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Lizzie sat up suddenly.
Icy water streamed down her skin and her lungs seized- both from the shock of the freezing water, and lack of air. Coughing and gasping for breath, Lizzie leaned over, her braids hanging around her face, dripping. Water soaked her clothing, causing it to cling to her skin, and the sound of her own splashing reverberated through the cavernous space.
Darkness surrounded her completely, making it impossible to see even the shallow water she woke up in. The absence of light unnerved her, sending chills up her spine. Chilly air only served to worsen the goosebumps, spreading them down her arms and forcing the fine hair there to stand up. Only perceptible by the hair standing on end, a faint, barely-there breeze tickled against her skin.
Wiping the water from her face, she tried to remember how she got here. Or where here even was.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed back at her, leaving her in silence once again. The darkness seemed somehow more suffocating, threatening to press in and become claustrophobic. The space was somehow simultaneously too cavernous and too cramped at the same time. Without seeing the boundary of existence in this place, a small mammalian instinct kicked up in the back of her head.
“Elizabeth?” She spun suddenly, sitting on her ankles as the water splashed around her, threatening to drown out the sound of a familiar voice. She kneeled in the water, searching for the voice. The chill soaked into her knees, creeping up the skin of her thighs and making her bones ache.
“Chip?” Lizzie called out, something desperate clawing at her chest. She hadn't heard that name- heard that voice- in years. “Chip, where are you?” The thought of the boy being alive, and here, sent something painful through her heart. She wanted so badly for the boy to be okay after all this time. Hope clutched her almost painfully, squeezing her ribcage with the force of a decade of longing.
“Elizabeth~” Came again, though this time it sounded like more of a song than just her name. It was said with a teasing, lilting tone- the same way the younger boy would call for her when he had something to gloat about. A gleeful edge in the tone unnerved her.
For some reason, it made her uneasy.
Standing cautiously, she turned slowly, trying to force her eyes to adjust in the pitch black. Her feet dragged in the water, and she still couldn't see anything. Something was wrong.
“Oh, Elizabeth.” It hit her then, that the voice was still so young. The voice of a 9 year old. A 9 year old that died a long time ago, she remembered. “You left me.”
The painful feeling in her chest grew ever deeper as the words rang in the air. It felt almost like she was choking on her own lungs for a moment, her chest constricting around her lungs. “Chip, where are you?” Voice cracking painfully under the force of her own ribs, she knew something was wrong. Chip would have been 19 by now.
No one responded.
She took a careful step forward. And then another. She ran towards the sound of the voice, splashing as she fought the ankle deep water. The words had stopped echoing around her, and she was met suddenly with a very hard, very immovable wall. Pain exploded across her body as the force sent her back the way she came. The world tilted as she hit the floor. Water splashed back into her face as she braced herself on her forearms, the rippling water rising to her bicep. Shoulders aching under the sudden abuse, she sputtered.
“Did you forget how to walk, silly?” Lizzie’s head snapped up at the sound of her mother-in-all-but-blood’s voice. “You’re too young to be practicing for a peg leg now, Eizabeth.” Chey laughed.
“Chey…” Lizzie whispered. She knew now that something was wrong. She’d watched the woman die. Lizzie, alone, had cradled the woman that raised her as she sucked in her last breath. But the paranoia shoved itself aside as she looked for her mother figure.
A small and desperate thing beat against the ribs in her chest, clawing at its cage and screaming for a hug from her mother, or her little brother, or-
“Lizzie-?” The nickname sounded like a laugh, bright and airy. That laugh, so light and familiar, tore through her. It sent a fresh wave of agony crashing over her. Lizzie’s knees buckled under her own weight before she’d even managed to stand up fully. Her bones ached from the cold, and her muscles screamed. She had never expected to hear that voice again, the voice of Ava.
Ava.
Ava laughed again, quieter. “Lizzie, what are you doing? Lizzie, my love-“ the words were silenced in an instant as the sound of a gunshot rang in Lizzie’s ears.
She couldn't stop the scream that bubbled up from her chest, ripping through her with the force of the hole that swallowed her family and the gun that took her love. Her arms spread wide, the pain of grief manifested itself in the feeling of a bullet through her chest, pulling her ribs skyward as she kneeled in the cold water.
And then she was sitting up again, her heart pounding in her chest and her ears still ringing from the painful sound of the gun that silenced Ava’s life. Her breathing was ragged, and it was still dark, but she could faintly see the glow of the moon through her window outlining her bed. The water was gone, too. Residual warmth from her blankets clung to the skin of her arms.
The familiar captain’s quarters greeted her. Her terrified heart settled in her chest, slowing after the weight of her dream.
