Upon A Painted Ocean - 23
Author: Daisy Sparrow
Pairing: Jack/Will, Will/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13 and rising
Summary: When a mysterious plague hits Port Royal, Will and Elizabeth go with Captain Jack Sparrow to find a cure. But when Will is captured by the man who unleashed the plague and infected with a strange new disease that feeds on love things start to get complicated. Slashiness!
Archive: fanfiction.net, PotC mailing list, and some other archives. OK for the others, as long as you ask me first.
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all its characters are not mine. I am making no money off this. Don't sue the college kid who are already broke. But Zeke is mine, so kindly keep your paws away.... unless you ask really nicely, begging also helps. ^_^ Credit for the title goes to Coleridge's poem and P.Speare who wrote the most wonderful Weiss Kreuz fic. Also special thanks to Darkdancer for the betaing and the summary.
Warning: Same as always, first fic ever and English not my first language. Is it hard to believe? Well, I supposed the four hellish years I wasted in university did contribute to something. It's the textbooks, I am telling ye. The evil EVIL textbooks!
Lan is the woman from Jack's first dream (back in chapter 2), sort liked his childhood caretaker. Don't mind her, I just figured that it was about time I gave her a name. Lan is Chinese for the color blue.
Read and Review please ^_^
" " speech
// // thoughts
*** *** memory/flashback
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was marching between two pirates, both carried torches and walked at a much faster pace than Will would have liked. The flames danced rhythmically to the wind and illuminated the path before them with its sullenly glow. The sounds of birds and insects echoed through out the silhouettes of the fading trees.
Jack and Vann were walking ahead of them, with the taller man's hand still obsessively positioned at Jack's back. The rest of the pirates had disappeared somewhere along the way. Will had a fleeing suspicion that they were ordered to deal with the 'company', which Vann had mentioned earlier. He hoped that Gibbs and the others were all right, and were having better luck than he was.
He pulled at the ropes around his wrists, twisted them until they were two thirds of the way up his forearms. The rough material bit into his skin and cut off his circulation, he gritted his teeth quickly to muffle the hiss of pain.
With the way his hands were bound, he could not reach into the hidden hoist inside his sleeve and draw the dagger completely out. However, after some more discrete fumbling with the ropes and the positions of his hands, he managed to pry open the triangular pad that covered the leather hoist, and nudge the end of the dagger partially out of its constraints.
Keeping his hands in front of him and his arms absolutely still, he began to saw through the binds. Neither pirates detected his heedful attempts at freeing himself, since one's back was to him, and the other couldn't observe anything that was happening in front of him.
After another ten minutes or so, they arrived at the flat plane at the top of the slop. Between the green bushes, there stood an ordinary looking house. It was obviously newly constructed, he concluded from the cleanness of its exterior and the freshly sowed soil of its garden.
He watched as Jack's eyes widened with recognition and hope, then darkened with confusion shortly joined by grief and despair. Vann loomed over the pirate from behind and whispered something. Jack appeared unresponsive before he started to shake like a leaf in the storm. The normally lush and alluring lips had paled to almost bloodless white, and were trembling when Jack murmured something.
Jack was rocking slightly on the back of his heels, looked for all the worlds like a lost little boy, who had been cheated and lied to for too many times, until the ability to trust had deserted the weather worn heart. Like someone who didn't know whether to run toward or back away when shelter was finally delivered. His feet moved by their accord until a sharp tug from his guards reeled his concentration back.
Anger, sadness, confusion and so many other emotions were radiating from Jack in enormous waves. Each sentiment emulated against one another, until finally sorrow won over all. The bitter melancholy was clinging around Jack like a rain-soaked cloak. Its tenacious claws reached over the space separated them, enclosed around his throat, suffocating him and tearing his heart asunder. He couldn't stop the concern manifesting from not just Jack's despondent posture, but also his own lack of control of the situation. He hadn't felt this helpless since he watched Elizabeth and Jack walked the plank during that whole fiasco with Barbossa.
He couldn't care less about the personal vendettas and wagers between Jack and Vann. The only thing that mattered right now was having Jack restored back to his eccentric self and Vann removed from the picture, preferably shot, stabbed or whatever. He wasn't going to be picky about the method. He wanted to shout, to lash out and just do something as long as he could wash away this stench of powerlessness.
A sharp bolt of pain jolted him out of his depressed rumination, and he cursed before he could stop himself. Apparently he had misjudged the required force, as a particular hard shove of the dagger not only had cut through the ropes, but also buried its tip under his skin. The cut was small, but deep and slipped right along side his bones. Although the blade had missed the main veins, blood was still streaming freely from the open wound and trickling onto the ground. He looked down on his injured wrist, his gaze followed each droplets as they splashed onto the sandy ground like crimson flowers in full bloom.
The noise finally gained him the attention of one of the guards, who had stepped closer. He kept his head low, reached into his sleeve with the injured wrist and drew out the dagger.
"What th' hell's-"
He didn't let the pirate finished the question. With a quick upward thrust, he slashed the dagger toward the man's throat. He kept the horizontal motion going and steady against the resistance of the skin and flesh, until the silvery metal broke free and emerged from the other side of the neck. The cutlass slid from the man's hand, and hit the ground with a dull sound. The man's mouth was opened in silence yelping, the slash on his neck was a gaping mess of tissues and blood. He jumped back just in time as the man fell forward and landed on the ground, twitched a couple of times and finally laid still.
There wasn't much time to plan his next course of action because the other guard had taken out his pistol and aimed toward him. He spun around and hacked the dagger down hard against the barrel of the pistol. It flew out of the man's hand without being fired. With his free hand, Will punched the other man in the stomach. The man doubled over in pain, and he seized the opportunity to sneak his other arm around the man's lowered neck, clamp down firmly and twist. With a barely audible crack, the man fell down to join his fellow on the ground.
Will paused slightly at the bodies on the ground and then inspected his ragged shirt ruined by blood. He was unfazed, which in itself unnerved him. He thought that he should at least felt some kind of remorse for killing those two men, but the adrenaline rush was still pumping fire into his veins. And after all that he had been through on this god forsaken island, he reckoned that it was safe to say that mercy was in very short supply.
Before his mind could reprimand himself for leaning toward cold blooded murder, his attention had already drifted back to the two people stood a short distance before him. Vann was still standing behind Jack, both seemed to be immersed in their own little world and didn't notice the riot that took place behind them. He could see that Jack was visibly flinching from the unwelcome touches.
With a barely suppressed cry, he threw himself at them.
~~~*~~~
He felt sick. The scenery had instantly captured him the moment he set his eyes on it, but it could not distract him from the unpleasant knot twisted within his stomach. It was only until Vann grabbed both his forearms from behind, did he realize that he was shaking.
