Here is a collection of one-shots, randomly updated when I feel like updating. Some will be happy, some sad, some funny, some stupid, some... just sort of there. Whee!
Thankies to my beta, yellow-lily!
Disclaimer: Nothing. I own nothing.
Summary: This takes place in the cave. Barbossa aims at Elizabeth, Jack aims at him, etc, that part.
Elizabeth was quite startled to be suddenly confronted by the barrel of a gun. Startled and terrified out of her mind. And one must add that her thoughts were not those romantic last thoughts that a heroine should have. Rather, she was wondering pitifully why this was happening to her.
Will stood above the chest, the gold clutched in his hands. This was a crucial part; he must play it correctly, and do nothing stupid. The young man swallowed, and his thoughts were more noble than Elizabeth's. He was, of course, fearing for her life. Did he ever fear for anything else?
Jack, for his part, whipped out his gun, aimed at Barbossa, and fired a perfectly aimed shot.
Barbossa sneered at his former captain. "For ten years you carry that pistol, and now you waste your shot." He flung open his arms, as if to say "Shoot me again, fool."
"He didn't waste it!" Will cried from where he stood, and released the medallions. Almost simltaneously, so much in sync that one would think the two had rehearsed, Barbossa whipped about and fired.
Barbossa's death was something Jack had longed for, but he instantly forgot his foe. Elizabeth's scream tore through the dank air, and she surged forward, towards the fallen man. Jack followed close behind, his eyes widening at the sight of his friend on the ground, blood pouring from his skull, mingling with his wavy hair.
"Will, Will, please!" Elizabeth shook the blacksmith's arm fiercely, desperately, as though such actions would revive him. But he lay still, and he was cold.
Such an end did not seem fitting to the young woman. All the stories she'd read in which the hero died, well, he made a great speech before finally lying still. But Will, her Will, he'd died without a word. No, that was silly, he wasn't her Will. He was a dream.
Jack lay a hand on her shoulder, massaging it gently. "'lizabeth?" he murmured, unable to look down at poor Will. "We'd... we'd best go." The words caught in his throat. Captain Jack Sparrow never cried, but he did grieve.
Elizabeth tore away from his grasp, sobbing quietly as she gathered Will into her arms. He fell back limply, onto the stones, the dead weight too much for her to support. That made sense, she supposed.
After all, you can't put your arms around a dream.
-fin-