Disclaimer: Maybe now you understand the first one . . .
AN: First time writing or posting, though I've been reading fan fic for about two and a half years now, so please be kind. Constructive criticism welcomed, suggestions welcomed (especially when concerning a better title), flames will be forwarded to Barbosa in that deepest circle of hell that Jack talked about unless they can be put to better use . . .
A Taste of Misery
Part 2
The words seemed to echo through the cell, an accusation not just for the accused crime—which he really wasn't guilty of—but for every other crime he had ever committed. Lowering his eyes, Jack felt again the stab of hot agony as Barbosa ripped his sword from its lodging in his stomach and stabbed it through Jack's own, speeding the curse to completion. He saw the warm blood trickle down in a steadily growing stream from where he had shot Barbosa . . .and another stream of blood, even harder and faster, but the wound was from a sword, not a bullet, and the creature that lay dying was neither cruel nor cursed nor old . . .Jack shook his head, the beads clanking in his matted dark hair as he glared at the Turner's, the darkness rising again, hungry . . .it took all his strength to push it back.
"Jack . . .I thought that you were . . .a good man . . ." Damn the boy, but he looked as though someone was ripping his heart apart, though it was a smoldering anger that Jack saw in his eyes.
"A good man . . .we tried to warn you, William, Elizabeth . . .one good deed does not absolve a man of a lifetime of evil . . .nor does two . . .nor can they change a heart that's blacker than a witches midnight . . ." The Commodore stood ram-rod straight, staring down at Jack with loathing in his eyes, and the darkness rose again, stronger than Jack had ever felt it. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, he scrambled to his feet . . .and immediately staggered sideways, where he slid down the wall into a more natural seated position, which, though not the intended feat, was still better than kneeling like a petitioner at their feet.
"Jack, are you all right?" The soft voice was Elizabeth's, and all six men turned to stare at her in shock, which didn't seem to perturb her in the least.
"He's probably just drunk, Elizabeth." Will responded, though Jack barely heard it. He was too busy staring at Elizabeth's abdomen, ascertaining that it wasn't the continued haze in front of his vision that caused the bulge.
No, definitely not . . .Will was to have a child, then.
"Aye, drink up, me hearties, yo ho!" Jack flashed a feral grin at Will, his hold on the darkness weakening again. "So ye're ta hav' a chil', Will Turner."
"Aye. To think we would have named the child Jack, if it had been a boy—" Will never had a chance to finish the sentence, as Jack flung himself upright and at the bars with a strength he didn't think he had, grabbing hold of Will's shirt with both hands, heedless of his throbbing wrist.
"Don't ye e'er name a child after me, William Turner. Don' ye e'er—" Jack stumbled backwards in pain as Norrington brought the flat of his blade down on his wrists. "Please, Will, please . . ." Jack almost apologized for what he had done, but the darkness was raging inside his head, and what shards of his pride there were left balked at the thought.
"Don't worry, Jack. We weren't planning on it anymore . . .not after what you did." Will grabbed Elizabeth and turned, heading for the stairs. As he put his foot out to take the first step, he hesitated and turned, returning to where Jack knelt again in front of the bars, his eyes vacant and unfocused. The sight sent a thrill of fear through Will's heart, but he quickly shoved it away, concentrating on why Jack was back here now. Leaning down, shoving away the Commodore's arm when he would have stopped him, he stared Jack straight in the eye.
"You said my father was a good man. You also said he was your friend. You're obviously lying about one of those, because he couldn't have been both." Jack's head snapped back as though he had been slapped, and Will stood quickly and returned to help his wife up the stairs, a mixture of exhilaration and guilt twisting in his gut at the thought of what he had just done.
Commodore Norrington followed the couple up the stairs, motioning for the young, blond, blue-eyed guard to follow him.
