A/N: Yay, the wait wasn't too long, was it? Hope not. _; Um, ya, the song 'Faint' is by Linkin Park…however, I didn't use any song lyrics for this chapter; I just punked the name off them. :P So, um, enjoy! Especially if you like seeing Jack get smacked, you bunch of weirdos…~_^ Lol.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean(though I wish I did), Jack Sparrow(wish did once again), nor any other character from this kick-ass movie. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this fic; I'd be making another movie. And hanging out with Johnny Depp. I have yet to see a pig fly over my house wearing a tutu either. So, no sueing, please?
Summary: Will is living happily with his newly wed wife, Elizabeth. But when someone from Jack's foggy past comes, sworn to have revenge on Jack Sparrow, he and Jack must stick by the truth and their friendship in order to survive.
~Tell No Lies~
~Chapter 5~
~Faint~
Jack Sparrow was actually relieved when he flopped down on his bed, even though he would have rather been steering The Black Pearl. His ankle felt like it was on fire and every time he moved or put pressure on it, the pain would ignite. Of course, he never wanted to show it- he was Captain Jack Sparrow, the infamous pirate captain of The Black Pearl, and he was definitely not weak. Sure sometimes he would get captured and get into a bunch of trouble, narrowly escaping with his life, but even when he was called the worst pirate ever, he had yet to hear people call him weak. And he wanted to keep it that way.
Jack eventually dozed off, boots, coat, effects, and hat still on, when he heard a noise. His brown eyes snapped open and he frowned to himself. What was that? That better not have been the whelp…
No. The silence that followed didn't seem right. Something was out of place.
Night had fallen. It was too dark to see clearly anywhere. Jack lifted his head slightly, his kohl-rimmed eyes scanning through the blackness that invaded his vision. Then he heard another crash.
Jack now sat up fully in his bed, wide awake. The pirate captain reached for his cutlass, ready to defend himself from his invisible invader.
Then, it attacked.
It lunged for Jack before he could even stand up, which wouldn't have done much good for him anyway. Jack yelped when he was pushed back and slammed against a wall, it's body on top of his. His saw a shadow aiming for his head, but he didn't allow it to go any further; he grabbed its wrist, then the other when it raced towards him.
Jack gritted his teeth, trying to hold his attacker back. He was eventually able to win the battle of strengths and pushed it off him. He realized then that he had been flung into a standing position across the room, and his ankle trembled under him, barely holding his weight. He took a step forward and fell flat on his face. "Oh, bugger," he muttered to himself.
His attacker didn't waste any time. It dived at him, and in order to defend himself, Jack grabbed the first thing he felt- which happened to be a candle that had fallen from his bedside table in the struggle- and chucked it at the intruder.
It growled in pain, the deepness in its voice suggesting it was a man, and he recoiled. Jack quickly got up, careful not to stand fully on his bad ankle. Jack punched furiously at him, hitting him somewhere between his head and his stomach. But, the force of the punch was too much Jack's lack of balance and he toppled over with a grunt. "Dammit," he swore angrily.
His attacker was growling in pain, but his anger fueled him; he grabbed for Jack again, this time by the scruff of his neck. Without a second thought, Jack twisted his head so that he could bite his hand. His attacker yelped in pain but didn't let go, and pressed a bit into Jack's neck, pinching him, but Jack wouldn't let go either. The pirate captain was starting to be able to taste copper, the intruder's blood. Both their grunts of exertion and pain filled the room like the humming of a colony of bees.
The invisible intruder, now very flustered, carried Jack towards the wall quickly. Jack's back slammed against the wall, but the pain of the force did not make him let go; he used his grubby hands to try and push the attacker back from him, and even started flailing his legs in an attempt to blindly kick him. But he wouldn't give up either.
He now stole a pattern of slamming Jack against the wall aggressively, Jack's head banging against it; hard. Pain exploded in the back of Jack's head and against his wishes was forced to let go. He continued to bash Jack against the wall, his head getting brutally beaten. As much as he wanted to slice the attacker with his cutlass for his treachery of intruding his territory on The Black Pearl and attacking him, Jack never found out when he stopped because consciousness soon left him.
~*~
The first thing Jack noticed when consciousness slowly returned was a dull pain in both his head and his ankle. The ankle wasn't anything new, but he had a hard time remembering where the headache came from. He could smell and taste old blood.
When he slowly opened his deep brown eyes, shapes didn't make sense. He let them register, when he realized he was in a cave. Gee, how convenient. He wondered if he was on the Isle de Muerta. If he was, where was all of the pretty treasure?
With a groan, Jack tried to move his sluggish arms. When they didn't move, he suddenly felt the cold metal on his wrists; shackles. He was shackled against a cave wall in a slouched standing position.
