Disclaimer: I own laryngitis . . .this year keeps getting better and better . . .*sigh* . . .I wouldn't want to own Will or Jack at the moment because they'd definitely wind up with whatever I've got, and I wouldn't wish it on Michael . . .well, maybe Michael . . .
AN: I'm sick again! I'm never sick, and the fact I'm sick so often this year is downright horrible. I can't talk. Do you know how hard it is to communicate without speaking?! Everyone is like, "Oh, you can't talk, yes or no questions, right?" and then proceed to ask definitely not yes or no questions. Other than that, things are looking a bit up. My grandma is definitely a candidate for the procedure, and they think it'll do a lot of good for her. *crosses fingers* My uncle isn't doing so hot, but the doctors expected he wouldn't be, and while it's hard, it's getting easier to comprehend the fact that Death chases everyone and is eventually going to catch them, whether I claim them as family or not.
To Love and Protect
Part 12
Michael slowly rotated his sword, nearly mesmerized by the glint of light off the well-polished blade. It was almost impossible to tell that the sword had tasted blood . . .so very much blood . . .
The mercenary rested the sword on a well-worn scrap of cloth across his knees, grabbing a vial off the table next to him. Careful not to spill any on his own fingers, he slowly worked his way along the blade, drenching one side before turning it over, careful only to touch the hilt, and drenching the other side. Warily folding the cloth around his sword, he gingerly set it aside to dry before dribbling a few drops of the poison into his scabbard.
After all the different poisons he had used, his scabbard was probably just as deadly as the sword itself now was . . .or as his sword would be, given time to dry so that it would not be a danger to the mercenary himself. Then all that would be needed was pirate's blood to transfer the poison and ensure Michael's own safety.
Michael had never understood the horror with which most people looked upon poisons, either on a blade or in another form. The mercenary was intelligent enough to know that he would, at least once in his life, meet someone who was a better swordsman than he was . . .someone like Sparrow or Turner. He had never been exceptional with a blade, and being a decent shot didn't come close to making up for it, the necessity to stop and reload making it an inefficient way to fight.
As for it being dishonorable to fight with a poisoned blade . . .Why should he be worried about something like honor, another strange concept that he had never really liked? Besides, only the 'civilized' European fools thought it was more 'honorable' to hack a man to pieces and let him die suffering when a few well-placed cuts with a blade like Michael's would put them out of their misery very quickly.
Very quickly. All he needed to do draw blood, and a half-hour later, at the most, the pirate would be dead.
Wolfbane . . .monkshood . . .whatever you wanted to call it, it was effective, there could be no doubt about that. He had watched it work before, watched his opponent slow his attack as he first burned and then froze, sweating and shivering at the same time.
The first time he used the poison, he had observed as the man . . .a sailor, that was who it had been, a poor bastard of a sailor . . .retched and screamed and shivered and choked on his own spittle, begging the mercenary to end the game and kill him then and there. It had only been minutes before the man stopped writhing, staring at Michael with panicked eyes as his breathing became shallower and shallower and finally stopped.
It had been quite fascinating, really, quite educational. He hadn't had the opportunity to watch since then, as he refused to allow himself the joy of watching if there was even the slightest chance that it would endanger his life or his assignment.
Death might be good, but money was definitely better.
Maybe Hallson would let him watch the pirate die.
He hadn't used wolfbane on the Pearl, the poison being precious and his supply too limited to waste on an entire crew. That had been a combination of belladonna and hemlock, and it had taken his entire supply to ascertain that the watch was subdued and the crew kept quiet while Michael worked. If he had had enough, they would all have been dead before Hallson even came within range.
It wasn't quite so fascinating to watch men die from belladonna or hemlock. Belladonna would occasionally bring about a state of madness as it started working, and more than once his victims had attacked him viciously and bitterly, believing him to be someone else entirely, some dark figure from their nightmares. They soon stopped, though, often before he could even determine exactly who he was supposed to be, and then they merely lay on the ground, their eyes black pits with faint rings of color, until the beating of their hearts and the rising of their chests had fallen so low that life was unsustainable. Hemlock didn't even provide the madness. Those victims merely went from slightly ill to catatonic to dead within an hour.
No, it wasn't nearly as fascinating to watch men die that way, and they very rarely were even aware Michael was watching them, robbing him of the pleasure of seeing them realize their bitter mortality.
