Summary: "Realization dawned on her and she looked at him, mortified. 'You think he's killed himself.'" Gibbs expresses his worries of Jack's mental state to Elizabeth, then they head into his cabin to check on him. One-shot. Post AWE. Sparrabeth. Rated for mentions of self harm and attempted suicide.
A/N: This is not at all what the original idea was haha...Sorry, Jack! I really do owe him a lot of apologies for what I put him through, don't I?
Words Cut Deeper Than Any Blade
Elizabeth hadn't thought much of Jack's lack of appearance on deck. They fought on an almost daily basis now, and he almost always slunk off to his cabin to lick his hurt pride. She had assumed he usually just drank himself into a stupor.
But that changed when Gibbs approached her in the first hours of the night, more than a little worried.
"Miss Elizabeth, have ye seen Jack?" He asked.
"No, of course I haven't." She rolled her eyes to herself. "I'm the last person he'd like to see."
The first mate looked at her, his face a mix of distress and grim calmness. "Ye haven't heard o' 'im at all since earlier?"
"No." She shook her head, fighting between doom, curiosity, and annoyance. "Why?"
The older man swallowed uncomfortably. "I don't blame ye, but...he's been doin' it ever since everythin' with the Kraken an' the Dutchman."
"Doing what?"
"Cuttin' up his arms."
Elizabeth sucked in a breath of horror. Jack had been cutting himself? Because of her? A pang of emotion tore through her and her eyes watered. She blinked, refusing to let tears fall. "He took it that bad?"
Gibbs nodded gravely. "'M afraid so, lass. What happened to Will hasn't helped at all either. He blames 'imself for what happened to 'im."
"I need to talk to him." She blurted out, starting for the cabin door.
"Wait." Her companion rested a hand on her shoulder as she passed him by. "Ye don't know how bad it is in there."
"And you do?"
"I have some suspicions, aye."
Realization dawned on her and she looked at him, mortified. "You think he's killed himself."
"I can't be certain, Miss Elizabeth, but I fear so." Gibbs told her. "We'll go in, but ye stay behind me an' leave if I tell ye to."
She hesitated. "Do we have to go in now?"
"He could be dyin' in there right now, lass. He needs us."
Elizabeth reluctantly nodded, a knot forming in her stomach. God, Jack...I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I had...Please be alive. I am so sorry.
Gibbs led the way to the cabin. He didn't even pause to knock on the door, but opened it and entered straight away. Elizabeth's senses were overwhelmed with the smell of both rum and blood. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness of the cabin- the curtains had been drawn shut so that no light made it inside. Her companion lit a candle on the desk in the middle of the room, then another.
"Stay there 'til I tell ye to move." He advised, taking one of the candles with him as he approached the bed in the back of the cabin.
She heard the sound of his boot shoving some discarded, empty bottles aside. In addition to cutting himself, Jack probably had indeed drank himself into a stupor. Her breath hitched fearfully at Gibbs's gasp.
"What is it?" She asked, dreading the answer. "Is he alive?"
"Aye, but he's on borrowed time already." The older man told her. "He's run hi'self through, but he's missed his heart. Oughta act quickly."
This is my fault. A few of the withheld tears silently slipped free, streaming down her face. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Get a bucket o' seawater to dump on 'im. If we can't wake 'im up, he's already lost."
Elizabeth hurried from the cabin and scooped up an abandoned wooden bucket. She climbed down the side of the ship, to the water's edge, and dipped the bucket into the salty liquid. She climbed back up onto the deck with a speed she didn't realize she possessed, all but racing into the cabin with the bucket. She was thankful the crew was asleep belowdecks, unable to get in the way.
When she approached Gibbs and the dying Jack, her legs felt weak at what she saw. The blood- there was so much of it. It stained the bed sheets, the old man's hands, the younger captain's bare torso and scarred arms. She could see the hilt of a sword sticking from his chest, the crimson blade having been forced all the way through his body. His head hung to the side limply, lifelessly. It was a sickening sight. She wondered how he was still holding on to his life. She forced herself to toss the water from the bucket onto his limp form.
As the splash broke the silence, Jack Sparrow snapped to life.