With this new information, everything hit him like a tidal wave; the sea battle, the struggle in his room…the intruder who brought him here…
"So, the traitor finally awakens. I was beginnin' to wonder if those knocks on the head were too much for yer simple brain." Speak of the devil…
Jack averted his throbbing head to look up at the face of his kidnapper; it was Jones, and he looked pissed. No wonder, his wrist and palm of his hand was covered with a cloth bandage, the blood still soaking through, and he had a gash on his already scarred cheek. No doubt they were from Jack's attacks.
"Jones? Yer alive?" Jack slurred.
"What? Were ye hopin' I was dead?" Jones replied coldly.
Jack closed his eyes for a moment while he breathed out. He opened his eyes and reasoned, "Look, mate, first off, I had no real intention to kill ye; ye attacked me, and I was simply defendin' meself. Second, I never did want to kill ye. Savvy?" Even though he couldn't move his arms effectively while he talked, he was still able to use his head and fingers for effect.
Jones chuckled. "Ye know, after all this time, yer still stickin' to yer old lies. How sad."
"And yer still stickin' to yer old hallucinations," Jack shot back.
"Yer in no position to be mouthy, Sparrow,"
"Well, this isn't a good position to be in anyway; I'd rather be hog-tied than up 'gainst this wall here. It's too damn cold." The slap across Jack's face sent him reeling and the world lost colour for a moment. When he adjusted back to normal sight and feeling, he could taste fresh blood in his mouth; his blood. Jack glanced back at Jones, who was cherry red with anger. "Wow, that was a good one. Have ye been hangin' with the lasses in Tortuga lately?"
It wasn't an insult, an inquiry more. But Jones seemed to think it was an insult. It looked like Jones was going to deck Jack again, but he calmed down and turned away for a moment. "How I would love to see ye writhe in agony for what ye did to me. I would love to see yer life slip away in my hands while I laugh. And justice will be served yet."
"What the bloody 'ell are ye ramblin' 'bout?" frowned Jack, "Listen, mate, if I betrayed and tried to kill ye, I'd be a hypocrite. An' Captain Jack Sparrow is not a hypocrite. Savvy?"
"Then I brand ye a hypocrite an' a liar," hissed Jones, turning to face Jack. His flaming angry green eyes bore into Jack's kohl-rimmed brown eyes, but the captain of The Black Pearl's confidence did not waver.
"Yer credibility's low, mate, since yer a bloody nutter and I should know what I do," Jack slurred, swaying about like a cobra.
"Yer just as crazy," snarled Jones, "but at least I'm honest to my friends, or at least former friends."
"Now what kind of a pirate is honest?"
"A crappy one. I admit I'm not the best pirate…not yet, anyway."
"Ah, yes, but see, everyone calls me the 'worst pirate they ever heard of'. Now, according to ye, a crappy pirate is an honest one. So, then yer sayin' I'm honest, which mean that I'm not lyin' when I say I didn't try to kill an' betray ye." Explained silver-tongued Jack. How he loved to play mind games with people; somehow it was so easy, and the results were very amusing.
Then Jones really did deck Jack. "Just 'cause yer a crappy pirate, don't mean yer a saint either!" hissed Jones.
"Never said I was, luv," Jack replied, moving his tongue around his gums to make sure none of his gold teeth we dislodged.
"Well, ye better not be thinkin' it, neither,"
Jack chuckled to himself. "Sorry, mate, but even if I did think it, ye can't control me thoughts."
It was Jones' turn to smirk. He looked like a cheetah about to go in for the kill, and Jack was the antelope. "Ye underestimate me, Sparrow,"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"I didn't bring ye here to torture ye if that's what yer thinkin'. No; I have plans…plans for revenge."
"But isn't torture technically a form of revenge?" Jack asked curiously.
"Well, yes, but what I'm plannin' will put me at peace of mind for the cases of you an' the Turner boy." Jones smirked back awfully.
Jack frowned a bit. "And how do ye expect to pull a stunt like that out of yer arse?"
Jones sighed over-dramatically like a really bad actor. "It's such a complicated matter. I can only guess if ye'll understand it fully. But, if it'll amuse ye, I'll explain it in small words." He inched closer to Jack, and began his story.
"When we were still lads on The Phantom, there was a time I went into a pub alone. There, I met a man who wanted to talk with me about something. Next thing I know, I'm robbed blind and I didn't know why."
"Well, I always knew ye were always bad with common sense, mate,"
Jones ignored Jack and continued, "How it happened, I didn't know how. I couldn't remember it well, so I tracked down the scurvy dog. I spared his life in exchange for me gold and the secret of how he robbed me in the first place. Turned out his had hypnotized me, plantin' me mind full of images long enough to rob me. After that, I learned 'bout hypnosis, fascinated by it. I learned how to do it, and ye can guess what'll happen from there."
