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As far as Carolyn knew, they’ve never touched. A few close calls, maybe, wherein an item began to fall, and two hands attempted to reach for it. Those either ended with her managing to scoop it quickly, or a levitating object being placed back into her hands with care. Never the buzzing of two fingertips making contact. It’s not like she could see him, granted, but something about the air typically gave him away. Being around him made Carolyn feel like the air before a thunderstorm. One of these days, she’s bound to see her hair sticking up.
Of course, this all begged the question of if he even had a form to display. Carolyn knew well enough now that silly sheet-ghosts were hardly accurate portrayals of real spirits. Neither were malicious poltergeists. Despite all that she’s read, no book would have prepared her for her current living arrangement.
Perhaps the Captain was more like particles of air, convalescing together whenever he required a firmer grip. Mentally, Carolyn teased with this concept, before tossing it aside with a mental and physical shake; it wouldn’t explain the brush of wind when he sidesteps her, nor his willingness to go through doors as a normal man would, instead of a spectre. She was about to workshop another explanation, when a voice startled her into reality.
“My dear, you’ve been gazing rather intently at nothing for quite some time now.”
Carolyn snapped up at her (their) desk, face warming with equal parts embarrassment, surprise, and a foolish fluttering third feeling.
“Why, Captain,” she began, mouth twisting in a sly smile, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?
She got up, bowing at where she heard his voice last.
“ Especially if someone can’t get caught doing it.” She laughed a little at this, plopping down onto the comfier sofa while drawing her legs up under her. Without quite knowing why, she patted the empty space to her side.
The Captain huffed, both laugh and scoff.
“Can’t one simply be concerned for your wellbeing?”
As he spoke, his voice traveled from the desk to where she invited him. He sighed as he sat. Although Carolyn couldn’t see a difference, the Captain’s presence next to her was undeniable. That familiar tingly feeling at the back of her neck returned. It spurred something inside her to search for answers.
She started off with praise.
“Well, I do appreciate your concern.”
He gave a pleased hum of acknowledgement.
“In all honesty,” Carolyn said, “I was lost in thought because I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?”
The Captain’s voice was not without curiosity. Carolyn thought that if she could see him, his head would be cocked in her direction, eyebrows raised at a wild angle. The feeling within her gut burned hot at the mental image. Tucking her feet in further, she scooted closer to that humming emptiness she considered a friend.
With some hesitation, Carolyn continued their conversation.
“I was wondering what you might look like. If you could appear, I mean.”
The room went silent, save for the pattering of rain outside and the hammering of her heart in her chest. Carolyn nibbled at the interior of her lip. Perhaps it was too sore a subject for her friend, no matter how long it’s been since his demise.
Just as she was about to fluff over the whole affair, the Captain broke the silence with a voice softer than his usual boom.
“Well,”
Carolyn wasn’t sure if the swallow she heard was her own.
“I imagine that I’d appear how I was. Before death.”
Oh .
He imagined ?
In the quiet that followed, Carolyn pondered the implications of his words. The Captain must’ve taken her perplexed expression for discomfort, for he suddenly continued.
“Don’t picture me as some ghastly mirage, I beg you. You have my word that from what I can tell ,” he stressed the phrase, “my looks are largely regular.”
This only served to confuse Carolyn more.
“Captain,” she said, looking at the area where his face would hypothetically be.
“You are able to appear? Physically?”
Evidently, these were not the best words to pick, for he exhaled a huff of faux air. Outside, the rain was joined by a low grumble of thunder.
“As physical as a ghost can be, yes.”
“Well, then!” Carolyn said, jumping at his affirmation. “May I see you?”
The Captain startled at this, voice rearing backwards.
“Mrs. Muir! You women are far too eager to engage in things you scarcely understand.”
“Oh, but I’d very much like to understand,” Carolyn responded, face flushing slightly at the implications of his remark. She nudged closer to him, briefly sensing his electric hum before he scuttled further away.
“And after all,” she noted, “I’ve seen your painting at least a hundred times over by now.”
“I needn’t remind you, Madam, that the flesh and blood of one’s self is much different than a portrait.”
His voice stiffened.
“Even the perceived notion of flesh and blood.”