He coughed violently, blood spewing from behind his lips. His eyelids fluttered as they struggled to open fully. One of his hands rose to the hilt of the weapon in his heaving chest, disappointment flickering through his dark, unfocused eyes.
"Ye haven't come to finish me off by chance, have ye?" He slurred, his voice distorted from blood loss and whatever alcohol he had guzzled before stabbing himself.
Elizabeth couldn't suppress a sob, tears of joy running down her face. "Jack, you idiot! Did you really think I wanted you to do this to yourself?"
He shook his head lightly, refusing to meet her gaze. "No, I s'pose not, love."
She would have kissed him if he wasn't still on the verge of death. "I-I'm so sorry."
"We have a lot to talk 'bout later."
She nodded, in full agreement.
"Aye, later." Gibbs warned gruffly, returning from wherever he'd unnoticedly slipped off to. He placed down a small box on the bed, pulling out a needle and some thread. "Hang tight, lad."
Jack winced slightly at his first mate calling him a lad, but he didn't argue.
"Miss Elizabeth, when I tell ye, could ye work on pullin' out that sword?" The older man asked her. "Fast as ye can, then try to slow the bleedin' in his chest as I close the exit wound."
She nodded, wiping at her tears as she moved to the other side of the bed, for Jack lay on his side and was not at all strong enough to sit up.
"Be careful." Jack mumbled weakly, his voice just barely coherent. "If this goes wrong, 'M a bloody goner."
Elizabeth noted that he didn't seem incredibly worried about dying, nor about surviving. He doesn't even know which he'd prefer…
"I'm not going to let you die, Jack." She swore, reaching out to touch his face for a brief moment before positioning her hands on the sword.
He gave a slight huff, sounding almost like his amused old self. His eyes shone with doubt, however, as if to say,"We'll see 'bout that, love."
"Ye ready?" Gibbs asked her.
She nodded.
He gave the command to remove the sword lodged in Jack's chest.
As he had ordered, she removed it quickly, with one strong tug.
She gasped lightly as the blade cut a thin line in the hand that had been down against the entrance to the wound. She heard the dying man's own breath catch for a brief moment; he was too weak to make a louder sound. She hurriedly tossed the bloodied weapon aside and pressed her hands to the wound in his chest, her blood mixing in with his. She glanced to his face as Gibbs started doing his part, noticing that he was losing the battle to keep his eyes open.
"Hold on, Jack." Elizabeth murmured.
His dark, unreadable gaze flickered over her in response. It could have been her imagination, but she was almost certain she caught a brief glimpse of fear in his eyes. He was scared.
In that moment, she knew that Jack wanted to live. Despite everything, death was one thing he still feared above all else- even all that had driven him to this point.
A few fresh tears streaked down her cheeks. She found herself trying to comfort him. "You're going to be alright, Jack. You're not going to die. Gibbs is going to close your wounds, then we're going to figure out how to fix everything else. I promise."
He didn't show any indication of having heard her, his eyes just barely open. His breathing was beginning to slow. He was losing.
"Jack, please stay awake." She begged.
The only response was a moan as Gibbs finished up his work on the exit wound and rolled him onto his back.
The older man quietly suggested that she left the cabin.
She refused. "I'm not leaving him. Not now."
"Aye…Ye can stay then." Gibbs seemed to understand how she felt. "Jus' move aside so I can finish patchin' 'im up."
Elizabeth released her pressure upon Jack's bleeding chest, both his and her blood tripping from the tips of her fingers. She moved aside and watched Gibbs take her place, skillfully threading the needle through crimson covered skin. She sat down on the edge of the bed, beside the patient, cupping his jaw to hold his head up for him. It seemed he had given up trying to keep his eyes open, for they were closed.
"Stay with me, Jack." She pleaded, unable to hold back the remaining tears. "The Black Pearl needs you. I need you."
His eyelids twitched, but did not flutter open. She almost didn't hear the soft "aye" that escaped him, for his voice wasn't even a whisper.
"Gibbs!" She was desperate now. "There must be something you can do."
The first mate cut the thread as he finished closing the wound. "It's up to him now, Miss Elizabeth. We've done all we can."
"Do you think that he'll fight it? That he'll win?"
"I don't know...Words cut deeper than any blade, an' he might be too worn out from 'em. Been through a lot in 'is life, he has. An' he's still jus' a lad to me."