Her footsteps had echoed ominously as she made her way through the house and into the living room. The room's dark blue wallpaper was peeling and the dead flowers on the side table did little to cheer the room up. Elizabeth rested a candle greatly disturbing the dust caking the wood. She frowned and lowered herself into a chair, ignoring the abnormal amount of dust that swirled about and the spider webs barely pressing against her skin and sending an unwelcome chill running up her spine. This room no longer comforted her.

Elizabeth had not expected the house to be so worn when she finally returned. The death of her father still tore into her as painfully as it had that first second of realization. . . but it was only this day that she had finally had the courage to return home. The word 'home' caused the room to blur slightly and made her cringe. This was only a house now. . . those who had made it anything more had long left this cruel world. . .

Wishing for a distraction--anything to keep her mind away from her father's death she cast a red eye toward the dying candle vaguely wondering how many seconds she would know until she too left this house and world forever. She wanted to laugh. Thinking of death so soon? She had time... But that thought was not a happy one... She was also alone. She rested her head against her palm and willed a deep sleep to come and claim her. . . But sleep refused to ease her pain that night and left her only dazed and barely conscious as she forced her eyes to stay closed. It soon became apparent that sleep wasn't coming and she opened her eyes to see two flames fighting for life in the darkening room. She sat up. Seconds later her gaze rested on a shadowy figure on the far side of the room. The candle on the table had melted considerably. . . She could make out no features... but the gun in his hand reflected the twin flames quite nicely.

The man (she could tell that much in the poor light) said nothing and gave no indication that he was going to come closer. Even so, she only dared to avert her gaze from him for a few seconds before noticing two very discouraging things. The first thing being that her chair was secluded and the nearest thing that would be of any use in this situation (which happened to be a heavily gilded candlestick.) was too far away for her to reach in time without her diving for it. . . and likely getting shot in the process. The realization of the second thing came quickly and greatly overshadowed the first. . . So much so that she winced at the dramatic irony of it. Even if she did manage to grab the candle stick she doubted it would do any good. . . It was not the unwelcome face of a familiar foe that came into focus . . . But that of the only man she had remorselessly murdered. . .

Elizabeth rose to her feet slowly. Her face remaining passive but her eyes had widened in fear. She hated the feeling. Hated it what it did to most people... But she admired the few who did well and were strong in spite of it... But dead was dead no matter how magnificantly one went.

She stepped toward the candle as he came forward. He made no move to stop as she continued to the table. She felt felt the gild-work cut into her skin as her fingers clenched around the candlestick in a vice like grip. But like she had feared it did little good and she was vaguely aware of the clunk it made on the floor as Jack closed the space between them alarmingly fast and shoved her against the wall, the muzzle of the gun pressed hard into her neck and forcing her head up. Inches from his face.

He cocked the gun and the click echoed in the room. His eyes were hard... made more so by the dark khol smeared thickly around them. She darkly noted the determined look he had set his features into. He was not smiling nor did he look as though he wished to say anything. But that was fine with her. She knew that if she opened her mouth right now it would likely result in him being even angrier. The cool metal of the gun rested against her forehead. They stood there like that-- Elizabeth trapped against the wall and Jack looking dangerously calm-- for a least a full minute before the silence finally shattered.

"Don't do this Jack." She said. If she was scared she was doing a marvelous job hiding it from him just then.

He tilted his head slightly. "Give me a reason not to." He said, dragging out the words. The sarcasm made her wince and the facade was broken.

". . . You're not yourself." She said firmly, her voice only a fraction higher than normal but still commanding.

" . . . Me?" He said surprised, smiling

"You're trembling Miss Swann. . ." He murmured slowly. . . And indeed she was. His left hand was gripping her shoulder very tightly and she could feel a bruise forming. . . She had struggled a bit and had begun to shake ever so slightly when his grip tightened even more. Suddenly she was angry.

"You're a bloody coward Jack doing this and you know it..." She hissed. She stopped speaking as abruptly as she had begun and settled for an unwavering glare. She willed herself to stop shaking in his arms and grew quiet. She had watched a shadow pass over Jack's face and observed with a morbid fascination as he released her and took a few steps back. For a quick moment a distant and forgotten part of her noticed how handsome he looked. The way his shirt hung on him. . . and the way he was standing completely at ease as if they were simply having a friendly conversation. . . Her mind wandered in that direction for another long second as she gazed at him. But she snapped out of it instantly when Jack flashed her a smug smile.

"I know, luv." He said softly, almost tenderly... but his eyes were whispering drastically different tale and so did the gun that he had raised toward her again.

For a split second a small part of her considered begging, crying, apologizing, anything to stop what she knew was coming. But she didn't do any of those things and for the rest of her life was fiercely proud of that. She straightened her skirt slightly and rose to her full height, staring into his eyes calmly. Another second passed between them as Elizabeth composed herself.

"You don't frighten me anymore Jack. . ." And for an instant it appeared that he was reconsidering but then his eyes again grew cold and they narrowed.

She never heard the shot.

... I felt like rewriting the beginning ot this... it was really bugging me... ( ... the original version was horrible... I'm not sure if this is any better... (author's bias..) ... and the lack of reviews was a big hint that the orig. fic. wasn't very good... ah well... if you want to read the original version it's in chapter two in all it's glory... (sarcasm.)... I may continue this depending on how many reviews I get... So if I do continue it'll start in Ch. 3... if I think of any inturesting death scenes for E. (You know how it is... Or maybe you don't... you know those annoying Idea Demons that won't leave you be 'till you write 'em down...?) So if anyone has any suggestions or ideas... nothing too violent though...

I DO NOT HATE ELIZABETH!! I just wanted to see if I could pull off Jack killing Elizabeth... and I've come to the conclusion that I can't... (at least not very well...) ... l

Any feedback appreciated... Flames welcome... Constructive criticism adored... ) ... Sure. Random comments also welcomed...

Lady of the Mirror...

(Author's Note left intact in next chapter...)