Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean

Takes place in the third movie where the crew finds Jack at Davy Jones' Locker

Summary: Jack personally knows the scent of betrayal. And when she betrays him, he decides that revenge is a dish best served cold.

The woman actually had the gall to come up to him as if she never killed him and condemned him to Davy Jones' Locker in the beginning. Hate consumed his mind as he looked upon her two-faced figure and he was sure that she saw it in his eyes, for she flinched away and swerved her eyes to stare at something else. When they told him of the situation at hand, his mind whispered sweet nothings to his attentive ears.

'Kill her, kill her! Make that bitch writher in pain! Make her pay, make her paypaypaypaypay! Do it, Jack, do it!' it breathed in his ear. Jack smiled, his eyes glistened, his laugh wrinkles deepened. 'Yes. Yes, of course.' Behind his jovial and drunken façade, he plotted. 'What would make her scream with anguish? What would make her want to break, shatter, and explode into tiny little fragile pieces that he could then step on and rub a permanent stain into the ground?'

Jack plotted as he watched the crew do their daily activities. He plotted as he sat in his old room looking at the Singapore maps. Plotted while dreaming, plotted while steering the ship, plotted as he ate. Each scenario grew more and more macabre and psychologically demonic, and it gave him pleasure.

Thinking up intriguing and so-called 'crazy' ideas was right up his alley. Everyone knew that Jack Sparrow is one that does the unconventional and he lived up to those expectations. No need to disappoint them in this either. He smiled with glee, his golden teeth flashed in the candlelight. The curtains were about to rise and the audience is awaiting the newest presentation by him. He would not fail them by putting on a substandard performance. This would be one of his greatest yet.

Years later – for the best and most damaging betrayals take time to implement – when her angst-ridden and tormented eyes stared back at his dark smirking ones, she whispered before she chocked on spit that her dry and abused throat could not handle, "Why, Jack? Why?!"

"Why, you ask? Who do you think I am? After someone I trust betrays me, what do you expect me to do? Remember who you're talking to, love," he mockingly told her, his indifferent face tilted to one side as if he was truly curious for an answer. The beads in his hair clattered as they lightly banged against each other, mingling with the sounds of her heavy broken breathing and filling the otherwise silent room.

"I spent years surviving in an abandoned island, saving my one bullet for a mutinous crewmate that could have potentially made my life much easier had I used it for some other endeavours. But oh no, you see. I am a man of revenge, and I always get my revenge." He paused here to gaze at her bloody little figure that housed a traitorous soul. "Always."

Jack strolled towards a chair and plopped down on it. He took a swig of rum from the bottle in his hand, crossed his legs and lazed in the chair for a while, as if contemplating why the sky was blue. Taking a deep breath, he began again, "Well, my beauteous and ever so cunning lady, here's what I'm going to do with you. I'm going to make you want to slit your own throat everyday as the sun set, but you'll never be able to. Wanting to end your own life and be ferried to the other side under the care of Davy Jones, but unable to will just shatter your little burnt and blackened soul."

Here, Jack paused his little quaint monologue to twirl the braided hair on his chin and glanced at the woman's body from the corner of his stone eyes and began once more, "Count on it. It will be your own personal hell on earth. Think of me as your demon then, if it'll make you feel better, for you will curse the day that you came to take me from Davy Jones' Locker. You'll spend each day thinking that you should have left me to die a watery death."

A wicked gleam filled his darkness sucking eyes and his face seemed like a never-ending spiral of madness, an abyss that was all consuming. "Welcome to hell, Elizabeth, love. Enjoy it, for it'll never end."

Did this a while back after I finished up the third movie. I've always never really taken up a shine to Elizabeth, but after the second and third movie, I found her personality to be one that I find distasteful

I think I wanted to actually create a miniseries from this, but then I got too lazy and just never did. Anyways, since I haven't posted anything new or updated, I figured that I should at least post this up, just to show that I'm still active.

Anyhow, please, as always, read and review and tell me what you think.