"I've taken great pain to ensure that everything is exactly the same." Vann drawled beside his ear "everything, down to the very last detail."
Under the light of the torches, the house appeared to be the exact replicate as the one from his childhood. Its sturdy walls made of stacked whole logs and the waist-high fences consisted mainly of semi-fractured lumbers, were both painted white. The roof was covered with various type of materials, from palm tree leaves to pieces of pottery.
He remembered when he was young, the roof would often leak. He and the others had attempted to remedy the problem by using mud to fill the cracks. At that time, Jack had thought their solution to be rather ingenious, that was up until it rained. The problem with mud was that it tended to melt away, especially under storm, a tropical weather condition which the Caribbean liked to dish out more than frequently.
The yard enclosed by the fences was empty. It wasn't always so bare, Lan had planted roses there before. White roses, pale and pliant like her skin. She would take such great care of them, watering, trimming, sowing until they unfurled into the perfect blooms. He had been jealous once, that she had focused so much of her time on the thorny bushes. The air around the house was always tainted with the sweet fragrance of the roses, mixed with the saltiness of the sea.
He could still smell it. After all these years, as evident as if the flowers were still presented today. This couldn't be real. Deja vu. The deja vu of all deja vus. No. It was worse. A dream, an endless nightmare he could not awake from.
A palm was running uninvitingly up and down his side. He was still shaking so hard that his jaws were visibly trembling. He opened his mouth to speak. The sound that came out couldn't have been his, for it was so coarse and filled with a most uncharacteristic vulnerability.
"Why are ye doing this?"
Why was he being reminded of his failures, of everything that he had lost? Was this some new method to torture him, to break him, to shake him until his very foundation collapsed in shambles? Did he not have enough guilt and regret bottled inside him to last into the next life?
The grips on his arms tightened, and Vann's voice sounded surprised and almost hesitated. "I wanted to give you back what you have lost. You don't like it?"
He wanted to laugh, would have laughed if his throat wasn't so dry. What a joke this was! Give back what he had lost? When the very person who offered it was the one who took it from him in the first place. And people called him crazy.
"I should have listened to her and let ye drown."
"...but you didn't. You pulled me back when I sought death."
*** You have taken the choice from him, and in return you must give him a new purpose.***
Lan had told him to let the stranger go, to let the draft sink. She could tell when a man had lost all hope with nothing but feverish obsession to tie him to the world. She could always tell, and she was usually right. Your kindness was your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, she had looked sadly at him, and it would be the downfall of us all.
"Ye repaid me by killing every one that I cared about."
"I repaid you by severed all the chains which imprisoned you and set you free! You were capable of so much more. So much more than this island, than all of them could ever offer you!"
The world was spinning and he felt delirious. He opened his mouth and sucked in air like a starving man. Instead of soothing him and easing down the bile rising in his chest, each molecule seemed to be expanding, until they solidified and reached the size of fist, blocking the passage to his lung.
"Why couldn't you have come with me?! I would have taught you everything that you ever needed to know."
***Come with me.***
That single statement snapped him out of his trance. The man had asked him the same question once, that night when the roses were dipped in blood and the house before him burnt to ashes.
The house! He shuddered, the house was destroyed and nothing could ever replace it. The cottage in front of him was nothing but an poor imitation. The paints were fresh, its color undiluted, and its surface smooth without a single scratch. The nails mended the wooden boards together were silver in color, no trace of rust could be found. Everything was... new. That realization finally spoiled the haunting image for him.
"I wanted you to remember me. If you would not feel the same, then I would bore my place into your heart. Whether it was by pain or pleasure, I do not care!" Vann's voice had leveled to a whisper. "I will have you think of me, every second of your life."
"I hate you." He choked out.
That, at least was something he could hold on to. It was the anchor that grounded him, the hatred and resentment, which had taken roots in him for so long, and... Will. Just Will's presence calmed him somehow.
The blacksmith was near; he could touched the boy if he just reached out a little. He wanted to reach out, to clasp Will's hands in his own. But he couldn't, he couldn't afford to draw any more unwanted attention to the boy. He couldn't lose the only good thing in his life to another moment of weakness.
There was some kind of noises beside them, which garnered his attention for a split second. It sounded like voices. First Will's voice, then the loud clanking of metals. What was the boy doing?
Something rammed into them from behind, Vann's grips loosened by the impact and he wriggled out of the embrace instinctively. Someone was pulling at his arm and shouting urgently into his face. Will's brown eyes swam into view.
"Jack!"
Will was pressing something hard and sticky into his palm. Distinctly, he could register the shape of a knife, small, thin and slender.
Will's head suddenly swung up. The boy cursed and dived for the sword laying on the ground. There was movement behind him, his fingers grasped around the weapon before his brain could comprehend the action. The presence drew closer, and he remembered the soft giggling voice from his dreams.
*** Kill him and all your nightmares will end.***
In less than a heartbeat, he had swirled around and drove the dagger hard into Vann's chest.
~~~*~~~
Gibbs kicked the body on the ground a couple more times just for good measure. The peacefulness of the forest was spoiled by the heavy panting of the wounded and the heaving gasping of the dying. His still-shaking hands fumbled with the whisky bottle at his side, only to found it empty. A long string of curses ensured.
They had taken the brotherhood pirates by surprise and after a rather bloody battle, had neutralized the problem. All thanks to a couple of well- hidden weapons.
Interesting because pirates were known as brutes, and generally didn't rate very high in the strategy or the plan-ahead department. It must had been something like the latest fashion trend to have some kind of sharp object tucked away on one's person. Or the crews could just be taking after the cook, seeing as how Zeke always managed to whip out a dagger out of seemingly nowhere. Young people now days really didn't care much about honor, and he completely approved, at least when the end served the means.
"Are we going after th' captain." Anamarie asked while whipping her cutlass on several bodies to get rid of the blood stain.
"Course not. Ye heard what he said."
She stopped the cleaning job and took a menacing step forward. He jumped back immediately. Several of the others snickered. He fixed them with a stern glare. He was a pirate, he argued internally, survival came first and the girl was known to pack a very mean slap.
"Coward." She spat out indignantly.
He agreed wholeheartedly. Why? See the part about the pirate and how survival came first.
"Remember th' code." He coaxed gently.
"Screw th' code," she replied, "Th' rest of you lot can all rot, but I am going! He's our captain an' I ain't leaving him behind again!"
With that said, she turned and stomped toward the way they came. The others looked at each other then back at him. He shrugged uncomfortably.
