Disclaimer: I own neither of these characters, they both belong to Jim Henson and company. They are only playing, and will be returned in working order. I mean no infringement, this is not for profit, please keep my name and e-mail address attached if distributing (though I can not imagine why you would.....) Author's notes: Short much needed distraction from work resulted in this, just decided to finish it. It's short, quick, unpolished and relatively straight forward I think. Please let me know if I am wrong on any of those counts.......and how/if/why you liked/hated/tolerated it :)
Title: Precious Waking Moments
Author: Bellemaine Chercoeur
E-mail: [email protected]
Category: Short Scene/Vignette
Summary: The Dreams we try to capture when we wake...
As the wind battered against the window panes, Sarah snuggled deeper into her quilt, attempting to ignore the howling wind and reclaim her sleeping state. The strength of the wind had woken her, pulling her from a heavy sleep, and a most pleasant dream. One that she couldn't quite remember. She had clutched frantically at the last tendrils as she regained consciousness, trying to keep hold of just one thread, even an image, but they had evaporated as easily as a puddle on a warm day.
Burying her head in the pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to remember. Anything. A feeling, an image, a scene, an idea. Anything that could jog her memory, that could be the key that would allow the memory to live, to let images flow one after the other. Yes. She remembered...warmth. Not heat, not humidity...but warmth. A smile. Someone had smiled at her, and she had felt warm inside. But who? Who had smiled at her?
She struggled to remember. She had looked up, and they had smiled at her. Had she smiled back? Yes. She had. They smiled at each other. Then what? She had reached out a hand, and had watched the light catch in the tiny crystal beads that edged her sleeve and ran over the backs of her silk gloves. They were lovely, gleaming, reflecting the light. Beaded crystals? Why would she have been wearing them?
It didn't matter. She had been wearing them. She had stretched out her hand, and felt the jolt of recognition pass along her arm as his fingers had closed over hers, the soft leather of his gloves warm to touch. Gently, he pulled her into his embrace, sliding an arm around her waist. Holding her close. She had looked up, her eyes glowing. And his smile had widened, catching the look of tenderness in her eyes. He released her hand, raising his own to cup her cheek. Startled, she clutched at his collar, her thumb brushing the smooth skin of his neck.
She could feel the warmth of his skin through her gloves. His hand slid over her cheek, his fingers burrowing into her thick hair, pushing it back from her face. His mouth firmed into a grave expression. Watching.
He was waiting for something. He had stood there. Still, waiting, steady. Her hand had moved from his collar to his cheek, mimicking his actions of a few moments earlier. The paleness of his hair had rivalled that of her dove white glove. Yet, she hadn't touched his hair. Held tenderly in his embrace, his own fingers laced into her hair, she had gently stroked her fingertips over his lips, and his eyes had shone. With hope? With joy? She was not sure, but they had lit with some strong emotion.
Different. She had done something differently. Yes. She was not sure how, but somehow, some way, she knew that she had acted differently in the past. Usually, it ended differently. She touched his hair, feeling it move smoothly under her gloves, silk on silk. Yet this time she had touched his mouth. And he had smiled, his lips curving beneath her fingers.
Startled, unsure, a little scared, she had dropped her gaze and hidden her face against his shoulder. Silently, he had placed a finger beneath her chin, and turned her face towards him. His eyes burned, searching, seeking the truth. Satisfied at last. He had found his answer. His hand cupped her chin, cradling her face. As his thumb caressed her jawline, he leaned towards her, a curious mixture of hope, happiness and disbelief crossing his beautiful elfin features. His lips pressed softly against her forehead, and she felt the tingle pass down her spine as a smile arched her own lips. Momentarily, his arm tightened desperately around her, before he leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek as he whispered, "Remember."
She nodded, her eyes questioning, her own voice hushed as she replied, "Yes."
His expression cleared, hope flared in his eyes, burning bright, his voice tender as he said, "Precious." Her hand slid around his neck as she leaned forward to receive his kiss, his lips warm against her own.
Revelling in the feel of his lips against hers, she edged closer. The sudden harsh light shocked her, it's brilliance surprising and disorienting her. She felt his lips torn from hers and reached for him frantically, her hands encountering nothing but air. Yet, even as she sought him, his voice enveloped her, his tone pleading, "Remember."
She sat up, her hair tumbling about her shoulders, her breath uneven. She opened her eyes, the silhouettes of her possessions in her room familiar and comforting. She remembered. As he had asked. Finally. After all this time, all these years.
She did dream. The same dream, night after night, and always lost on waking. Not matter how hard she tried, the dream vanished into the mists of consciousness. Not tonight. Now, she remembered.
Running her hands through her dark hair, smoothing it back over her shoulders, she recalled the hopeful expression on his face, the guarded joy in his eyes. She pressed a finger against her lips, and closed her eyes. She remembered. It was true. All of it. The forgotten dream, the half remembered feelings that surfaced at odd times, remnants of her dreams trying to escape, to claim her attention. Finally, at last.
She settled herself back against the pillows, seeking a comfortable position, drawing the covers up beneath her chin. He would come to her in dreams, speaking to her the only way he could, the only way she could listen. He had come to her, now she would go to him. For so long, he had tried and she had forgotten. Now it was different, finally she remembered, finally she would enter the dream knowing what she was seeking, knowing what she would find. Only now could the dream end differently, only now would the ending be happy. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the lashes sweeping over her brilliant dark eyes to rest gently on her flawless skin. Her mouth curved gently, she felt the hope rise within her as she slid over the abyss into sleep and his name slipped tenderly from her lips. "Jareth. I remember."
