Clarity

~ Chapter 10 ~

Emma sighed as we left the shop, a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
"Emma," I whispered, trying to break the heavy silence. She sighed again, but this time it was heartbreaking. A tear rolled down her cheek as she pulled up to the forest edge.
"Can we take a walk?" She questioned me, her eyes pleading with me, silently begging for confirmation, recognition. I felt nothing, but nodded.
"What do you remember?" She questioned as leaves crumpled underfoot. The crisp air added a chill to me, but I could feel myself heating up. It felt like I had a miniature sun living inside my stomach.
"I've seen pieces of memories when something emotional or important happens," I answered. We entered a clearing with a well in the center, and she pulled her coat tighter around her. The air smelled dead, musty, and I was trying not to gag. Sea air was much, much cleaner than this.
"Important?" She questioned, egging me on.
"When we pass a place where something happened, or when I see your face, or once," I stuttered, not wanting to continue. I had experienced a very...vivid dream regarding Emma and was not quite sure if it was a dream or my sick imagination. If it was reality, Emma should be blushing a lot more by now.
"Not important," I cut off, sitting down on a stone bench. Emma sighed again, and rubbed the engraving on the well.
"Come here," she commanded, turning to face me once again. I chose not to test her and let my interest take over.
"Look down the well," she stated, shrugging. I peered down into the abyss, not seeing anything.
"What do you see?" She asked quietly, her hand on my shoulder.
"Nothing," I answered honestly, unsure of what she was getting at.
"As I expected."
She uncrumpled the paper, reading the messy scrawls covering the page. Her eyes watered as she crumpled it again.
"We have to leave," she murmured.
"Why?" I questioned, peering once again in the well. At the bottom, a faint red light was growing.
"Because you didn't see down the well, the wish didn't work," she stated miserably, slipping back into the buggy. A spark of electricity jumped from her fingertips, and she scooted back, shocked (literally).
"Are you hurt?" I questioned, carefully examining her. I might be a pirate, but when a lady was hurt in my presence, it was my duty to take care of her.
"I'm fine," she stated, closing her door,"it's just my magic acting up."
Emma was magical? Here I was just assuming that she was normal. My face dropped noticeably, and Emma blushed.
"Sorry," she murmured, turning the keys in the little slot, making the box purr.
"It's alright love, I'm just surprised is all."
As soon as I called her love, her face lit up, but fell soon again after.
"Let's go home."

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That night, as I lay in bed, I thought of Emma on the couch. Was she okay? Did she need a blanket? Why in hell was I forcing her to sleep on the couch when she could be sleeping in her own bed. I stepped lightly into the floor, easing the creaky door open. The living room glowed a pale white from the light of the moon in window. I tried to be quiet, making sure Emma didn't stir. I approached the couch slowly, thinking over this rash decision. I was a pirate, women were plunder, not treasure. I tried to convince myself of that as I wrapped my arms around the woman's sleeping body and brushed her hair out of her eyes, carrying her like a child into the bedroom. Her body crackled with light as I brushed her stomach, and I placed my hand on her, feeling the Sparks under my fingers. All of a sudden, I could see her dreaming, of long walks and high places and music and candlelight and love. I lasted beside her, peering into her magical world, trying to glimpse what she saw. The scene darkened, and black and red covered her mind, a thick blanket of wicked strewn in her mind. Her heart started to race and I woke her, pretending I was asleep. She appeared confused, but her heart rate slowed and she tucked her body back into mine. I was quietly amazed at how our bodies connected, fitting perfectly like a puzzle piece. I wrapped my hands loosely in her hair and held her waist with my stump. Yes, extremely unromantic, but sleeping with a hook hurt, and usually one ended up brutally injured. I pulled her closer and dozed off.