There were other poisons Michael used, or would like to use, given the opportunity. His own arsenal contained toxins derived from jimsonweed, the tried and true friend of murderers for several hundred years, with the death being remarkably similar to that caused by nightshade; several from the castor plant, another one able to cause fascinating death, with first nausea and headache, then dementia and disorientation, and finally a series of seizures leading to slow death; azalea extracts, also starting with vomiting but with an added cough, ending in seizures, coma and death.
The Spanish carried tales of barbarians to the south who used a new poison, a black tar that could kill a man within seconds of contact with his blood, but was unable to even cause illness if merely left on the skin. The mercenary had not had a chance to hunt down this new drug . . .curare, was that what they were calling it? It would be a welcome addition to his arsenal. The African barbarians also coated their weapons with a deadly poison, though it was not so effective as curare. Michael wouldn't mind testing that one, either, or the venoms that tales said men collected from snakes in India that were as long as a good-sized fishing boat.
Then there were the toxins that caused psychosis and illness but not death. While fascinating in their effects, they were usually of little use to the mercenary, though he kept them just in case.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, Michael folded the cloth away from the blade, careful to touch only the very edges, not wanting to inadvertently touch the poison and give it the opportunity to find some nick in his own skin to crawl through. Grasping the sword by the hilt, he picked it up and with an expert flick of his wrist sent the few extra drops that had not dried flying off the tip of the blade. He stared at the sword for a moment, smiling slightly with satisfaction, before returning it to its sheath and strapping the sheath to his side again.
He was ready now for whatever tonight might bring.
* * *
"Really, love, it isn't anything to get upset about." Jack grinned at the female pirate, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the table as he watched her pace back and forth. Will leaned against the wall, his arm around Elizabeth, watching the scene with fascination, keeping his mind as clear as he could so he could see what Jack was feeling. Despite the relaxed air that the pirate exuded, and the humor that was definitely in his thoughts, there was an underlying current of uncertainty and tension that Will would never have suspected would be present. He wondered briefly if Jack even knew it was there.
Ana-Maria stopped to stare at the pirate. "I'm not upset." Her eyes were worried and gentle as she stared at her captain. "At least not at you." Her gaze hardened as it turned to meet Will's eyes, though she still spoke to Jack. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but ye seemed t' be havin' enough problems in yer own head lately without invitin' someone else in."
"It isn't Will's fault, love, it's mine, if you're trying to lay blame. I was hurting and I reached for help. As for my sanity or lack thereof, a ground can't hurt too much, now can it?"
Ana-Maria turned back to the pirate captain. "Was it grounding that he was doing last night? Was that helping you?" She dropped her gaze and resumed her pacing.
Jack took his feet off the table and stood in one fluid movement, walking over to the female pirate and lifting her chin so he could stare at her eyes, no trace of pain showing on his face. Will winced for him as he felt the echoes over the link.
"He didn't know what he was doing, love. Things aren't going so well around here, and he was upset and worried and he fixed it once he realized what was happening."
Ana-Maria's voice was quiet and filled with pain. "They could have told me."
Elizabeth spoke up from her place at Will's side. "We didn't really know anything until this morning. Will thought it would be better to tell Jack first."
Jack gently brushed stray hairs away from her face. "Ye trust me, don't ye?"
The female pirate nodded, raising one hand to his cheek. "Aye, Jack, I trust ye."
Will smiled as love and gratitude flooded across the link that he was carefully holding open. Jack's head tilted slightly to the side, and he grinned.
"Then trust me to handle this. It could be a good thing, a very good thing." The pirate captain leaned forward, placing his head next to her ear and whispering. "Besides, I know how to drown him out now . . .and I know how to make him stop listening." Jack swiftly leaned closer and nipped her ear, keeping his head by hers and grabbing her in a tight hug to prevent her from slapping him.
"Jack!" Will knew that he was blushing as he allowed his mind to fill again with anything that he thought would be safe. The pirate was taking far too much joy in finding any way that he could to make the blacksmith feel uncomfortable. When Will had tried earlier to return the favor, Jack just laughed at his efforts.
The pirate captain grinned at Will as he released Ana-Maria. "Oh, aye, this is going to be so very, very interesting."