Slouching in her bed, she put her head in her hands. Blankets were tangled around her legs, and the sound of the ocean calmed her further.
It wasn’t real.
It was just a dream. They were gone-
“Lizzie?”
She flinched as she heard the voice and she could feel the muscles of her face contort into a painful expression. “No, no, no,-“ she whispered under her breath without intention. The sound of her name repeated itself in her head, so full of concern and love.
Love. Love.love.lov e .
“Lizzie, love- did you have a nightmare?”
Arms beginning to shake, Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut and slapped her hands over her ears. Oh, how she loved that voice.
Oh, how she didn’t want to hear it.
Oh, but she did.
Then, there was a hand on her back. It was warm, and she knew the skin of it well. She remembered that hand easily, how it had held her gently, how it had held a gun to her.
Damned as Lizzie was, it comforted her. The soothing presence of a love that couldn’t touch her. The soothing presence of a lie, a nightmare. Because, with her eyes closed, she could pretend it was real and that Ava was still alive.
The hand slipped around her, turning into arms that wrapped around her, holding her as tightly as they always had. As they always will, Lizzie convinced herself. She felt a piece of herself wash away like sand in the ocean, allowing itself to slip away under the gentle guidance of a loving embrace. The fear, she supposed. A nonessential piece of herself to lose. It was easier like this, to lean into Ava.
Ava’s voice was soft against her ears, whispering sweet, comforting words, “It’s ok, it was just a dream, my love.”
All at once, Lizzie broke. A tension in her chest unwinding itself in the matter of an instant. She turned into Ava’s embrace, sobbing into her chest. Ava was warm, and real, and Lizzie was too weak to refuse her. Ava had always been her weakness, after all. The one thing she couldn’t protect herself from.
After Chey died, nothing had the power to hurt her until Ava cut through all of Lizzie’s defenses as if they’d been nothing more than paper. Never had she been strong against Ava. Her weakness, the gap in her armor, the fragility of her soul. It was a power that terrified Lizzie, if she was honest. Or it would have, had she not trusted Ava with her entire soul.
Ava held her as she sobbed, gently stroking her hair and speaking softly. Lizzie clung to her in a way that she hadn't clung to anyone in a long time. She didn’t let herself indulge in these sorts of comforts often. Chey wasn’t a physically affectionate woman, and she simply didn’t have time with Ava. They didn’t see each other often enough to afford soft, slow love like this.
Lizzie didn’t cuddle with people.
But, it was comfortable here, with Ava. The gentle rocking of the ship was practically white noise to Lizzie in such a comforting way that she didn't know how to describe it. And Ava's presence was a comfort she couldn't remember having in years.
Years?
Wait where had Ava been?
Ava’s been here this whole time. She'd always been by Lizzie’s side when the lights turned out and everyone went to sleep. They’d sneak out to taverns or forest clearings and dance in the moonlight or drink until their words were slurred and the only coherent thought was the one urging them closer, urging them to kiss, to become one.
Lizzie loved those nights. Nights like these, locked in Ava’s arms with such serenity. They were the best sort of nights, those spent with the love of her life. They were the sort that made all other nights fade to the background.
Lizzie loved Caspian, and she had fun most nights, but no night was as enjoyable as those with Ava.
Ava.
Ava wrapped her arms around Lizzie tighter as her crying slowed. The movement was slow and the pressure made Lizzie’s muscles relax.
The soft and quiet words that Ava had been whispering stopped, and Lizzie mourned the loss of them. It didn't break the moment though, still soft and warm. What Lizzie wouldn't give to have these moments back. She’d need to remember this in every detail to recall later when Ava left again.
Left?
Ava hadn’t left. She couldn’t have. She was here. She was real, and-
And she was going to leave again. Just as everyone else had. She would leave Lizzie to the darkness once more. And the emptiness would come surging back in. Lizzie’s heart quickened.
No, Ava couldn't leave. Not again. Please not again.
Lizzie would give anything for her to stay.
An image of blood flashed before her eyes, shining in sunlight and coating skin and rocks and hair. She’d forgotten about it, the sickening image.
She flinched, shoving Ava away accidentally.
Ava’s eyes were widened, her expression shocked and confused and oh, so worried. The expression made Lizzie's stomach violently flip. Nausea slammed into her and made her throat close. Her stomach squeezed as the familiarity of the expression worsened.
Such sickening familiarity of the day she’d lost the other.
The image of betrayal written into Ava’s expression. Because it was Lizzie that kneeled over her, but a navy bullet lodged between her ribs. Shot from the gun of the bastards that had betrayed her.