Jack frowned deeper. "Yer gonna hypno-thingy me? Into killin' Will? Sorry, mate, not gonna happen," Jack shook his head. That guy was probably the one who made Jones so paranoid against me, he thought to himself. He glanced up at the smirking Jones, no liking his expression one bit.
"Not only will you kill Turner, Sparrow, but as soon as yer done, I'm gonna kill ye meself while yer still vunerable. Kill two birds with one stone," Jones chuckled evilly.
Jack gritted his teeth; if his hand were free, they'd be on his cutlass. "There's no way yer getting' in me head, Jones," he said simply, "I'm way too strong for that crap."
"That's where yer wrong," Jones countered, "I took that into consideration; even though yer dumber than a bug, yer will is pretty impressive; I've seen ye go after ten guys at once bigger than ye and come out of it with a grin, them all beggin' for mercy. But, if yer physically weakened, that'll weigh yer will down, makin' it easier to control ye. An' that ankle ain't helpin' ye much." Jones then with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame, plucked off Jack's hat from his head and spun around on his finger. "Sound good, capt'n?"
Jack clenched his fists, willing himself to be calm; no one touches his hat, let alone takes it from him. Not only that, but he was going to use him for a tool to kill Will! Now Jack was mad, though he was hiding it as best he could. "No way in 'ell," he breathed tightly, "If ye want to kill me, don't be a coward, hidin' behind crappy tricks. Face me like a man!" Wow, he never thought he'd hear that phrase come out of his mouth, since he always preferred to talk his way out of things and didn't much like the sight of blood.
"My aren't we the flustered one?" Jones chuckled cruelly, still playing with Jack's worn out hat, "I'm touched I have such an effect on ye." Jones laughed to himself, tossing Jack's hat aside. Jack watched it flutter to the ground nearby, making his blood boil. But he refused to give into the satisfaction of Jones seeing him angry. Instead, he just closed his eyes tightly, calming himself. "But," Jones continued, "I'm just givin' ye a taste of yer own medicine."
"Now yer just bein' an idiot. I'm not one to manipulate the thing-a-ma-jigs in someone's head, not just for my own pleasure," Jack said evenly, his temper now under control.
"Ye call this," Jones pulled out his whistle that resembled a sparrow from under his shirt, his face pulled in a sneer, "Not messin' with someone's head for yer own pleasure?" The whistle was on a string, so Jones held onto it, the whistle rocking back and forth in the air, as if mocking Jack.
Jack frowned, watching the whistle intently. "Hey…ye still have that?"
"Of course. It always reminded me of how ye promised ye'd never betray me, that ye'd always be my friend…and how ye broke it." Jones answered simply, as if the answer was obvious.
"Listen mate, I didn't break that promise! When Captain Jack Sparrow makes a promise, he keeps it on pain of death. If anythin', yer the one who broke it. If ye don't even have 'nough faith in yer friends, then what was it worth?" Jack reasoned, keeping his voice still calm, "An'…" he whispered as an afterthought to himself, "Somewhere 'long the way, I forgot that." His thoughts drifted back to Ana-Maria and Will, and even Elizabeth for a moment.
"Well, when yer hypnotized, 'least ye won't be lyin' no more," growled Jones.
"Stop bein' delusional, Jones. I would never let ye in me head; it's not the safest place in the world, if ye didn't know."
"I wouldn't doubt it, really," Jones remarked, "But yer gonna do what I want whether ye like it or not."
Now Jack felt very uncomfortable. He liked the feeling of being in control, always having the upper hand and having the opponent think they were in power, then at the last minute come from behind, turning the situation for them upside-down. But now…Jack felt, dare he say it, nervous with the fact that he wasn't in control. That never happened. He pulled on his restraints with all the strength he could muster, mumbling as many curses as he could recall.
"Stop that, ye'll only hurt yerself," snarled Jones, taking a step closer.
"Like ye care," Jack answered coldly, "Ye know, it's a shame yer such an idiot; I'm sure Will and ye would love to share blacksmithin' secrets; this is some bondage ye got here."
"I'll be sure to converse with 'im 'bout it in hell," Jones said dryly, now taking a few steps away towards a brown sack to the right. He started to dig in it, and said conversely, "There's more reason why I brought ye here, Sparrow. This island is the only known place where it grows a certain plant called the Zerian Flower. When ground up and still concentrated, if someone ate it or even drank it in water, they'll become very sick. If someone in fact drank too much, they'd die."
"So yer gonna drug me?" Jack inquired.
"In a matter of speakin'. That and yer hurt ankle will weaken ye 'nough to get ye good." Jones explained maliciously, pulling out a flask filled with puke green liquid. He wondered how that gunk could have possibly came from a flower.