* * *
"Damn him! Damn him, damn him, damn him, damn him!" Brian yanked the powdered wig from atop his head and hurled it at the blank stone walls of his quarters, resisting the urge to kick it as it bounced back towards him before settling down with a sigh and a puff of white on the flagstone floor.
"Who're we damning now, cap'n?" The young man looked up in surprise, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the other officer leaning against the doorframe.
"Rollin. So kind of you to knock. I think you have a very good idea who I'm damning."
"You kind of left the door open, lad. Not the brightest thing you've ever done. And yes, I think I know who you're damning."
Brian sighed. No, it definitely wasn't the brightest thing he had ever done, and James Norrington would have chewed him up one side and down the other for being careless. His men didn't need to see their captain throwing a temper tantrum like a little child.
Come to think of it, he had been doing a lot of things lately that James wouldn't have been too thrilled with. Maybe he should just have become a pirate and been done with politics . . .not that he relished the thought of being stranded on a deserted island, either.
"Why don't you come in and close the door?"
"Why?"
"For starters, because I still wish to damn the man, and I also wish to change out of uniform and would rather do it without the entire fort being able to see."
"Not that I think we shouldn't damn Hallson, but what exactly are we damning him for this time?" Rollin didn't move from his place in the doorway.
"He's sending the Intrepid out again tomorrow. We'll barely have time to re-provision, and the men . . .damn it, they were supposed to get at least a weeks worth of shore duty, more likely a month. Some of them have families. He could take the Defender out, or just send Jenkin with the ship if he doesn't feel like leaving the garrison, or he could rearrange the crews so that at least the men with families can stay ashore, but do you think he listens to me when I try to tell him this? I swear the man hates me."
"Then you'd be right. And I wouldn't change out of uniform, lad. You can't go down to the Turners' tonight."
Brian slowly drew himself up to his full height. "Who are you to tell me where I can and can't go?"
"You can't go tonight to see the Turners. Not if you value your life. It will be much easier if you simply stay in the fort, lad."
"Don't refer to me as a lad, Lieutenant. I am your superior officer, and as of this moment I am acting only as a superior officer. Come in and close the door." The other man did as he was told, apparently completely unperturbed by the change from camaraderie to icy command that had taken place in the space of a few seconds. "Now, why will my life be in danger if I go to see the Turners?"
"Hallson knows who it is you brought back with you, and he knows that he's at the Turners'."
"Who is it that I supposedly brought back with me, Lieutenant?"
"A pirate captain and his whore, sir. That's who we pulled from the water . . .the ones who disappeared yesterday. You had to know who they were . . .not that I'm judging you, sir. I know you have good reasons for everything you do."
"Who told him that they were a pirate captain and a . . .whore?" Brian managed not to choke as he forced the word out. He pitied the man who said that to Ana-Maria's face.
"Michael, sir. The man that the Defender picked up. I'm sure you've heard from Hallson about how the Pearl was brought in."
"Aye, I have, and I heard the rumors, as well. A mercenary, an assassin, a traitor, a murderer . . .none of the men like this Michael, though they can't seem to decide what he is."
"If I had to guess, I would say all of the above."
"How do you know these things?" Brian slipped out of his coat as he talked, turning his back on Rollin as he began unbuttoning his shirt. If Hallson did know that Jack was alive, he needed to warn the pirate.
"Crallon was on guard duty outside Hallson's office when Michael went to see him. Apparently both men forgot that no matter how much a soldier on guard duty resembles a statue, they don't have a statue's deaf ears. Lad, you can't go there."
The sound of a pistol being cocked caused Brian's entire body to freeze. Turning slowly, he found himself face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol, Rollin's finger hovering over the trigger.
"You would shoot me to keep me here?"
"Hallson is looking for a reason to get you for treason. He'll have it if he finds you with them. I won't let you wreck all of the plans for a bloody pirate, sir."
Brian's hands slowly fell to his sides. "You're one of them."
"One of who, sir?"
"One of the ones planning the uprising."
"Only since this morning, sir. The man is a menace to himself and to us. He needs to be gotten rid of."
"You can't keep me here at gun-point all day."
"If it means your life and our hope, I shall."
"You're mad."
"No. You are the one that they will follow, all of them. They trust you, the officers and the sailors and the soldiers and the townspeople. You're a damn fine commander, sir, no matter how young you are, and we won't let him have you."
