Waki 33
This chapter was fun to write, even if it did involve a lot of threatening and not-Jack angst. In fact, this whole "Elizabeth goes forth to fix everything" part was an absolute blast.
In any case, I hope you enjoy it, even though it is, once again, short. See you next time!
With much love, Jiia
"He loves you, Jack."
"That's all well and fine, Miss Swann, but just in case you didn't notice, he's just a might too manly for me." Jack shot her a glare, taking hold of a nearby ink pot with a little bit more force than was really necessary.
"There was a time when that wouldn't have mattered." She sunk onto his bed, for once not bothered in the slightest by the thought. "There was a time when you would have loved him back."
"A momentary madness, nothing more." He grumbled, dipping an elegant feather pen into the ink and beginning to write, in abrupt, terse letters that were just as out of character as his short cropped hair. "Now, if you'll please leave me alone, I'd like to get some work done."
She didn't move. She just sat on his bed, watching him write in the same angry, bitter manner with which he now seemed to do everything. After a while, she pulled herself up and padded closer, thanking Anamaria for lending her her soft, soundless leather boots. With one smooth motion, she drew the short blade from Jack's waist and pressed the edge against his throat.
"There is something I'd like you to keep in mind, Captain Sparrow." She whispered into his ear. "I love Will as much as he loves you. I shan't see him come to harm, by you or any other. If you break his heart, Captain Sparrow, then I shall personally cut out yours."
She let the edge of the blade nick his throat as she drew it away. Flipping the dagger over in her hand, she slid it back into its sheath.
Jack didn't move. He just sat there, pen dripping ink onto his parchment.
She turned and made for the door. She still had one pirate to talk to, and she wasn't entirely sure where he might be hiding.
Jack's voice made her pause. The sound of it froze her down to her core. The man from whence it came could hold no more similarity to the familiar pirate captain than a bird did to a sharp-toothed wolf.
"There is something I'd like you to keep in mind as well, Miss Swann." She heard his pen begin to rasp against the paper again, quick, brutal strokes which reminded her of nothing so much as the grind of steel on steel. "This is my ship, and both you and Mr. Turner are guests upon it. Outlive your welcome, and I just may be inclined to evict you. And, I assure you, accommodations are few and far between out here in the Atlantic. So unless you have a burning desire swim in to port, I suggest you keep a check on that fiery temper of yours."
She clenched her trembling hands into fists to stop them shaking, and reached for the door handle, suddenly desperate to be out of the tiny room.
"Oh, and Miss Swann? If you ever cut me again, you will not be the one carving out hearts."
She shut the door behind her. She managed to saunter across the deck and down the stairs into the dingy quarters beneath the deck before she broke down and started to cry.