How came he always ended up as the acting captain. He thought that he had mentioned several time to Jack that he hated responsibility. It was really very frustrating being the only one with some common sense on the ship. When this was all over, he was going to ask Jack to get a new first mate. He hoped that Will would stay and take up the job. The only time that Jack seemed relatively sane was when the lad was around. Then he could finally get a life and retire to some nice little port.
The others were moving now, predictably, after Anamarie. He sighed and followed.
~~~*~~~
Will swung his cutlass forward and missed. Vann stumbled back, both hands covered his chest as the fabric underneath began to soaked with blood.
Jack stared down on his blood stained hands with something akin to fascination. The sensation of having the slicking substance coated his fingers was almost like a soft caress. Feathery light, yet cold and smooth like the skin of a snake, with a mind of its own as it dripped down onto and twisted around his forearms. The blood looked almost black under the torch light, while emitting an layer of yellowish shine, grotesque and beautiful at the same time.
The dagger was still clenched tightly in his fist. The thin piece of metal was vibrating, singing, crying out. No. Wait. Weapons didn't move by themselves. So it must be him then. He was the one who was shaking and thirsting for more.
But more of what? More blood? To sink the hard metal into flesh again, drove deep into the muscles until its edge encountered the bones that would blocked its path, and even then he would hack the obstacles into pieces? To watch the green eyes clouded by pain and the ageless face bathed in agony? To gloat in triumph and laugh hysterically until his vocal cord failed under the strain?
No.
He wanted none of it. What he wanted was to curl up in some dark corner and just.... not think about anything. Or Will. Yes, he wanted to curl up in some dark corner with Will against his chest, bury himself in the welcoming warmth until the world around them blanked out.
He looked up before his senses could be overwhelmed by the ominous clashing of feelings. Vann was laughing.... or was he choking? He couldn't really tell, with all the blood flowing from the man's mouth, stifling and altering every sound into the same monogamous gasp.
"Well done!" Vann snarled between groans of pain, "You still managed to surprise me after all this time."
Tiny rivulets of fear and excitement trailed down his spine. Beside him, Will threw one of the torches at Vann. It hit the man square in the chest, pushed him back further and brought Vann crashing into the wooden house.
Nothing moved for one instant. He shivered and time resumed its natural flow. Then fire erupted through the roof and dispersed onto everything else. Like forked tongues, the flame licked pass the walls, twirling around the fences until it crawled onto the bushes around.
He was rooted to the ground. This all looked so familiar. Every noises and every snapshots. The house was burning... again. The wooden beams crumbled under the stress and the nails yielded under the heat. Everything was shrieking, the house, the wind, the dirty beneath his feet....and Will. ....Will?!
"Jack!" Will yanked hard at his arms. "Come on. We have to get out of here!"
That's right. They had to get out before any more of Vann's lackeys come back, or before Vann could flip away the two tons of burning logs on him. But he wanted to stay, to stay and make sure the man was really dead. He was sure that he had stabbed Vann through the heart. Or had he? His mind was all clogged up, and the blade was kind of short. So maybe he should stay and wait until the fire died down, then he could dig through the rubble and....
"JACK!"
Will's shouting was quickly growing in volume. He didn't like the desperation in that voice; it was disheartened and he never wanted to hear it again. He shook his head to dislodge the bleary images and schooled his features into his usual languish expression as best as he could. He still wasn't in his normal frame of mind, but he could adapt until the shock finally left his system.
He stole one last glimpse at the house, prayed silently that it would kept on burning until there was nothing left. Nothing to remind him and allow him to finally lay rest the ghost of his past.
He took a hold of Will's hand and squeezed gently. "Let's get out of here."
~~~*~~~
He was paralyzed, the numbness had spread from his heart to his limbs. There was a loud rattling around him and the smoke was getting thicker by the minutes. Only one thought was reciting in his mind over and over. Jack had stabbed him... mostly likely with something magical, just because of the fact that he could actually feel the pain. He laughed, the notion quickly turned into another coughing fit.
It was getting colder, even though the fire was beginning to singe the tip of his boots. He reckoned that he must be dying. That realization was strangely comforting, it had been long overdue. Amidst all the chaos, he had found some small amount of peace with himself. He was, most definitely, going to hell. It was always assuring to know where one stands after all.
*** Love can not be forced. If it didn't belong to you, no matter what you do, it will never be yours.***
Funny how he was thinking about her now. He never even found out her name, people had became faceless to him for so long and their blood had all looked the same. He wanted to mellow alone, close his eyes and let his mind descend to the black abyss.
"Careless. I warned you about Ezekiel's dagger, did I not?"
Apparently being alone was too much to ask for. It wasn't an accusation more than an cynical statement of fact. He rationalized that he must had come cross as rather pathetic to warrant the use of such allusion like innuendo.
He craned his head a little toward the direction where the voice came from. The impetuous action brought a host of different sensations, ranging from plain devastating pain to the annoying pricking of burnt skin in contact with air.
She was floating in mid air and among the dancing flame, body inclined slightly forward and legs crossed seductively. The same lazy smirk hanged around the corner of her blood red lips. He moved his face back toward the ceiling; he didn't wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.
"It would appear that your prey had ran away again. Disappointing, really. All this time, I had such high hopes for you."
If she was trying to extract the last bit of rage from him, it wasn't working very well. He was far too gone to care now. He really wished that she would just shut up. It wasn't a outrageous request, was it, especially from a dying man. Then again God had never listened to him before, so he really shouldn't expect otherwise.
"Why are you still here?" He groaned out.
"To watch you suffer. You killed my pet, which means you own me some good entertainment."
Of course. That made sense.
"And where is your charge? .....all this time you was so absorbed in my affair...."
"Ezekiel is safely tucked away. No one here is powerful enough to destroy the barrier."
"....my little sparrow is very resourceful."
He would always refer to Jack as his, because as long as Jack held on to the past, the pirate would never break away from his influence. He would haunt the man, and his ghost would stalk Jack into the sleepless nights. The pirate would belong to him, even just in the forms of hollow echoes of memory and the white etchings of old scars.
"If Ezekiel had awakened, I will know. He will be cross, and there will be fireworks because things will get blow up."
If she was uncertain, her voice didn't show it. This would be one last game between them, and he would have the demon played by his rules.
"Are you sure now? My men had informed me of another ship..."
She was interested now, as she swooped down and hovered just above him. The fire brushed across her fair skin like feathers and only complimented her radiance. She was clearly expecting an answer, and he stared stoically ahead.
After an eerie and portentous stillness, she giggled. Then with great leisure, she inserted one well manicured finger into the wound on his chest, scratched all the way down and pulled it out before licked off the bloody tissues. He gritted his teeth, but did not allow the moan to escape his throat. Her manner was patient, but her action betrayed the underlined urgency
"Another ship?"