"Aye, so fine a commander that I find myself being held at gun-point in my own quarters by one of my own officers."
"If I didn't have a gun pointed at you, would you have stayed to hear beyond the fact that Turner and Sparrow are in trouble?"
"No." Brian inched his hand closer to his own pistol, keeping his breathing slow and steady.
"Would you shoot me, sir? If you do, lad, they'll never let you leave to go help your friends. There isn't even anything that you can do. Hallson already left with a group of soldiers from the Defender."
Brian's hand halted its slow movement. "Did anyone warn Turner?"
"We didn't get the chance. I'm sorry, lad. I know they were your friends."
"Are. Are my friends, and don't you damn well ever say else."
The other officer didn't answer, merely staring at Brian with eyes filled with pity, compassion, and hope.
Oh, damn it, he should just have gone into piracy. It was by far the safer profession.
* * *
Michael fell to the back of the group of half-a-dozen mounted soldiers, eyeing them just as warily as they were eyeing him. The most blood-hungry men in the garrison, and even they shared the same mistrust of him. It was getting downright annoying.
Hallson had seemed surprised to see the mercenary, simply gesturing him towards the others with one hand while his other wove abstract patterns in the air. The man was definitely losing it. Not that Michael really cared, so long as he got his pay, and his pay he would get, whether he lifted a finger or not. This could actually be to his advantage. He could stand back and watch the others take care of Sparrow, risking no injury to himself.
Then again, he might cut Sparrow, simply to get the pleasure of watching the man die. It had been quite a while since he had the pleasure of simply watching, without fear of interruption . . .
"When we get there, don't even knock. Break down the door, if you have to, but get the pirate and the whore and, if you can, Turner and Lanebridges. Does everyone understand?"
Hallson's chosen team muttered different variations of 'yes', and the commodore nodded briefly, eyes bright, before leading the way through the deepening twilight, again muttering to himself, though no one approached near enough to comprehend what he was saying.
* * *
"Jack, be careful." Will watched with a growing sense of trepidation as the pirate captain parried blows from both his son and his daughter, the two children giggling as they pressed their 'advantage'. The main room of the house had been basically cleared of furniture, and Will, Elizabeth and Ana-Maria watched with varying levels of concern from the doorway to the master bedroom.
"I am being careful, Will. I won't hurt them." The pirate flicked Ana's sword out of the way just in time to dodge a clumsy strike by young Jack.
"It's not the children I'm all that worried about."
The pirate laughed, and both children broke off their attack to stare reproachfully at their father. "Uncle Jacky wouldn't hurt us, and we wouldn't hurt him, huh, Ana? We're good swordsmen . . .women . . .people."
"What have I been telling ye for the last five years about my name, demon?"
"Sorry." The boy grinned, lifting his sword and playful striking out at the pirate. Jack returned the grin, dodging easily, maneuvering so when Ana again joined the fray, her blade intersected with her brother's and locked there as the pirate backed away.
For a split second, the two children stared at each other, completely confused, before they turned with a mock battle cry and jumped at Jack. The pirate allowed them to back him into a corner, purposefully dropping his guard lower and lower until finally both children had their blades at his neck. Will couldn't help smiling at the look of sheer delight on their sweaty, red faces as they saw that they had 'beaten' the pirate, who was staring at their swords with mock dismay as he struggled not to laugh.
"You trained them well, Will, Elizabeth."
"Thank you, Jack."
"Would you mind calling off the attack dogs now?"
"I don't know, considering I didn't set them on you in the first place, and the fact that it'll be much easier to keep you out of trouble if you're stuck in the corner, it might just be simpler to leave you there." Will grinned as exasperation again made itself known across the link. It wasn't nearly enough payback for everything Jack had been sending his way for the past twelve hours, but it was a start.
The sound of metal tearing free of wood sounded through the room as the door collapsed inward. Before Will had even drawn his sword, Jack had both children in the corner and was standing in front of them, his pistol cocked in his left hand.
A soldier stepped into the room, followed closely by Hallson and six more people.
"What in God's name is the meaning of this, sir?"
Hallson smiled at him, a gleam in his eyes that Will had never seen. "I believe the answer to that is standing in front of your two darling children, don't you? Ah, and there's the second part, standing by your lovely wife. My my, what company we keep, a pirate captain and a whore . . .whatever will the children learn? Is Lanebridges here?"