Jack frowned once more, staring at the flask. "Ugh…ye didn't blow chunks in that, did ye?" he asked, disgusted.
Jones narrowed his eyes at Jack. "No," he said flatly, "Now shut up before I decide just to kill ye now." Jones walked over to Jack, taking the cork out of it on the way there. "Now, open wide…"
Jones tried to get Jack to drink the toxic waste, but Jack moved his head back and forth to avoid it, his mouth shut tight like a stubborn child, despite his headache's protests. Jones, frustrated, kicked Jack in his sore ankle. "Stop strugglin'!" he ordered.
Jack's ankle blazed with fresh pain, and he gasped, recoiling. During his moment of weakness, Jones grabbed Jack by the chin and poured the concoction into his mouth.
Only to have Jack spit it all out in his face.
Jones closed his green eyes, breathing in deep breaths, the disgusting drink dripping from his nose. Jones opened and narrowed his eyes at Jack, who was sneering defiantly at him. "Cheap shots don't work, mate," hissed Jack.
Jones growled and smacked Jack across the face again. "Stop bein' so bloody stubborn!"
Just givin' ye a taste of yer own medicine, Jones," Jack countered, recovering quickly from the slap.
Jones looked fiercer than a demon at that moment. He hit Jack again for good measure and before Jack could regain his senses, Jones grabbed him by the nose and held Jack, still partially stunned, had to breath through his mouth when air wouldn't go through his nose anymore. Jones took the opportunity to make Jack drink some of what remained of the concoction.
This time, Jack didn't spit it out, he gulped it down and gasped for air. Realizing, Jack glared at Jones, finding it pointless to hide his rage. "Bastard!" He spat, kicking Jones in the shin with his good foot.
Jack didn't see or hear Jones cry out in pain; he gasped, his body becoming a flame of intense pain, the poison working rapidly. His headache and hurt ankle throbbed more than ever, and the rest of his body become weak and felt like someone was sticking him with a knife over every millimetre of his skin. His throat became sore from the screaming he could not hear and he became almost feverish. He felt like vomiting, or just flopping over and dying on spot.
The pain subsided slightly, only making him want to throw up more. But he could see and hear again, though his vision was clouded a little. He saw Jones through the fog, now head level with him, with his blue gem necklace in hand. "Now just relax, Jack he said, his voice like poisoned honey, "An' I swear the pain will be gone…"
Jack tried not to focus on the necklace that swayed back and forth like a cobra through the fog, but then he could barely remember that breathing was important, and if he didn't, his whole body would just ache more. His brain was chanting, 'No, no, no! Jack Sparrow, don't ye dare lose yerself!' but his weary brown eyes wouldn't listen to reason. His determined thoughts held on for a while, to a point where Jones grew frustrated, but Jack soon felt the cruel hands of darkness drag him down, consciousness faint…
His last truly conscious thought was of his beloved Black Pearl and that it didn't look like he was going to see his treasure for a while.
~*~
The next morning, Will walked over to Jack's cabin with a yawn. He barely slept last night, too worried about Jack's health and about their conversation the night before. Jack sure seemed angry, and he was too; he hoped that they both could just get over their pride and move on, once Jack was well again, of course.
Will didn't want to wake Jack because he needed his rest, but it was already noon and the whole crew was wondering where their loopy captain was. Will would have to spare them the pain and rouse their captain.
Will knocked softly on the door; No answer. Will realized he was being too shy about things, and knocked harder. Nothing. He knocked even louder, but still nothing.
Wondering what Jack's game was, Will opened the door with an exasperated sigh. Light fell on the bed where Jack was lying.
Wait. Take a few steps back, rewind, and play. Jack was absent.
Will's eyes widened and he ran towards the bed. He checked the sheets and under the bed. Not even a bead from Jack's hair. Will, now very worried, looked around the room, his head a blur. There were signs of a struggle, which was not good at all.
Will cried out, now scared for what might have happened to Jack. Where was he?! He couldn't have gotten up and walked off the ship, not in his condition…
It was then Will noticed the small white sheet of paper on Jack's rumpled pillow. Will grabbed it. It was a note. Will read it once, twice, thrice. Will felt faint and his mouth turned dry. It read --
'If you ever want to see your Captain, Jack Sparrow, ever again, Will Turner must come to The Drunken Monkey bar in Port York at noon in one day. No tricks, just the boy.
~Captain Jones'
~To Be Continued...~
Next Chapter: Will gets pissed, but who can blame him? Jones comes around, and where's Jack? Stick around! :D
Don't hurt me. Please. Cliffhangers are evil things, I know, but they happen. It keeps you interested, though, right? ~_^ Well, reviews for the poor? ^_^;