This seemed like a flimsy excuse to Carolyn, but pointing that out would only upset him. She clearly needed to take a different approach. There must be some middle ground that allowed the Captain to safely get over his archaic pride while also satisfying her steadily-growing curiosity. Leaning back against her section of the couch, Carolyn rolled possibilities around in her head. Outside, the rain continued to patter.
*
Captain Gregg did not like the expression on Carolyn’s face. He’d already revealed too much, and that damnable female trait of inquiry looked to be working overtime within his companion. Was it wrong for a man to prefer privacy of self? He hadn’t seen his face in over a hundred years. Something about the whole affair seemed scandalous to him… If a little exciting. As much as the Captain would prefer to dematerialize, to unpack the subject of his visibility another day, a hearty coil of attachment to Mrs. Muir kept him bound to finish the conversation. Hopefully without heated words and traitorous feelings.
He continued to study his overly curious friend, a rumble of thunder rolling in the distance.
*
Carolyn got it. While provoking his temper directly won’t do either of them any good, egging him on a bit may prove fruitful.
“Okay, Captain, I hear you. I know you’re not a cowardly man—-”
“An astute observation.” He interrupted dryly.
“---Thank you.” Carolyn continued. “You say yourself how much of a heartthrob you once were! If you look anything like your portrait, then you’d be a sight for sore eyes.”
She smiled, genuinely, and something in the Captain’s hollow chest tightened at the sincerity.
“And I trust your judgement. If you say that you look normal, then I really have no reason to doubt you. Not that looks matter, of course. You’d still be my friend.”
*
Oh, what a fiendish way to appeal to his better self.
The Captain gave a long sigh, letting loose unnamed anxieties as a nervous roll of thunder sounded outside.
“You make a strong argument, Mrs. Muir. I will accept your request, under two conditions of my own.”
Her quick nod compelled him to continue.
“One: You are not to comment upon my appearance. Two: …I reserve the right to have my eyes closed.”
At her sudden gape, he grimaced, not at all feeling like the courageous sailor that he considered himself. With Carolyn, he felt soft… But maybe it was yet another change he could get used to.
Perhaps she sensed his trepidation, for her mouth closed without further comment.
“Alright, Captain,” she shifted on the sofa that they shared. “You have my word. Thank you.”
To his surprise, she closed her eyes, lips drawn in an eager smile.
“Take your time.”
A whirlpool of emotion swept through his invisible core. Her patience astounded him, and he nearly swore at the unintentional rumble of thunder that his feelings caused.
Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, blast… ”
Taking a deep breath, if only in spirit, he summoned his body into visibility.
There was no fanfare from his end, only the sudden sight of his usual sailor’s garb, and a barely-perceptible difference in feeling. To him, it was equivalent to breathing in a whisper of salty air. Although it wasn’t much, it was nevertheless a feeling he didn’t know he missed.
Better than this feeling was the sight of the oblivious Carolyn. The woman looked positively angelic, a polite smile highlighting the beauty of her face. She was a testament to her sex, equal parts stubborn as she was patient, fiery as much as flexible; All magnified by the elegance of her features and the grace in which she held herself.
Slowly lifting traitorous, shaking hands to frame the sides of Carolyn’s face, it took every ounce of Captain Gregg’s ghostly core not to take her in his grasp as gently as possible. Visibility was easy, tangibility was much harder. Clenching teeth as well as hands, the Captain quietly brought his fists back down to his sides.
This was one of the most strenuous nights of his afterlife.
He swallowed, hoping that the rain outside covered up the audible sound, and shut his own eyes.
“...Go on, Mrs. Muir.”
*
Carolyn’s heart felt like it would explode out of her chest. While she wanted to give the Captain as much time as he needed to get acclimated, there was a steadily growing excitement as she waited. This was a big step for the both of them, and the wait was near agony. Her entire body seemed to buzz with nervous energy, pulsing in time with the rainfall. At one point, she felt a pleasant hum concentrated around her cheeks, but the feeling left soon after.
When the Captain finally gave Carolyn the go-ahead, her throat felt dry as all hell.
With the utmost care, Carolyn opened her eyes.
And, lord, what a sight.