The memories came screaming back, the awful, unending grief of losing life’s most important love.
Blood dripped from Ava’s lips, but she didn't seem to notice. No longer did she lay beneath Lizzie on the rocky shore, instead, she was back sitting on Lizzie’s bed.
The two realities were growing difficult to keep separated.
“Ava…” Lizzie whispered, her horror mounting as more blood dripped from Ava’s mouth, staining her shirt as it fell.
Ava’s hands rested on Lizzie’s arms, and she realized with surprise that the fingers clutching her skin were ice cold. Cold, like a corpse’s fingers. Like Ava’s fingers when she-
No.
When she looked back up at Ava, her eyes had lost their light and blood spread from her abdomen, soaking into her naval uniform.
When had she put that on? Only a moment ago, she was wearing a nightgown-? But they were still in bed-
Ava’s hair was a mess. Half-pulled up into a bun that looked as if someone had tried tearing it out. Most of the curls were now matted, and Ava’s skin had grown pale.
Corpse pale. Corpse pale like when-
Stop.
Her expression had faded into a lifeless thing, and Lizzie felt a scream bubble in the back of her throat. She yanked her arms away, trying to free them from Ava’s grasp.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and her nails morphed into long, jagged things. They cut into the skin of Lizzies arms and she hissed as blood began to pool under them. The skin of Ava’s mouth began to rot away, revealing cavity ridden teeth that had once been perfect, pearly white.
The smell of death, of blood, of rot, and gunpowder filled the air.
Lizzie pushed herself away, the skin of her arms tearing under the pressure and sharpness of the claw-like hands that threatened to trap her in their death grip. The blankets tangled in her legs slowed her. She lost balance, and hit the floorboards painfully, the breath knocked out of her lungs. Her eyes squeezed themselves closed as she rasped painfully, fighting against her own lungs to continue breathing.
Something seeped through the planks under her, and when she sat up for the third time, her eyes were assaulted by light.
She wore the same ratty dress from the shipwreck ten years ago. The one she’d torn to shreds trying to stop Chey’s bleeding that night. The poor thing was bloodstained and a ghost of what it had been when she’d begged Arlin to get it for her. It stained more and more red as the small raft she sat on became waterlogged.
Looking out across the horizon, Lizzie realized with mounting horror that the ocean wasn’t blue. It wasn’t even black from the hole in the sea.
No, it was red. Bloodsoaked, staining her dress and her skin and matting her hair.
Where did everyone go?
God, she missed Ava.
The real Ava, not the one who’d ripped open the skin on her arms and rotted away before her eyes. The one that was supposed to run away with her. Just a few more months, they’d said, just a few more months to get the navy off her back. And then they could pack up and leave. They were going to find a small corner of the world to start new. A little house on a cliff near the sea. A garden for Ava to tend to, to remind her of her mother. A little rowboat for the two of them to fish off of. A place to forget every bad thing, and every death the two of them had witnessed throughout their lifetimes.
That life was dead now, and Lizzie hated thinking about it. Hated thinking about how she’d never get to braid flowers into her love’s hair, or find someone to marry the two of them on a private area of the beach. She’d never get to make breakfast for her wife.
As she looked out across the bloody ocean, she felt tears begin to stream down her face. Oh, how she'd wanted that life. She would have given up everything for Ava, truly. To have Ava forever. As long as it was the two of them, near the ocean, she would have been content.
Never would she have forgotten her years of being a pirate, of all that she lost then. Chey, Chip, and everyone else on the Black Rose. Even Shadowbeard’s crew. She never would have forgotten, but she would have left everything, just as Ava would have. When they’d first talked about it, she’d felt worse for Ava. She had a family to go back to. Her dad was awful, of course, but he lived and loved her. Lizzie’s family was long since dead, both the ones that birthed her and the ones that raised her.
But Ava had a little sister, and a mother, who both loved Ava as much as Lizzie did.
Sometimes she envied Ava for the family that she still had. She tried not to, though. She wouldn’t have traded the years with Chey and the Black Rose for anything.
It was a little ironic, Lizzie thought bitterly, how she felt bad about the prospect of taking Ava away from her family, and yet now no one could have her.
Lizzie didn't know if her heart would ever know how to handle it. How to handle the idea of never waking up next to Ava ever again.
She supposed that's what all this was. The voices in a pitch dark room, and then waking up next to Ava in a cruel imitation of what once was. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to fall for the illusion that her own psyche conjured. She’d believed every part of it, too, her own mind forcing her to forget how Ava had died, only to be violently thrown back into the reality of Ava's death.
Nightmares like these were- well, not common. Especially not quite as real-feeling as this, but she had nightmares about Ava frequently.