"Oh, yes. The British navy."
"The navy?!"
One clawed hand was grasping his throat, and squeezed with almost savage force. He really wanted to laugh, but his windpipe was cut off, and he could managed nothing more than the next slurred out word.
"Dauntless."
The violet eyes widened as her mind sorted out the implication of that name. Doubt and suspicion flashed across her face and he felt the wave of almost childish accomplishment washed over him with vehemence. That one moment of fulfilling bliss blinded his senses and he didn't notice the sudden increase of force around his neck.
A snap.
Then there was nothing more.
~~~*~~~
Jack had always questioned fate's highly unhinged sense of humor, and he had been proven right time and time again.
Will and he had marveled as they managed to avoid bumping into anymore Vann's men. They were almost at the bottom of the hill when they met up with Gibbs and the others. Things were looking very well, that was until the navy crushed the party uninvited.
The standoff had lasted a good five minutes now, either parties was willing to waiver first. He admitted that their relationship couldn't exactly be labeled amicable, but did the commodore really had to chose today of all days to exercise his animosity towards pirates.
"You are all under arrest, pirates."
Norrington looked to be on the verge of swooning, face white, eminently against the deep indigo of his uniform collar. The man's affliction must had not been as severe as Jack predicted, judging by the heated glares and the angry demands both directed in his way. If the commodore had energy to shout, the man probably wasn't that bad off.
"I think not."
"I don't care what you think! Surrender, you have nowhere else to go."
"We are in mutual enemy territory here, commodore."
"Yes, but I have your ship, Sparrow, and a good number of your crew."
"Captain! Captain Sparrow, and ye can't expect me to believe that."
"Believe what you will, *Sparrow*, but Miss. Swann was most helpful and I suggest you do the same."
That was not funny, he contemplated darkly. However since the commodore wasn't known to be joking about anything, it was probably true. Damn. The lass knew then. Hell really paled in comparison to a woman's wrath. It was nothing personal, but right now he really wished that Zeke had finished Norrington off in Tortuga.
Will fidget nervously beside him. Anamarie scowled, and several red coats scowled back. He was pondering whether to make a break for it before the ground between them exploded.
Chaos followed.
He ducked as a ball of fire scudded pass his head; he rolled a few feet and into a nearby bush. Will was gaping at the sky, as were many others. He cursed, yelled for the others to take cover and yanked the youth down and dragged him into the bushes.
After he finally managed to catch a breath, he started scanning for the source of the danger. And there was Ursella, stood on the blackened earth where the fire had burned away a deep hole. Flame kindled, entwined with traces of silver lightening and twisted around her left arm like a snake. Each trail of fire and sparks crowned by the next, layer upon layer, until another orb was configured. She released the sphere; people screamed, dodged and dived in different directions. Her eyes were glowing dangerously, and she chastised them in a mildly annoyed tone.
"You are not getting away. Come out, come out."
Pistol were fired and swords were hailed her way, but none could so much so as graze the tip of her hair. As soon as the weapons came within close proximity of her, bullets would just glide away in an arc and the blades would be deflected off by an invisible wall. It was like there was some kind of impalpable sphere protecting her.
"I know you are here. Come out! .....fine, I'll just kill every last one of you."
She was growing profoundly angrier and her targets seemed to be sorely focused on the navy personal. The incandescent flare she wielded was picking them off one by one.
Another explosion and the commodore joined them in the bushes with an ungraceful sprawl. Norrington coughed, shoulders heaved and supported himself with his sword.
"What in the name of the God is going on here?!"
Jack observed unhelpful and somewhat malevolently, "I think ye might be the one she's looking for. Ex-girlfriend?"
"Don't be absurd! I've never seen her before in my life."
From somewhere, Anamarie gasped in pain then swore loudly. Will tensed and made as if to sprinted out. He hooked one leg beneath the boy's feet. Will tripped and slumped back down against the ground.
"You stay HERE." Then he turned toward Norrington, "temporary truce, commodore?"
A pause, then "all right.... but you are still under arrest."
"Sure, sure. Now, you distract her, and I'll sneak up on her from behind."
Norrington groaned out an affirmative, clearly not liking the ideas of either cooperating with the pirates or being the bait. A fire ball skimmed just pass their hiding place, her laughter reverberated in the air, and discombobulated the screaming masses even more.
"Now." Jack whispered harshly.
Norrington leaped up, and ran in the opposite direction as soon as he landed on his feet. The sudden movement caught Ursella's rampaging attention; her gaze chased the commodore, along with an array of explosions.
Jack grabbed the first sharp object in sight, which happened to be the dagger Will gave him, and hurled the knife at her vulnerable back. She swirled around with inhuman speed just in time to caught the blade between two fingers.
With a rueful smirk, she tossed the dagger aside and raised her hand. A strong gust of wind, and the ground split right in front of him. Steam spurted from the crack and he hastily flipped back. He landed in a crouch just as her hand raised to wave again.
Then she stopped. Gasped and looked down, the tip of a sword was thrust from her chest. Her step staggered and Norrington pulled out the sword from her back. She turned around slowly and glared.
"YOU! Of course, it's you, no one else could do this!"
Both of her hands were covering the hole on her chest. Something resembled black oil was seeping from between her fingers, and small trail of it was dripping from her mouth and down her chin. Jack fathomed that it must be her blood. She took a swing with one clawed hand and Norrington reeled back immediately, sword still held high.
"You are not taking him away again. This isn't over! He will send others!"
The ground shook and caved in beneath her feet. She fell but hanged onto the edge of the hollow void at the last second. Crevices and fissures of various sizes decorated the area around the cavity. Arms like tendrils burst out and encircled her, wrenching at her tight grips and towing her down.
"NO!" She struggled harder, "No! I will not go back!"
In response, a hideous roar resounded deep from the hole and a shadowy cape enveloped her entire body. In the next second, the orifice opened wider and swallowed her. The rifts retracted back like tentacles, and the ground returned to its previous flattened state.
Jack blinked, stared down in awe. All was quite now, other than a few hitching and the sound of steel dragged against the sand. Will rushed toward him and engulfed him in a bear hug. He breathed deep in the boy's sweet scent and bathed in the silent companionship before disentangled himself and raising his face. Only to found a sword, smeared with demon blood, pointed just below his chin.
Norrington said tiredly, "Like I said, pirate. You are still under arrest."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zeke: You like to snap people's neck and describe gory scenes in vivid details.... I think I am beginning to like you. Me: _
Just one more chapter to go now. Yes, Zeke will be back. I have it done, and I'll post it as soon as I get all the paragraphs sort out properly and add some final touch.
