Fic: Insanity
Title: Insanity
Author: commodore_lydia
Word Count: 964
Rating: PG
Characters: Elizabeth Swann [James Norrington mentioned]
Pairings: Norribeth - of a funny sort. Can a pairing be doubly one-sided?
Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, nor am I profiting by the exercise of its characters. But I can dream.
Summary: SPOILERS! A deleted scene from AWE, of sorts? Yes, this is a fix-it!fic. Elizabeth, saved in body but now hopelessly lost in mind, tries to come to grips with the insanity of the world - and a change of heart in herself - in the wake of James's death.
Warnings: OneShot. Angst. Mild language. Un-betaed and written in a fit of inspiration. Oh, and character death.
It is a cold night. She wishes it weren’t - she wishes it weren’t a great deal of things - but the fact remains that this night - this godforsaken, endless, starless night, is cold, and will only get colder.
The crew of the Empress, at least, knows to stay out of her path - after all, she is their Captain, and though they cannot pretend to know why she mourns, they allow her to, and allow the ship to run its course to Shipwreck Cove.
A pang of regret goes through her heart. She knows Shipwreck Cove is the last place in the world she ought to head, and she realizes that this is insane. The whole world is insane, and all of its inhabitants, similarly afflicted. She wants to laugh but somehow, her halting giggle by and by becomes the hiccough of stifled sobs. She’s insane, dammit. She’s gone insane.
Still, her mind ironically thinks, a lost mind is more recoverable than a lost life. While she wonders what to say to that, she is keenly - excruciatingly aware of a lost life.
This world is insane. James Norrington - The Scourge of the Caribbean, in his former days - died to protect a crew of pirates. And a certain pirate in particular - a Captain - Captain Elizabeth Swann. That in of itself is insane. James Norrington - the best man she ever knew - died at the hands of another good man.
And the most insane of all - James is dead.
The fact is inexcusable and unable to be helped. James is dead, dead, dead. James is dead. This is insane. James wasn’t supposed to die - he couldn’t die! She still needed him - and, funnily - insanely, one might say - she never really knew she needed him until that unlikely need became impossibility.
She, alone, curses the irony of the world along with its sheer insanity.
She also knows cursing will not help any, and only satisfies her because it is insane and so is she. James wouldn’t have approved, she is sure. Then, what does it matter? He’s dead.
Something has gone out of her life, and left a gaping hole.
Of course, would the hole have been so big, if he hadn’t kissed her? She ponders the insanity of a world in which James would ever kiss her, unasked but unwittingly wanted. No, she knows. The hole would have been just as big, only she would not have felt it so soon. Perhaps.
All this has yet to lead her to some peace, but there is no rest for the weary or wicked, and she feels she is both. Unimaginably weary, yes - these last hours have put years on her soul; and yet more wicked.
To feel wicked, now, is to succumb to insanity, she notes. There is absolutely nothing she could have done. James made his own choices - he took the burdens of others along with his sins, and bore them to his grave. She feels wicked for taking advantage of his goodness, for allowing him to bear the blame for everything that went wrong. She is wicked, compared to him.
He lied to her, only to save her. She lied to him, to save Will. Oh, she is wicked, she knows, but there’s nothing to be done about it in this insane world. Because, she is beginning to understand, it is only the wicked who survive.
She longs for simpler times - she longs for her youth in Port Royal, now. Life was easier - clearer then - she knew who was good and who was wicked, and good always prevailed. Now, she hardly knows which way is up. What can she do? The tide of reason is gone, and insanity - she is over her head in insanity.
Her head’s spinning like mad. Now she knows why James liked the world better in black and white. Now she knows a lot of things about James she never knew, and would like nothing better than to talk to him, to tell him she’s sorry. Unfortunately, as such things always are, the dead are, well, dead, and there’s nothing she can see that will change that fact.
She is still standing, she realizes. There’s nothing more to do than to fall to the deck and give into those swelling sobs, but she also knows that if she does, she will never get up. It’s another insanity of the modern world, that there is no time to grieve for those who are needed most, she thinks, willing herself to do anything but give in.
Suddenly her throat is raw from screaming, and eyes stinging. In her grief, she forgot. She is still soaked to the bone.
A silent attendant finally makes herself known, and politely suggests she find something more suitable for a Captain. Elizabeth is still in shock, but lets the attendant dress her. When the question comes to what she will wear, there is one word.
Black.
It is insane world, and keeping to that age-old custom of mourning seems useless, but it’s all she has, now. She has nothing of James to remember him by, and yet he gave her everything he had to give - what he wanted in return, he never demanded, and the only thing he ever took from her was a kiss - a single, respectable kiss.
Is it insane in this moment to be willing to sacrifice everything - yes, even stupid, lovely Will - to have another chance with James? Yes, she knows it is. But she can’t.
James died for her. Though she had cruelly disregarded everything else he had done for her, this last gift would be remembered - only, she knows, she must risk it for it to ever mean anything.
And that - perhaps even more so than James’s death - is the most insane notion of all.