When she woke up from this, Caspian would be there with a cup of tea. She didn’t like tea much, but it was comforting nonetheless. And it seemed to appease Caspian, so she humored him.
A wave made her stomach roll as more bloody water splashed over her.
Something floated a few feet away, making Lizzie squeeze her eyes closed. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
She didn’t open her eyes until she felt whatever it was bump against the small raft she floated on. Peeking an eye open, her stomach lurched once again as Chey’s blank, lifeless face stared up at her. The twisted visage was half rotted, a gut-wrenching image of viscera and decaying skin.
She flinched hard enough that the raft lost balance and she hit the water with a splash.
The shock of the frigid water made Lizzie’s heart stutter.
She couldn’t see the surface, only a distant, barely there, red tinted light source. She didn't know how she'd managed to end up that far under the waves. The red filtered light made her nauseous. As if she hadn’t already been at the sight of Chey’s body.
She wanted this to end.
Nightmares never ended with ease. So, she screamed. All of the pain she’d ever felt ripped out of her chest, manifesting is a furious swirl of bubbles surrounding her. She curled up into a ball with all the strength in her body and screamed until all of the air in her lungs was rushing towards the surface of the ocean. The pressure of the water grew infinitely.
Her lungs spasmed, both begging for air and refusing to let water enter her body. Faster, she sank, the pressure of the ocean pushing her below the depths far quicker than possible in the waking world. Kicking pitifully, she tried to force herself back to the surface, the instinct to survive taking over her brain and fighting against the dream. Her muscles tired quickly, and her vision became clouded from lack of oxygen.
A pop reverberated through her body as she sank, keeping her on the fringes of consciousness. Her own bones cracking in on themselves under the rapid growth of pressure. She could keep her eyes squeezing against her skull, and in an instant-
She sat up.
Sucking fresh air greedily into her lungs, she could smell the familiar scent of candle smoke. She remembered blowing out the candles just before falling asleep.
Surely, this meant… ?
She could faintly see the glow of the moon through her window outlining her bed, the familiar captain’s quarters greeted her. Blankets were tangled around her legs, and the sound of the ocean lapped against the wood of her ship.
“Lizzie, love- did you have a nightmare?”
Lizzie felt like she was going to throw up.
This time, though, the voice came from the tiniest crack in her doorway. The eloquent accent couldn’t be mistaken for anyone’s but Caspian’s.
Still, she sucked a shaky breath through her mouth and reached for the sword that hung at her bedside. “Tell me you’re real,” she whispered. And then, louder, “Tell me something I have no business knowing. Tell me something my own imagination couldn’t possibly come up with.” Growling, she pushed herself out of bed, almost snakelike in the way the sheets and blankets moved around her.
Pointing her sword towards the door, she watched it open slowly, Caspian’s worried expression peering at her. “My Lady?” He trailed off, watching her cautiously. “What happened?”
“Prove to me that this isn’t a damn nightmare, Caspian,” She growled. The menace that filled her voice made her first mate flinch. The movement sent a pang of guilt through her heart. Caspian was typically far too reserved to allow something like that to bother him.
Taking a breath, Caspian nodded once. Without hesitation, he said, “I’ve never been fond of Earl Grey Tea. I just really don’t care for bergamot.” He cocked an eyebrow, a silent question. Enough? It asked.
With a sigh, Lizzie set her sword back on its hanger. Dropping back onto her bed, she held her head in her hands. “You and your tea.” Such a simple thing to use as convincing evidence, and yet perfect. Too casual to be something dreamt by her twisted imagination.
Caspian smiled as he entered the room, taking care to close the door enough that it wouldn’t swing with the waves. “You know I prefer the alcohol of the undersea."
Smiling softly, Lizzie nodded. Her muscles began to unwind themselves, the tension dissipating in the presence of the other. The nightmare left her… spooked. But the hair on her arms finally settled, and the fear melted into something far more melancholy.
“I miss Ava,” she said plainly.
Nodding and he sat next to her, Caspian peered across the distance between them. “I know, My Lady. I do, too.”
The two had never been close, but there was something comforting in the fact that Lizzie didn’t carry the burden of grief alone. Ava and Caspian had met seldom, and by accident. He hadn’t minded much, and promised to protect their secret.
Sucking in a breath, Lizzie let the memories of her love fade, and she smiled weakly at Caspian. “We should go back to bed. We have a tournament to prepare for.”
With a nod, Caspian rose. Something knowing glinted in his eye, his expression neutral. He said nothing about the conversation, instead opting to bid her a goodnight and leave her to her quarters.
Crawling into bed, Lizzie fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.