer existed, maybe God thought him unworthy of any cause. He thought himself unworthy, for certain. All that kept him going was the young child sleeping on his floor. All he saw was an uneducated girl, an opportunity to mean something. A Heaven. A way to live life meaningfully.
A new land? The point being what? All the more room for nothingness, for space, for people to pointlessly laugh and cry, slave away, enjoy themselves. Everyone wanted to be happy, and Clarke pondered that. He had felt happy once, and no matter how full, how alive he felt, he saw no point in being alive. His wife was gone, and the only thing to occupy him was the memory of his wife.
Memories - extra parts of nothingness to join the vast emptiness in his stomach. His heart wanted to feel, his head saw no point. Clarke always let his head get in the way, but the girl... Mary... she was his head. He didn’t know what to think. He’d promised she would remain innocent in his care, as he remained in a faithful marriage, but really... was it all that faithful? She had deserted him. Left him.
Pondering the idea of an annulment, Clarke slid his wedding band off of his finger and fingered it thoughtfully. Was there some kind of unintentional symbolism? Or was it just another ache, another pointless emotion? Another harsh reminder of his ignorance to the world, the ignorance that remained even there, even as he gazed upon what could be Heaven?
His stare didn’t even waver as the ring changed fingers, didn’t waver as Mary rolled over in her sleep, unknowingly turning her back on the weeping, broken lieutenant.