Disclaimer:  No one said stop, so here's the rest of the vocals: Mulder (X-Files), Duncan (Highlander), Connor (Highlander), Roland (Gunslinger novels), Alissa (my story), Jaina (my story), Peter (my story), Travis (my story), Analis (my story), and Tristen (Cherryh's Fortress novels).  There is only one character ever that instead of copying accents/speech patterns/key phrases, I've found myself copying hand movements, and that really frightens my dad.  No one could ever guess who that character might be . . .

AN:  I'm writing this very short chapter with two hours to go until it's time for my senior pics, which are all outside, and guess what it has decided to do outside?  Water seems to be falling from the sky.  I am positive now that God really does hate me.  Once the fiasco with my pics are over, I will write and post a new chapter, and please don't throw any rocks at me—or any of my characters—until the story is closer to the end.

Trust Me Still

Part 12

Jack retreated, parrying the blows that Will threw at him as best he could.  The burning in his shoulder and arm had spread to his chest as the brotherhood had collected around him, but it eased slightly as their circle broke and scattered, and the small respite gave the pirate a chance to focus.

His mind still couldn't quite grasp that this was real.  He and Will usually had at least one duel each time the pirate appeared in Port Royal, a test of both their skills, and Jack had to force himself to remember that this time it wasn't a game.


This time Will seemed to be after his life.

If the raiders took him alive, he's gone, Jack.  Even if you find him, he won't be the man you knew.

Will looked basically the same as the last time Jack had seen him, and while there were bloodstains on his shirt, the force of the blows convinced the pirate that he couldn't be too sick.

Daniel turned towards Peter, yelled back at his companions 'family' . . .and proceeded to kill his brother.

Under any other circumstances, Jack supposed that he would have been honored to know that Will considered him a part of his family.  He would probably have replied with a sarcastic comment, but he would still have been honored.

Given the fact that these people apparently enjoyed killing their family, he could have done without the honor at the moment.

Will's sword swept down and cut a bloody trail across the pirate's left leg, directly above the knee.  Jack responded on instinct, bringing his own weapon into the opening the move created and slicing Will's left arm before limping backwards, the burning beginning to settle in his leg as well.

Both the pirate and the blacksmith stared in morbid fascination as the flesh quickly re-grew over the injury to Will's arm.

Will turned back to Jack, his mouth curled into a snarl that the pirate had never seen before.  "You were right.  You aren't worthy of that blade."

Jack stepped backwards again, supporting as much of his weight on his right leg as he could.  His left arm was beginning to ache, and he wondered why he wasn't dead yet.

"You're not worthy of the blade, you're not worthy of my friendship and you're not worthy of life!  I should have let you die eight years ago."

The blacksmith punctuated each exclamation with a swing.  The words stung, but the actions were what confused the pirate most.  Given his current condition and the fact that he was fighting switch while Will was not, Jack knew that he should be dead.  Will wasn't using anything near his usual style and grace.

If his injuries and his eyes didn't tell him otherwise, Jack would have sworn that the lad didn't really want to hurt him.

I was there, Jack Sparrow.  I saw his eyes.  It wasn't the same man that I had known.

Jack backed up a step and stared at Will's eyes, black pools with the thinnest rings of brown around them, searching for something that would tell him his friend was still inside.  He was forced to retreat again as Will attacked anew.

Jack leapt to the side to dodge a strike, nearly falling as his left leg buckled under the strain, raising his sword to parry a blow that came remarkably close to his neck.

Peter wasn't a coward or a fool.  He fought back.

He fought back . . .

Jack was fighting back, and it wasn't doing him any good.  Maybe this was one of the rare times in his life when a blade or a bullet wasn't the proper way to handle things.

Jack scrambled backwards once more and tossed his sword at Will's feet.  He could see the rest of the broherhood inching closer, but he ignored them, focusing instead on Will, who stared between the pirate and the blade at his feet.

"Pick it up."

"No."  Jack locked eyes with the blacksmith, breathing hard, trying to ignore the burning in his arm and leg.

Will stepped closer to the pirate.

"I said pick it up, or would you rather die a coward, weaponless?"

"I'm no coward, and the man that I knew wasn't a cold-blooded murderer."

"I'm no longer the man that you knew, Jack Sparrow.  You should have seen that by now."  Will's sword came to rest on Jack's chest.

"Whatever you are now, I still owe you my life, my sanity.  If you want them, they're yours.  I can't fight you, Will Turner."

The pressure on the blade increased as Jack continued to stare into Will's eyes, hoping to see something besides rage and the desire to kill.

Moments passed that seemed like eternities.  Then Jack saw it . . .a flicker of doubt, of pain, of denial flashed across Will's face.  His breathing quickened as he dared to hope.

The shove from behind caught the pirate captain completely off guard.