Author: Daisy Sparrow
Pairing: Jack/Will, Will/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13 and rising
Summary: When a mysterious plague hits Port Royal, Will and Elizabeth go with Captain Jack Sparrow to find a cure. But when Will is captured by the man who unleashed the plague and infected with a strange new disease that feeds on love things start to get complicated. Slashiness!
Archive: fanfiction.net, PotC mailing list, and some other archives. OK for the others, as long as you ask me first.
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all its characters are not mine. I am making no money off this. Don't sue the college kid who are already broke. But Zeke is mine, so kindly keep your paws away.... unless you ask really nicely, begging also helps. ^_^ Credit for the title goes to Coleridge's poem and P.Speare who wrote the most wonderful Weiss Kreuz fic. Also special thanks to Darkdancer for the betaing and the summary.
Warning: Same as always, first fic ever and English not my first language. Is it hard to believe? Well, I supposed the four hellish years I wasted in university did contribute to something. It's the textbooks, I am telling ye. The evil EVIL textbooks!
Lan is the woman from Jack's first dream (back in chapter 2), sort liked his childhood caretaker. Don't mind her, I just figured that it was about time I gave her a name. Lan is Chinese for the color blue.
Read and Review please ^_^
" " speech
// // thoughts
*** *** memory/flashback
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was marching between two pirates, both carried torches and walked at a much faster pace than Will would have liked. The flames danced rhythmically to the wind and illuminated the path before them with its sullenly glow. The sounds of birds and insects echoed through out the silhouettes of the fading trees.
Jack and Vann were walking ahead of them, with the taller man's hand still obsessively positioned at Jack's back. The rest of the pirates had disappeared somewhere along the way. Will had a fleeing suspicion that they were ordered to deal with the 'company', which Vann had mentioned earlier. He hoped that Gibbs and the others were all right, and were having better luck than he was.
He pulled at the ropes around his wrists, twisted them until they were two thirds of the way up his forearms. The rough material bit into his skin and cut off his circulation, he gritted his teeth quickly to muffle the hiss of pain.
With the way his hands were bound, he could not reach into the hidden hoist inside his sleeve and draw the dagger completely out. However, after some more discrete fumbling with the ropes and the positions of his hands, he managed to pry open the triangular pad that covered the leather hoist, and nudge the end of the dagger partially out of its constraints.
Keeping his hands in front of him and his arms absolutely still, he began to saw through the binds. Neither pirates detected his heedful attempts at freeing himself, since one's back was to him, and the other couldn't observe anything that was happening in front of him.
After another ten minutes or so, they arrived at the flat plane at the top of the slop. Between the green bushes, there stood an ordinary looking house. It was obviously newly constructed, he concluded from the cleanness of its exterior and the freshly sowed soil of its garden.
He watched as Jack's eyes widened with recognition and hope, then darkened with confusion shortly joined by grief and despair. Vann loomed over the pirate from behind and whispered something. Jack appeared unresponsive before he started to shake like a leaf in the storm. The normally lush and alluring lips had paled to almost bloodless white, and were trembling when Jack murmured something.
Jack was rocking slightly on the back of his heels, looked for all the worlds like a lost little boy, who had been cheated and lied to for too many times, until the ability to trust had deserted the weather worn heart. Like someone who didn't know whether to run toward or back away when shelter was finally delivered. His feet moved by their accord until a sharp tug from his guards reeled his concentration back.
Anger, sadness, confusion and so many other emotions were radiating from Jack in enormous waves. Each sentiment emulated against one another, until finally sorrow won over all. The bitter melancholy was clinging around Jack like a rain-soaked cloak. Its tenacious claws reached over the space separated them, enclosed around his throat, suffocating him and tearing his heart asunder. He couldn't stop the concern manifesting from not just Jack's despondent posture, but also his own lack of control of the situation. He hadn't felt this helpless since he watched Elizabeth and Jack walked the plank during that whole fiasco with Barbossa.
He couldn't care less about the personal vendettas and wagers between Jack and Vann. The only thing that mattered right now was having Jack restored back to his eccentric self and Vann removed from the picture, preferably shot, stabbed or whatever. He wasn't going to be picky about the method. He wanted to shout, to lash out and just do something as long as he could wash away this stench of powerlessness.
A sharp bolt of pain jolted him out of his depressed rumination, and he cursed before he could stop himself. Apparently he had misjudged the required force, as a particular hard shove of the dagger not only had cut through the ropes, but also buried its tip under his skin. The cut was small, but deep and slipped right along side his bones. Although the blade had missed the main veins, blood was still streaming freely from the open wound and trickling onto the ground. He looked down on his injured wrist, his gaze followed each droplets as they splashed onto the sandy ground like crimson flowers in full bloom.
The noise finally gained him the attention of one of the guards, who had stepped closer. He kept his head low, reached into his sleeve with the injured wrist and drew out the dagger.
"What th' hell's-"
He didn't let the pirate finished the question. With a quick upward thrust, he slashed the dagger toward the man's throat. He kept the horizontal motion going and steady against the resistance of the skin and flesh, until the silvery metal broke free and emerged from the other side of the neck. The cutlass slid from the man's hand, and hit the ground with a dull sound. The man's mouth was opened in silence yelping, the slash on his neck was a gaping mess of tissues and blood. He jumped back just in time as the man fell forward and landed on the ground, twitched a couple of times and finally laid still.
There wasn't much time to plan his next course of action because the other guard had taken out his pistol and aimed toward him. He spun around and hacked the dagger down hard against the barrel of the pistol. It flew out of the man's hand without being fired. With his free hand, Will punched the other man in the stomach. The man doubled over in pain, and he seized the opportunity to sneak his other arm around the man's lowered neck, clamp down firmly and twist. With a barely audible crack, the man fell down to join his fellow on the ground.
Will paused slightly at the bodies on the ground and then inspected his ragged shirt ruined by blood. He was unfazed, which in itself unnerved him. He thought that he should at least felt some kind of remorse for killing those two men, but the adrenaline rush was still pumping fire into his veins. And after all that he had been through on this god forsaken island, he reckoned that it was safe to say that mercy was in very short supply.
Before his mind could reprimand himself for leaning toward cold blooded murder, his attention had already drifted back to the two people stood a short distance before him. Vann was still standing behind Jack, both seemed to be immersed in their own little world and didn't notice the riot that took place behind them. He could see that Jack was visibly flinching from the unwelcome touches.
With a barely suppressed cry, he threw himself at them.
~~~*~~~
He felt sick. The scenery had instantly captured him the moment he set his eyes on it, but it could not distract him from the unpleasant knot twisted within his stomach. It was only until Vann grabbed both his forearms from behind, did he realize that he was shaking.