Ana-Maria had stiffened perceptively, her dark eyes narrowing as she drew her own sword and pistol. Will felt Jack's rage keenly, but he was able to return it this time with a bit of rage and bloodlust of his own. The man had just invaded his house, insulted his friends, and seemed to be threatening his children.
"No, he isn't, and you have no right to be here. What proof do you have that he's a pirate?"
"Have him pull back his sleeve, then, and you'll see. Or, if you'd rather like a witness . . ." Hallson gestured behind him, and a man stepped forward, his sword still in its scabbard but a pistol held firmly in his left hand.
"I thought I left you to die, Jack. Or are you too good to go down with your ship? I'm sure she misses you."
Will fought the urge to blink and reel back as Jack's hatred and bloodlust again invaded his mind, stronger, surer, more defined than before. The blacksmith spared a glance over at the pirate, certain he must have launched himself at the traitor with the intent to tear him to shreds.
Jack merely grinned, though his eyes were hard and cold, swaying in his characteristic way as he kept himself between the children and the invaders. "I thought it was a bit too damp and cold with the fish, is all. Hell wasn't all that it's cracked up to be, either."
Hallson's skin seemed to pale. "Give them up, Turner, and maybe I'll let your wife and children go free."
"You'll not have them, anyway."
"Two men against eight? Hardly odds to stake your family on." Will paused, staring uncertainly at Hallson and his soldiers. He could possibly take two or three, if they weren't exceedingly well-skilled and didn't shoot, and Jack maybe two at the moment, but eight?
"Four against eight is better odds, though, is it not?" Will glanced at Ana-Maria and Elizabeth, who had ducked into the bedroom and returned with another sword and a pistol. He might not have caught the paranoia about locking the door, but he was far happier when weapons were within easy reach of his or his wife's hand at all times, and he was very grateful for that fact now.
Hallson shrugged. "Take the children."
To say that chaos erupted would have been an understatement. The soldiers divided into two groups, one facing Jack, the others fending off Will, Elizabeth and Ana-Maria as they attacked from the other side. Will noted that the mercenary had slipped to the back, drawing his sword but doing little else.
A shot sounded, and one of the redcoats near Jack dropped, blood immediately beginning to pool beneath him. Another blast near him told Will that Ana-Maria had also fired her weapon. A third shot seemed to be the mercenary's weapon, but no one appeared to be hit.
For some reason the soldiers seemed reluctant to fire their own rifles, instead using them as clubs or using the bayonets. Perhaps they feared shooting their own men. Perhaps they still had some sort of honor. Either way, it gave the desperate parents at least a hope that they could reach their children and keep them safe.
Will reeled back in shock as pain exploded across the link, an agony the likes of which he had only felt as he broke free from Nerla. Ana-Maria was screaming something that sounded like definite threats to the soldiers', the traitor's, and Hallson's manhood as Jack staggered against the wall, his left hand pressed against his head as a bloodstain spread with frightening rapidity along the bandage. A second blow send the pirate captain to the floor, the pain flooding across the link abruptly cut off, though Will could tell that the pirate still lived.
The soldier screamed in shock as Will's children both lunged forward, their swords, just as sharp as any others that Will had ever made, biting deeply into his leg and stomach. A backhand smack caught Ana across the face, sending her flying to the side, while young Jack stood uncertainly over the fallen pirate, gazing in shock at the crimson blood on his blade as the soldier collapsed in front of him.
Will realized abruptly that Ana-Maria had stopped yelling and that the soldiers had drawn back from him, their rifles leveled and cocked. The female pirate was slumped behind the line of soldiers, unconscious, and though Elizabeth had managed to reach Ana, both his son and the pirate captain were out of his reach.
"The people would have been furious if I killed your children, Will Turner, but if I take a murderer, well, that's another matter. Where's Lanebridges?"
"Not here, damn you! What the hell do you want?"
"I have part of what I want. Take these to the brig." One of the soldiers slowly moved away and lifted Ana-Maria over his shoulder as though she weighed nothing before backing out of the room. Two others moved towards the pirate captain and Will's son, swiftly disarming the boy and delivering unnecessary kicks to the unconscious pirate before dragging both outside.