His arms wrapped around her, clasping her close to him, never willing to let go. His own tone joyful, his expression exultant, he answered, "My own precious Sarah. At last."
Finish.
Title: Precious Waking Moments
Author: Bellemaine Chercoeur
E-mail: [email protected]
Category: Short Scene/Vignette
Summary: The Dreams we try to capture when we wake...
As the wind battered against the window panes, Sarah snuggled deeper into her quilt, attempting to ignore the howling wind and reclaim her sleeping state. The strength of the wind had woken her, pulling her from a heavy sleep, and a most pleasant dream. One that she couldn't quite remember. She had clutched frantically at the last tendrils as she regained consciousness, trying to keep hold of just one thread, even an image, but they had evaporated as easily as a puddle on a warm day.
Burying her head in the pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to remember. Anything. A feeling, an image, a scene, an idea. Anything that could jog her memory, that could be the key that would allow the memory to live, to let images flow one after the other. Yes. She remembered...warmth. Not heat, not humidity...but warmth. A smile. Someone had smiled at her, and she had felt warm inside. But who? Who had smiled at her?
She struggled to remember. She had looked up, and they had smiled at her. Had she smiled back? Yes. She had. They smiled at each other. Then what? She had reached out a hand, and had watched the light catch in the tiny crystal beads that edged her sleeve and ran over the backs of her silk gloves. They were lovely, gleaming, reflecting the light. Beaded crystals? Why would she have been wearing them?
It didn't matter. She had been wearing them. She had stretched out her hand, and felt the jolt of recognition pass along her arm as his fingers had closed over hers, the soft leather of his gloves warm to touch. Gently, he pulled her into his embrace, sliding an arm around her waist. Holding her close. She had looked up, her eyes glowing. And his smile had widened, catching the look of tenderness in her eyes. He released her hand, raising his own to cup her cheek. Startled, she clutched at his collar, her thumb brushing the smooth skin of his neck.
She could feel the warmth of his skin through her gloves. His hand slid over her cheek, his fingers burrowing into her thick hair, pushing it back from her face. His mouth firmed into a grave expression. Watching.
He was waiting for something. He had stood there. Still, waiting, steady. Her hand had moved from his collar to his cheek, mimicking his actions of a few moments earlier. The paleness of his hair had rivalled that of her dove white glove. Yet, she hadn't touched his hair. Held tenderly in his embrace, his own fingers laced into her hair, she had gently stroked her fingertips over his lips, and his eyes had shone. With hope? With joy? She was not sure, but they had lit with some strong emotion.
Different. She had done something differently. Yes. She was not sure how, but somehow, some way, she knew that she had acted differently in the past. Usually, it ended differently. She touched his hair, feeling it move smoothly under her gloves, silk on silk. Yet this time she had touched his mouth. And he had smiled, his lips curving beneath her fingers.
Startled, unsure, a little scared, she had dropped her gaze and hidden her face against his shoulder. Silently, he had placed a finger beneath her chin, and turned her face towards him. His eyes burned, searching, seeking the truth. Satisfied at last. He had found his answer. His hand cupped her chin, cradling her face. As his thumb caressed her jawline, he leaned towards her, a curious mixture of hope, happiness and disbelief crossing his beautiful elfin features. His lips pressed softly against her forehead, and she felt the tingle pass down her spine as a smile arched her own lips. Momentarily, his arm tightened desperately around her, before he leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek as he whispered, "Remember."
She nodded, her eyes questioning, her own voice hushed as she replied, "Yes."
His expression cleared, hope flared in his eyes, burning bright, his voice tender as he said, "Precious." Her hand slid around his neck as she leaned forward to receive his kiss, his lips warm against her own.
Revelling in the feel of his lips against hers, she edged closer. The sudden harsh light shocked her, it's brilliance surprising and disorienting her. She felt his lips torn from hers and reached for him frantically, her hands encountering nothing but air. Yet, even as she sought him, his voice enveloped her, his tone pleading, "Remember."
She sat up, her hair tumbling about her shoulders, her breath uneven. She opened her eyes, the silhouettes of her possessions in her room familiar and comforting. She remembered. As he had asked. Finally. After all this time, all these years.
She did dream. The same dream, night after night, and always lost on waking. Not matter how hard she tried, the dream vanished into the mists of consciousness. Not tonight. Now, she remembered.
Running her hands through her dark hair, smoothing it back over her shoulders, she recalled the hopeful expression on his face, the guarded joy in his eyes. She pressed a finger against her lips, and closed her eyes. She remembered. It was true. All of it. The forgotten dream, the half remembered feelings that surfaced at odd times, remnants of her dreams trying to escape, to claim her attention. Finally, at last.
She settled herself back against the pillows, seeking a comfortable position, drawing the covers up beneath her chin. He would come to her in dreams, speaking to her the only way he could, the only way she could listen. He had come to her, now she would go to him. For so long, he had tried and she had forgotten. Now it was different, finally she remembered, finally she would enter the dream knowing what she was seeking, knowing what she would find. Only now could the dream end differently, only now would the ending be happy. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the lashes sweeping over her brilliant dark eyes to rest gently on her flawless skin. Her mouth curved gently, she felt the hope rise within her as she slid over the abyss into sleep and his name slipped tenderly from her lips. "Jareth. I remember."
His arms wrapped around her, clasping her close to him, never willing to let go. His own tone joyful, his expression exultant, he answered, "My own precious Sarah. At last."
Finish.