Every bit as composed as his portrait, Captain Gregg was gorgeous. But oh so alive , as ironic as it sounded. Carolyn followed the sharp angles of his face and cheekbones, much ruddier than the muted cool hues she was accustomed to. His beard was gruff with personality, and greyer than she expected. But most distracting was the finely sculpted slope of his nose, and the well-worn creases about his eyes. With a warm shudder throughout her body, Carolyn wondered if the Captain’s eyes held the same brilliant blue of his portrait. It was a thought which captivated her, if only his eyes were opened. Although his eyebrows were furrowed with only the slightest inclination of worry, the ramrod posture in which he held himself couldn’t hide his all-encompassing tension. Carolyn’s wistful gaze fell upon the vice grip of his fists. Her chest ached at the sight.
Reaching out to touch them, she murmured,
“Oh, Captain .”
As soon as those words were out of her mouth, he suddenly vanished.
“Captain?!” Carolyn sputtered.
The only response was the storm picking up outside, giving a hearty shake of thunder. Feeling very much like a child who’d done something wrong, Carolyn rose with trepidation.
She tried once more.
“...Captain, I’m sorry if I upset you, but I need to know what’s wrong…”
*
This was a great deal for the Captain to handle. His stormy heart had been closed for over a century, and to be this open with someone as brilliant as Mrs. Muir… the notion was imposing. But he was not without grit, from all his living years (and afterwards) as captain of his own vessel. That being said, it took him immeasurable strength to suppress the upset thunder pounding throughout his being. With the knowledge that she was studying him, as alive as he could appear, suppose he couldn’t live up to her modern standards? Carolyn was unlike any female he had ever met, and yet he found himself enraptured to the thought of their companionship. While he wouldn’t, and couldn’t, change his entire being for her, he would be amiss if he didn’t admit to wanting her happy. Therefore, he endured her proposition.
Until he heard the sweet murmur of his title.
Almost unconsciously, he vanished, blinking his eyes open and stumbling off of the sofa, gripping his chest. He stared wildly at Mrs. Muir, the pounding in his ears drowning out the sound of the room. She had whispered it in such tender reverence, it sent him spinning in both body and spirit.
One might call it the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Heaving breaths through his nose, the Captain’s shoulders rose and fell with unaccustomed emotion. He clutched at his sweater, lamenting the shameful expression on Carolyn’s face as her eyes searched for him. As soon as he composed himself, he could assuage her guilt. And his own.
Taking one last moment to recollect himself, Captain Gregg spoke.
“...My… apologies, Mrs. Muir. You are not at fault.”
He walked slowly, carefully, across to her, letting his footsteps be heard. Her head swiveled to the sound, face still cast in worry.
It was familiar to the Captain to gesture to the sofa, even when she couldn’t see.
“Please, sit back down,” he said.
He sat back where he was previously, watching her stance with regretful eyes.
After a moment of hesitation, she followed, but her posture did not hold the relaxation it once did.
The Captain danced around the complete truth of his emotions.
“My outburst was one out of startlement. This night was one of many firsts, and it all bombarded me rather unexpectedly… I’m afraid that the way I performed was rather unbecoming of me, heated words or no.”
If only she knew the utter depth of his feelings toward her.
But now was hardly the time.
Carolyn seemed to chew on his words, casting her gaze about their shared room. Finally, she looked back towards his direction. She never got his height right, but it was an endearing factor.
“I understand, Captain,” she said, and something in him melted. “I did put this all on you without warning.” Drawing her hands together in her lap, she looked troubled, and her gaze fell.
“I’m sorry. I suppose I was just too eager.”
“Hush, Madam,” he spoke with soft words.
“The female’s general disposition towards curiosity is often a fickle one… I harbor no ill will towards you.”
The Captain neglected to mention his own inclination towards dramatic emotions.
She smiled at him, eyes alight with emotion.
“Thank you. For showing me.”
The rain outside had slowed to a mere patter, and soon the evidence of the storm would pass.
“Of course, my dear. It had been much too long.”
He returned the smile. The thought that someday she could see it filled him with nervous warmth.
*
Later that night, as Carolyn fell to the rolling waves of sleep, her dreams were alight with strong hands holding her with care, and the gentlest of kisses marked by the scruff of a familiar facial hair. She felt the warmth of a body against hers, and although the steady beat of a heartbeat is lacking, there was a strong thrumming as she leaned her head against the chest. When she awakens, she might even remember the sight of icy blue eyes turning upwards in a smile.