That left Hallson, who hadn't drawn a weapon yet, the mercenary, who had already fired his shot and missed, and a third soldier, who was bleeding heavily from his shoulder and swaying as he attempted to keep his rifle aimed at the other captives. The sound of hoofbeats outside told Will that the soldiers who had exited previously were already heading back to the fort.
The soldier guarding them suddenly slumped to the ground. Before Will was entirely sure what was happening, Elizabeth was in front of him, the pistol she had saved cocked and pointed directly at Hallson's head.
"Get the hell out of my house, you bloody bastard."
For a moment, the man didn't seem to comprehend what had happened. His left hand continued to draw abstract patterns in the air as his right contracted, as though pulling the trigger on an invisible gun. "Michael?"
"He already used his shot, and he hasn't had a chance to reload yet, have you, Michael? Get the hell out of my house before I kill you."
The mercenary had already darted out the door. The commodore smiled and nodded, turning as though leaving an interesting ball or political function. "I'll see you again, I'm sure, Will Turner. This was fun tonight, was it not? Tell Lanebridges I know what he's up to, yes, I do, and I won't let it happen. And people don't come back from the dead when their necks are broken and their bodies burned, now do they?"
Elizabeth stood with the pistol aimed at the door until the sound of hooves died away.
"You should have killed him."
"I would have. It isn't loaded."
Will nodded, staring at the blood and the bodies lying on the floor of his house. "He'll be back."
"We should leave."
"We'll get him back, Elizabeth. I promise."
"I know."
Silence reigned as Will and Elizabeth changed clothes, helped Ana to change clothes and wiped the blood from her face and hands, and left, Will searching his mind for a safe haven.
Responses to Reviews:
Hollow-Ambitions: Hmmm . . .Johnny would have the harder acting part, but he's also the more accomplished actor, and I think he could do it (assuming he didn't decide to change the script, character, and meaning, as he is wont to do). I haven't gotten to see much of Orlando acting, just LotR and PotC, but he might be able to pull off Will's part. It would a tricky bit of acting, for both men, and they'd have to complement each other exactly right to keep it from seeming forced. I think they could pull it off, though. Might take a couple shoots, but they could do it.
Empress Ariana: I'm flattered. I'm going to keep writing. I've found I couldn't quit even if I wanted to . . .which I really don't, though it sometimes seems like I should. Anyway, hope you like the update.
Lavender Wonder: Glad you're getting less confused all the time! The last chapter was supposed to have some amusing parts, to counter-act all the non-amusing parts that I've had, and of course you're special! Can you tell how Robert's going to be a good thing/problem though? Maybe, at the end of this chapter, you have an idea. Does the Jack Sparrow Theme Song have words that may be shared with everyone?
Christina: Sorry? *whimpers and hides under bed, realizes she can't type there, whimpers and hides under computer chair with keyboard* I guess suspense/cliff-hangers can get a bit . . .annoying. However, that's how I was taught to write. You'll probably be more ticked at the end of this chapter . . .*the above was all in good fun—I know you wouldn't lynch me . . .yet* ;-)
Elf-Vulcan: Oh, yes, poor Will. Will is going to appreciate the link, though, in . . .two chapters, I believe it shall be. Yes, he will greatly appreciate it. Jack will appreciate it next chappie, at least a little bit. Okay, enough spoilers. Maybe I should stop answering reviews . . .then I wouldn't be tempted to give spoilers.
JackFan2: I would love to be a writer on the side, but I couldn't handle the stress of writing full-time. Sorry for making your husband doubt your sanity. ;-) Glad you liked the humor. It took me a bit to get it just as I wanted it. Does this last fight scene count as an epic battle scene? Yes, there will be several more battle scenes in the future, though. Whether you'll like the ending of the last one . . .is not something I'm allowed to say. The muse just woke up and is threatening me with a butcher knife if I give any more spoilers.
Belia: When I started my first one, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to finish that. Usually the ff plots dancing in my head have a middle, but no beginning and no ending, so imagine my surprise when two full fics came out (it was quite great). When I started this one, it wasn't anywhere near this complex (no link, no Brian, no Hallson, no Rollin, no Robert). Then, when the link appeared and just wouldn't go away, I cried for a few minutes, got up my courage, and turned to my interest in the supernatural for an answer. Three is a popular number in superstition, and is usually connected with good things (four is often connected with death). A quick 'net search confirmed that this superstition travels across myriad cultural bounds (which is quite odd), so I figured I could use it to explain my muses ramblings, and it apparently worked. *sighs in relief* Glad you like the story, and my Jack-talk, which is something I try to make believable. As for responding to reviews . . .it's fun.