"I've taken great pain to ensure that everything is exactly the same." Vann drawled beside his ear "everything, down to the very last detail."
Under the light of the torches, the house appeared to be the exact replicate as the one from his childhood. Its sturdy walls made of stacked whole logs and the waist-high fences consisted mainly of semi-fractured lumbers, were both painted white. The roof was covered with various type of materials, from palm tree leaves to pieces of pottery.
He remembered when he was young, the roof would often leak. He and the others had attempted to remedy the problem by using mud to fill the cracks. At that time, Jack had thought their solution to be rather ingenious, that was up until it rained. The problem with mud was that it tended to melt away, especially under storm, a tropical weather condition which the Caribbean liked to dish out more than frequently.
The yard enclosed by the fences was empty. It wasn't always so bare, Lan had planted roses there before. White roses, pale and pliant like her skin. She would take such great care of them, watering, trimming, sowing until they unfurled into the perfect blooms. He had been jealous once, that she had focused so much of her time on the thorny bushes. The air around the house was always tainted with the sweet fragrance of the roses, mixed with the saltiness of the sea.
He could still smell it. After all these years, as evident as if the flowers were still presented today. This couldn't be real. Deja vu. The deja vu of all deja vus. No. It was worse. A dream, an endless nightmare he could not awake from.
A palm was running uninvitingly up and down his side. He was still shaking so hard that his jaws were visibly trembling. He opened his mouth to speak. The sound that came out couldn't have been his, for it was so coarse and filled with a most uncharacteristic vulnerability.
"Why are ye doing this?"
Why was he being reminded of his failures, of everything that he had lost? Was this some new method to torture him, to break him, to shake him until his very foundation collapsed in shambles? Did he not have enough guilt and regret bottled inside him to last into the next life?
The grips on his arms tightened, and Vann's voice sounded surprised and almost hesitated. "I wanted to give you back what you have lost. You don't like it?"
He wanted to laugh, would have laughed if his throat wasn't so dry. What a joke this was! Give back what he had lost? When the very person who offered it was the one who took it from him in the first place. And people called him crazy.
"I should have listened to her and let ye drown."
"...but you didn't. You pulled me back when I sought death."
*** You have taken the choice from him, and in return you must give him a new purpose.***
Lan had told him to let the stranger go, to let the draft sink. She could tell when a man had lost all hope with nothing but feverish obsession to tie him to the world. She could always tell, and she was usually right. Your kindness was your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, she had looked sadly at him, and it would be the downfall of us all.
"Ye repaid me by killing every one that I cared about."
"I repaid you by severed all the chains which imprisoned you and set you free! You were capable of so much more. So much more than this island, than all of them could ever offer you!"
The world was spinning and he felt delirious. He opened his mouth and sucked in air like a starving man. Instead of soothing him and easing down the bile rising in his chest, each molecule seemed to be expanding, until they solidified and reached the size of fist, blocking the passage to his lung.
"Why couldn't you have come with me?! I would have taught you everything that you ever needed to know."
***Come with me.***
That single statement snapped him out of his trance. The man had asked him the same question once, that night when the roses were dipped in blood and the house before him burnt to ashes.
The house! He shuddered, the house was destroyed and nothing could ever replace it. The cottage in front of him was nothing but an poor imitation. The paints were fresh, its color undiluted, and its surface smooth without a single scratch. The nails mended the wooden boards together were silver in color, no trace of rust could be found. Everything was... new. That realization finally spoiled the haunting image for him.
"I wanted you to remember me. If you would not feel the same, then I would bore my place into your heart. Whether it was by pain or pleasure, I do not care!" Vann's voice had leveled to a whisper. "I will have you think of me, every second of your life."
"I hate you." He choked out.
That, at least was something he could hold on to. It was the anchor that grounded him, the hatred and resentment, which had taken roots in him for so long, and... Will. Just Will's presence calmed him somehow.
The blacksmith was near; he could touched the boy if he just reached out a little. He wanted to reach out, to clasp Will's hands in his own. But he couldn't, he couldn't afford to draw any more unwanted attention to the boy. He couldn't lose the only good thing in his life to another moment of weakness.
There was some kind of noises beside them, which garnered his attention for a split second. It sounded like voices. First Will's voice, then the loud clanking of metals. What was the boy doing?
Something rammed into them from behind, Vann's grips loosened by the impact and he wriggled out of the embrace instinctively. Someone was pulling at his arm and shouting urgently into his face. Will's brown eyes swam into view.
"Jack!"
Will was pressing something hard and sticky into his palm. Distinctly, he could register the shape of a knife, small, thin and slender.
Will's head suddenly swung up. The boy cursed and dived for the sword laying on the ground. There was movement behind him, his fingers grasped around the weapon before his brain could comprehend the action. The presence drew closer, and he remembered the soft giggling voice from his dreams.
*** Kill him and all your nightmares will end.***
In less than a heartbeat, he had swirled around and drove the dagger hard into Vann's chest.
~~~*~~~
Gibbs kicked the body on the ground a couple more times just for good measure. The peacefulness of the forest was spoiled by the heavy panting of the wounded and the heaving gasping of the dying. His still-shaking hands fumbled with the whisky bottle at his side, only to found it empty. A long string of curses ensured.
They had taken the brotherhood pirates by surprise and after a rather bloody battle, had neutralized the problem. All thanks to a couple of well- hidden weapons.
Interesting because pirates were known as brutes, and generally didn't rate very high in the strategy or the plan-ahead department. It must had been something like the latest fashion trend to have some kind of sharp object tucked away on one's person. Or the crews could just be taking after the cook, seeing as how Zeke always managed to whip out a dagger out of seemingly nowhere. Young people now days really didn't care much about honor, and he completely approved, at least when the end served the means.
"Are we going after th' captain." Anamarie asked while whipping her cutlass on several bodies to get rid of the blood stain.
"Course not. Ye heard what he said."
She stopped the cleaning job and took a menacing step forward. He jumped back immediately. Several of the others snickered. He fixed them with a stern glare. He was a pirate, he argued internally, survival came first and the girl was known to pack a very mean slap.
"Coward." She spat out indignantly.
He agreed wholeheartedly. Why? See the part about the pirate and how survival came first.
"Remember th' code." He coaxed gently.
"Screw th' code," she replied, "Th' rest of you lot can all rot, but I am going! He's our captain an' I ain't leaving him behind again!"
With that said, she turned and stomped toward the way they came. The others looked at each other then back at him. He shrugged uncomfortably.