Author: commodore_lydia
Word Count: 964
Rating: PG
Characters: Elizabeth Swann [James Norrington mentioned]
Pairings: Norribeth - of a funny sort. Can a pairing be doubly one-sided?
Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, nor am I profiting by the exercise of its characters. But I can dream.
Summary: SPOILERS! A deleted scene from AWE, of sorts? Yes, this is a fix-it!fic. Elizabeth, saved in body but now hopelessly lost in mind, tries to come to grips with the insanity of the world - and a change of heart in herself - in the wake of James's death.
Warnings: OneShot. Angst. Mild language. Un-betaed and written in a fit of inspiration. Oh, and character death.
It is a cold night. She wishes it weren’t - she wishes it weren’t a great deal of things - but the fact remains that this night - this godforsaken, endless, starless night, is cold, and will only get colder.
The crew of the Empress, at least, knows to stay out of her path - after all, she is their Captain, and though they cannot pretend to know why she mourns, they allow her to, and allow the ship to run its course to Shipwreck Cove.
A pang of regret goes through her heart. She knows Shipwreck Cove is the last place in the world she ought to head, and she realizes that this is insane. The whole world is insane, and all of its inhabitants, similarly afflicted. She wants to laugh but somehow, her halting giggle by and by becomes the hiccough of stifled sobs. She’s insane, dammit. She’s gone insane.
Still, her mind ironically thinks, a lost mind is more recoverable than a lost life. While she wonders what to say to that, she is keenly - excruciatingly aware of a lost life.
This world is insane. James Norrington - The Scourge of the Caribbean, in his former days - died to protect a crew of pirates. And a certain pirate in particular - a Captain - Captain Elizabeth Swann. That in of itself is insane. James Norrington - the best man she ever knew - died at the hands of another good man.
And the most insane of all - James is dead.
The fact is inexcusable and unable to be helped. James is dead, dead, dead. James is dead. This is insane. James wasn’t supposed to die - he couldn’t die! She still needed him - and, funnily - insanely, one might say - she never really knew she needed him until that unlikely need became impossibility.
She, alone, curses the irony of the world along with its sheer insanity.
She also knows cursing will not help any, and only satisfies her because it is insane and so is she. James wouldn’t have approved, she is sure. Then, what does it matter? He’s dead.
Something has gone out of her life, and left a gaping hole.
Of course, would the hole have been so big, if he hadn’t kissed her? She ponders the insanity of a world in which James would ever kiss her, unasked but unwittingly wanted. No, she knows. The hole would have been just as big, only she would not have felt it so soon. Perhaps.
All this has yet to lead her to some peace, but there is no rest for the weary or wicked, and she feels she is both. Unimaginably weary, yes - these last hours have put years on her soul; and yet more wicked.
To feel wicked, now, is to succumb to insanity, she notes. There is absolutely nothing she could have done. James made his own choices - he took the burdens of others along with his sins, and bore them to his grave. She feels wicked for taking advantage of his goodness, for allowing him to bear the blame for everything that went wrong. She is wicked, compared to him.
He lied to her, only to save her. She lied to him, to save Will. Oh, she is wicked, she knows, but there’s nothing to be done about it in this insane world. Because, she is beginning to understand, it is only the wicked who survive.
She longs for simpler times - she longs for her youth in Port Royal, now. Life was easier - clearer then - she knew who was good and who was wicked, and good always prevailed. Now, she hardly knows which way is up. What can she do? The tide of reason is gone, and insanity - she is over her head in insanity.
Her head’s spinning like mad. Now she knows why James liked the world better in black and white. Now she knows a lot of things about James she never knew, and would like nothing better than to talk to him, to tell him she’s sorry. Unfortunately, as such things always are, the dead are, well, dead, and there’s nothing she can see that will change that fact.
She is still standing, she realizes. There’s nothing more to do than to fall to the deck and give into those swelling sobs, but she also knows that if she does, she will never get up. It’s another insanity of the modern world, that there is no time to grieve for those who are needed most, she thinks, willing herself to do anything but give in.
Suddenly her throat is raw from screaming, and eyes stinging. In her grief, she forgot. She is still soaked to the bone.
A silent attendant finally makes herself known, and politely suggests she find something more suitable for a Captain. Elizabeth is still in shock, but lets the attendant dress her. When the question comes to what she will wear, there is one word.
Black.
It is insane world, and keeping to that age-old custom of mourning seems useless, but it’s all she has, now. She has nothing of James to remember him by, and yet he gave her everything he had to give - what he wanted in return, he never demanded, and the only thing he ever took from her was a kiss - a single, respectable kiss.
Is it insane in this moment to be willing to sacrifice everything - yes, even stupid, lovely Will - to have another chance with James? Yes, she knows it is. But she can’t.
James died for her. Though she had cruelly disregarded everything else he had done for her, this last gift would be remembered - only, she knows, she must risk it for it to ever mean anything.
And that - perhaps even more so than James’s death - is the most insane notion of all.