Cal: After reading this chapter, do you think it's foreshadowing? (The previous is said happily, not sarcastically, please don't get upset!) Wow. I seem to have inspired a great deal of loathing for my villains. Note to self: want original villain hated, have him call strong female character a whore. At the moment he has the upper hand, so they won't be cutting Michael into bitty pieces for a while, at least. Glad you liked so much of the last chapter, that it was believable, and I hope you like Ana-Maria's reaction to the link.
Runaround: Very cool! Where I live, we basically only have small-animal clinics nearby, where I go and do mentorships (my computers suggestion for this word is 'mentor's hips' . . .gotta love Gate's . . .probably wouldn't be so amusing if I wasn't currently in Jack-thought-mode rather than sick-teenager-mode), but I've tossed around the idea of going into exotics.
Erinya: Yes, Michael deserves to die. He is a sick, twisted, intelligent man who enjoys death but loves money more . . .and he lives in my head . . .I'm starting to frighten myself now. ;-) Yep, definitely need to make that note about calling strong female characters whores gets the one who did the name-calling an excellent amount of hatred. Glad you liked the bloodlust part, that took a bit of re-writing to get just the way I wanted it, and then I wasn't sure what others would think. As for everyone being all right in the end . . .this is un-evolving from arc-ending . . .I'm shutting up now, as the butcher knife has now become a broadsword and is remarkably close to my jugular, with the muse whispering threats to implant it in my jugular if I don't stop with the spoilers (but I know how the fic will go now and it is such as amazing thing and I want to share my joy and insane thoughts and . . .*stab* . . .blood is very red . . .shutting up now).
ErinRua: Hello, fearless leader! (Bloody x-men sneaking in again . . .sorry . . .just got to re-read the comics 'cause I'm sick . . .I love Scott . . .) Getting back to topic, I'm glad you liked the humor. I was trying to strike a balance with humor and seriousness because the fic is going to get a lot darker soon. Ah . . .the broadsword just became a chain saw . . .shutting up again. As for Michael, yes, definitely a jerk, but a sane (relatively) jerk. Hallson . . .he he he . . .I like the term 'loose cannon', yes, that is definitely what he is.
Starzangel: Lots of writing . . .yes. Great . . .hmmm . . .matter of opinion and taste. Am I really that mean to Jack, that any time trouble comes he has to get hurt? *Looks guiltily up at latest chapter* Maybe I need to find some counseling of my own about torturing my favorite characters . . .Hope you liked the last chapter, Jack-injuring and all.
Ginny-Star: Yeah, took me a few seconds to figure out what 'moory' was, too, but then I got it. I can understand tired-typos very well, so it's fine. Glad you liked the chapter length.
Tari Troi: He didn't mean to. He apologized. He'll make up for it, I promise. Please don't injure him too badly, as he is necessary to the plot for at least a few more chapters. Hope you liked the latest chapter.
Kissravyn: Thanks for all three reviews! I'm glad you're impressed. I can't wait to write the rest now that I've actually got a (semi-) workable plot in this little head o' mine.
Greenleaf-In-Bloom: Oh, yeah, the plot just keeps getting thicker . . .it's going to be a mess to unravel. I think Jack agrees with you about the link. ;-)
Zinnith: Hmmm . . .they have to fight Ana-Maria for more intimate parts, as she already called dibs on cutting those off when they hurt Jack, but an ear might work . . .then he'd be sort of like Van Gough . . .not really . . .though they'd both be crazy and one-eared. Isn't work a pain? I have a lot of real schoolwork awaiting me . . .should probably go do that . . .don't want to, though . . .have to, though . . .can't just slack off senior year . . .
Rinkufan: Yeah, Jack took it pretty well, but he'd already had some experience with it, and Will had just given him the mental equivalent of a sucker-punch, so he was ready to believe. I love CSI, too . . .so much . . .though Grissom now has facial hair . . .not Grissomish, at least in my opinion, but it might work . . .
Kanaloa: Glad. ;-)