How came he always ended up as the acting captain. He thought that he had mentioned several time to Jack that he hated responsibility. It was really very frustrating being the only one with some common sense on the ship. When this was all over, he was going to ask Jack to get a new first mate. He hoped that Will would stay and take up the job. The only time that Jack seemed relatively sane was when the lad was around. Then he could finally get a life and retire to some nice little port.
The others were moving now, predictably, after Anamarie. He sighed and followed.
~~~*~~~
Will swung his cutlass forward and missed. Vann stumbled back, both hands covered his chest as the fabric underneath began to soaked with blood.
Jack stared down on his blood stained hands with something akin to fascination. The sensation of having the slicking substance coated his fingers was almost like a soft caress. Feathery light, yet cold and smooth like the skin of a snake, with a mind of its own as it dripped down onto and twisted around his forearms. The blood looked almost black under the torch light, while emitting an layer of yellowish shine, grotesque and beautiful at the same time.
The dagger was still clenched tightly in his fist. The thin piece of metal was vibrating, singing, crying out. No. Wait. Weapons didn't move by themselves. So it must be him then. He was the one who was shaking and thirsting for more.
But more of what? More blood? To sink the hard metal into flesh again, drove deep into the muscles until its edge encountered the bones that would blocked its path, and even then he would hack the obstacles into pieces? To watch the green eyes clouded by pain and the ageless face bathed in agony? To gloat in triumph and laugh hysterically until his vocal cord failed under the strain?
No.
He wanted none of it. What he wanted was to curl up in some dark corner and just.... not think about anything. Or Will. Yes, he wanted to curl up in some dark corner with Will against his chest, bury himself in the welcoming warmth until the world around them blanked out.
He looked up before his senses could be overwhelmed by the ominous clashing of feelings. Vann was laughing.... or was he choking? He couldn't really tell, with all the blood flowing from the man's mouth, stifling and altering every sound into the same monogamous gasp.
"Well done!" Vann snarled between groans of pain, "You still managed to surprise me after all this time."
Tiny rivulets of fear and excitement trailed down his spine. Beside him, Will threw one of the torches at Vann. It hit the man square in the chest, pushed him back further and brought Vann crashing into the wooden house.
Nothing moved for one instant. He shivered and time resumed its natural flow. Then fire erupted through the roof and dispersed onto everything else. Like forked tongues, the flame licked pass the walls, twirling around the fences until it crawled onto the bushes around.
He was rooted to the ground. This all looked so familiar. Every noises and every snapshots. The house was burning... again. The wooden beams crumbled under the stress and the nails yielded under the heat. Everything was shrieking, the house, the wind, the dirty beneath his feet....and Will. ....Will?!
"Jack!" Will yanked hard at his arms. "Come on. We have to get out of here!"
That's right. They had to get out before any more of Vann's lackeys come back, or before Vann could flip away the two tons of burning logs on him. But he wanted to stay, to stay and make sure the man was really dead. He was sure that he had stabbed Vann through the heart. Or had he? His mind was all clogged up, and the blade was kind of short. So maybe he should stay and wait until the fire died down, then he could dig through the rubble and....
"JACK!"
Will's shouting was quickly growing in volume. He didn't like the desperation in that voice; it was disheartened and he never wanted to hear it again. He shook his head to dislodge the bleary images and schooled his features into his usual languish expression as best as he could. He still wasn't in his normal frame of mind, but he could adapt until the shock finally left his system.
He stole one last glimpse at the house, prayed silently that it would kept on burning until there was nothing left. Nothing to remind him and allow him to finally lay rest the ghost of his past.
He took a hold of Will's hand and squeezed gently. "Let's get out of here."
~~~*~~~
He was paralyzed, the numbness had spread from his heart to his limbs. There was a loud rattling around him and the smoke was getting thicker by the minutes. Only one thought was reciting in his mind over and over. Jack had stabbed him... mostly likely with something magical, just because of the fact that he could actually feel the pain. He laughed, the notion quickly turned into another coughing fit.
It was getting colder, even though the fire was beginning to singe the tip of his boots. He reckoned that he must be dying. That realization was strangely comforting, it had been long overdue. Amidst all the chaos, he had found some small amount of peace with himself. He was, most definitely, going to hell. It was always assuring to know where one stands after all.
*** Love can not be forced. If it didn't belong to you, no matter what you do, it will never be yours.***
Funny how he was thinking about her now. He never even found out her name, people had became faceless to him for so long and their blood had all looked the same. He wanted to mellow alone, close his eyes and let his mind descend to the black abyss.
"Careless. I warned you about Ezekiel's dagger, did I not?"
Apparently being alone was too much to ask for. It wasn't an accusation more than an cynical statement of fact. He rationalized that he must had come cross as rather pathetic to warrant the use of such allusion like innuendo.
He craned his head a little toward the direction where the voice came from. The impetuous action brought a host of different sensations, ranging from plain devastating pain to the annoying pricking of burnt skin in contact with air.
She was floating in mid air and among the dancing flame, body inclined slightly forward and legs crossed seductively. The same lazy smirk hanged around the corner of her blood red lips. He moved his face back toward the ceiling; he didn't wanted her face to be the last thing he saw.
"It would appear that your prey had ran away again. Disappointing, really. All this time, I had such high hopes for you."
If she was trying to extract the last bit of rage from him, it wasn't working very well. He was far too gone to care now. He really wished that she would just shut up. It wasn't a outrageous request, was it, especially from a dying man. Then again God had never listened to him before, so he really shouldn't expect otherwise.
"Why are you still here?" He groaned out.
"To watch you suffer. You killed my pet, which means you own me some good entertainment."
Of course. That made sense.
"And where is your charge? .....all this time you was so absorbed in my affair...."
"Ezekiel is safely tucked away. No one here is powerful enough to destroy the barrier."
"....my little sparrow is very resourceful."
He would always refer to Jack as his, because as long as Jack held on to the past, the pirate would never break away from his influence. He would haunt the man, and his ghost would stalk Jack into the sleepless nights. The pirate would belong to him, even just in the forms of hollow echoes of memory and the white etchings of old scars.
"If Ezekiel had awakened, I will know. He will be cross, and there will be fireworks because things will get blow up."
If she was uncertain, her voice didn't show it. This would be one last game between them, and he would have the demon played by his rules.
"Are you sure now? My men had informed me of another ship..."
She was interested now, as she swooped down and hovered just above him. The fire brushed across her fair skin like feathers and only complimented her radiance. She was clearly expecting an answer, and he stared stoically ahead.
After an eerie and portentous stillness, she giggled. Then with great leisure, she inserted one well manicured finger into the wound on his chest, scratched all the way down and pulled it out before licked off the bloody tissues. He gritted his teeth, but did not allow the moan to escape his throat. Her manner was patient, but her action betrayed the underlined urgency
"Another ship?"
"Oh, yes. The British navy."
"The navy?!"
One clawed hand was grasping his throat, and squeezed with almost savage force. He really wanted to laugh, but his windpipe was cut off, and he could managed nothing more than the next slurred out word.
"Dauntless."
The violet eyes widened as her mind sorted out the implication of that name. Doubt and suspicion flashed across her face and he felt the wave of almost childish accomplishment washed over him with vehemence. That one moment of fulfilling bliss blinded his senses and he didn't notice the sudden increase of force around his neck.
A snap.
Then there was nothing more.
~~~*~~~
Jack had always questioned fate's highly unhinged sense of humor, and he had been proven right time and time again.
Will and he had marveled as they managed to avoid bumping into anymore Vann's men. They were almost at the bottom of the hill when they met up with Gibbs and the others. Things were looking very well, that was until the navy crushed the party uninvited.
The standoff had lasted a good five minutes now, either parties was willing to waiver first. He admitted that their relationship couldn't exactly be labeled amicable, but did the commodore really had to chose today of all days to exercise his animosity towards pirates.
"You are all under arrest, pirates."
Norrington looked to be on the verge of swooning, face white, eminently against the deep indigo of his uniform collar. The man's affliction must had not been as severe as Jack predicted, judging by the heated glares and the angry demands both directed in his way. If the commodore had energy to shout, the man probably wasn't that bad off.
"I think not."
"I don't care what you think! Surrender, you have nowhere else to go."
"We are in mutual enemy territory here, commodore."
"Yes, but I have your ship, Sparrow, and a good number of your crew."
"Captain! Captain Sparrow, and ye can't expect me to believe that."
"Believe what you will, *Sparrow*, but Miss. Swann was most helpful and I suggest you do the same."
That was not funny, he contemplated darkly. However since the commodore wasn't known to be joking about anything, it was probably true. Damn. The lass knew then. Hell really paled in comparison to a woman's wrath. It was nothing personal, but right now he really wished that Zeke had finished Norrington off in Tortuga.
Will fidget nervously beside him. Anamarie scowled, and several red coats scowled back. He was pondering whether to make a break for it before the ground between them exploded.
Chaos followed.
He ducked as a ball of fire scudded pass his head; he rolled a few feet and into a nearby bush. Will was gaping at the sky, as were many others. He cursed, yelled for the others to take cover and yanked the youth down and dragged him into the bushes.
After he finally managed to catch a breath, he started scanning for the source of the danger. And there was Ursella, stood on the blackened earth where the fire had burned away a deep hole. Flame kindled, entwined with traces of silver lightening and twisted around her left arm like a snake. Each trail of fire and sparks crowned by the next, layer upon layer, until another orb was configured. She released the sphere; people screamed, dodged and dived in different directions. Her eyes were glowing dangerously, and she chastised them in a mildly annoyed tone.
"You are not getting away. Come out, come out."
Pistol were fired and swords were hailed her way, but none could so much so as graze the tip of her hair. As soon as the weapons came within close proximity of her, bullets would just glide away in an arc and the blades would be deflected off by an invisible wall. It was like there was some kind of impalpable sphere protecting her.
"I know you are here. Come out! .....fine, I'll just kill every last one of you."
She was growing profoundly angrier and her targets seemed to be sorely focused on the navy personal. The incandescent flare she wielded was picking them off one by one.
Another explosion and the commodore joined them in the bushes with an ungraceful sprawl. Norrington coughed, shoulders heaved and supported himself with his sword.
"What in the name of the God is going on here?!"
Jack observed unhelpful and somewhat malevolently, "I think ye might be the one she's looking for. Ex-girlfriend?"
"Don't be absurd! I've never seen her before in my life."
From somewhere, Anamarie gasped in pain then swore loudly. Will tensed and made as if to sprinted out. He hooked one leg beneath the boy's feet. Will tripped and slumped back down against the ground.
"You stay HERE." Then he turned toward Norrington, "temporary truce, commodore?"
A pause, then "all right.... but you are still under arrest."
"Sure, sure. Now, you distract her, and I'll sneak up on her from behind."
Norrington groaned out an affirmative, clearly not liking the ideas of either cooperating with the pirates or being the bait. A fire ball skimmed just pass their hiding place, her laughter reverberated in the air, and discombobulated the screaming masses even more.
"Now." Jack whispered harshly.
Norrington leaped up, and ran in the opposite direction as soon as he landed on his feet. The sudden movement caught Ursella's rampaging attention; her gaze chased the commodore, along with an array of explosions.
Jack grabbed the first sharp object in sight, which happened to be the dagger Will gave him, and hurled the knife at her vulnerable back. She swirled around with inhuman speed just in time to caught the blade between two fingers.
With a rueful smirk, she tossed the dagger aside and raised her hand. A strong gust of wind, and the ground split right in front of him. Steam spurted from the crack and he hastily flipped back. He landed in a crouch just as her hand raised to wave again.
Then she stopped. Gasped and looked down, the tip of a sword was thrust from her chest. Her step staggered and Norrington pulled out the sword from her back. She turned around slowly and glared.
"YOU! Of course, it's you, no one else could do this!"
Both of her hands were covering the hole on her chest. Something resembled black oil was seeping from between her fingers, and small trail of it was dripping from her mouth and down her chin. Jack fathomed that it must be her blood. She took a swing with one clawed hand and Norrington reeled back immediately, sword still held high.
"You are not taking him away again. This isn't over! He will send others!"
The ground shook and caved in beneath her feet. She fell but hanged onto the edge of the hollow void at the last second. Crevices and fissures of various sizes decorated the area around the cavity. Arms like tendrils burst out and encircled her, wrenching at her tight grips and towing her down.
"NO!" She struggled harder, "No! I will not go back!"
In response, a hideous roar resounded deep from the hole and a shadowy cape enveloped her entire body. In the next second, the orifice opened wider and swallowed her. The rifts retracted back like tentacles, and the ground returned to its previous flattened state.
Jack blinked, stared down in awe. All was quite now, other than a few hitching and the sound of steel dragged against the sand. Will rushed toward him and engulfed him in a bear hug. He breathed deep in the boy's sweet scent and bathed in the silent companionship before disentangled himself and raising his face. Only to found a sword, smeared with demon blood, pointed just below his chin.
Norrington said tiredly, "Like I said, pirate. You are still under arrest."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zeke: You like to snap people's neck and describe gory scenes in vivid details.... I think I am beginning to like you. Me: _
Just one more chapter to go now. Yes, Zeke will be back. I have it done, and I'll post it as soon as I get all the paragraphs sort out properly and add some final touch.