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The Evil Lady E	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 5995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Mercy

Elizabeth heard Jack's sigh of relief as he saw she'd gotten rid of the dagger. Several strange looks passed over his handsome, exotic features. Relief, followed by something sadder... regret? Then his eyes turned back to her, and the final change she saw pass over his face was desire, fierce and unrelenting, and then his mouth descended on hers again.

She kissed him hungrily, eagerly, the curiosity and need that he'd been torturously raising in her all along - ever since they'd met, in fact - controlling her, taking over, making her kiss him for all she was worth. Her arms - both of them, this time - wrapped around his neck and his arms came around her back to haul her thrumming body against him, and she reveled in the sensation. She could smell him, not fresh like Will or her father, but raw and spicy and utterly masculine. She felt so vigorously alive. This must have been what Jack meant when he said, Gets you all wiggly inside, don't it? Except it was him that had her insides wriggling, and she was so overcome with the desire to get closer to him, as close as possible, that her knees began to buckle.

He seemed to sense this and bent his knees to lift her, her booted feet coming off the ground, and carry her a few feet away, and right next to the edge of the deck, under the rail, he set her down and let her knees bend, sinking to the floor with her.

She lay on her side facing Jack, with one of his knees between her legs, and her mouth still seeking his repeatedly. She ground herself against his thigh, and Jack made a small sound of pleasure deep in his chest. She moved her hips that way, again, and was rewarded not only with a warm, swelling feeling in her sex, but a groan from Jack that told her he was enjoying this as much as she was.

Then he was easing her over, the other way, facing away from him, so that both her arms were behind her back, and he reached down to hold her wrists, pulling her back against him. She felt the warm, rough touch of his right palm on her stomach after he nudged the folds of her shirt aside, and he slowly slid his hand lower.

Her hips bucked back against him, driving the soft curve of her bottom against his painful erection, and he let out a hiss. “Easy, love.”

“I want - “

“I know bloody well what you want.”

He hastily unfastened the breeches she wore and shoved his hand roughly inside. She looked down at it, noting the rings he wore, and the fine lines of dirt marring the brown surface. But it didn't matter that Jack's hands were dirty. They were Jack's, and she wanted them on her. Needed them on her... there. His hands brushed the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, and she whimpered wordlessly, leaning her head back into Jack's shoulder. The fingers of his other hand stroked the soft skin of her wrists and forearms, behind her. Then she felt his hand that rested between her legs slide lower, and she cried out when the calloused pads of his fingers found the most sensitive part of her entire body.

Jack shuddered when he found her wet and wanting, and was so aroused he could barely focus on what he was doing.

He began to stroke her rhythmically, forward and back, making her burn more and more with every touch. He was not teasing, or gentle, but aggressive, the only cure for the urgent need she felt there.

At the same time... Elizabeth had never felt this way before, and could barely think what it was like... for some reason, the image of a hot cup of tea came unexpectedly to mind, and how it tasted when fresh, burning hot but strong and horribly bitter, too, with a subtle promise of pleasure brought out by just a touch of sugar, to make it sweet...

Her throbbing body was the tea, and Jack's hand was the sugar, entering her, spreading and dissolving, meeting all the complex notes and flavors and changing them, completely, forever... Her whole body seemed to seize up, and this transforming change was upon her, as the bitter need she had been feeling was swept with a powerful, warm wave, turning the bitter throbbing in her loins sweet, sweeter than sugar or rum or anything she'd ever tasted or felt, and she shuddered violently against his fingers, crying out his name aloud as the waves crashed over her.

When she could think again, she discovered Jack's hands were still on her, and she took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. Her voice, when she found it, was shaky and breathless. “Jack... what was that? What did I... what happened?”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her arms and back. “You can have that any day, love. Any time, of any day. All you've got to do is say...” He broke off unexpectedly.

“Say what?”

“Say, 'mercy',” he finished, removing his hand and moving his body back from hers. The tone of his voice was strange, the desire was still there, but there was something darker, too, more sardonic. It rankled how she had exposed herself, given herself to him and he was still playing this sordid game, trying to humiliate her. Her hand itched to slap him, and she tried to lift her arm to enact that intention, but with sudden horror realized she could not move her hands.

Metal dug into the place where her hands met in back of her. Cold, unforgiving metal. A new, frightening chill descended on Elizabeth.

Jack had shackled her hands behind her back! While they were... while she was... whatever that delightful, agonizing feeling was.

She sat up and scooted around to face him, growing immediately furious. “You... you... bastard!”

“Now, now, that's not what I want to hear.”

She struggled against his grip, as he leaned forward and brought her to her feet, backing her against the deck rail.

“You filthy scoundrel...you drunken... lout.... you... pirate!” She kicked at him but he dodged it easily, and he took the opportunity to place his body between her legs, and he lifted her up so she was sitting on the deck rail.

“I'd have a care what I was saying, if I were you. Which I'm not. But you are in a very dangerous spot just now, Lizzy, so I'd suggest you start thinking about how the word 'mercy' is pronounced.”

“You can take your rotten mercy and shove it right - “

He shook her then, hard, by the shoulders, and leaned down to stare meaningfully into her eyes. “Let me make it perfectly clear to you, love. You've got no weapons left. Your hands are bound. You're about to be tossed overboard, boots, boobs an' all, by a man you've tried to kill a good number of times, now. No one's goin' to save you. It'll be hours before anyone even notices you're gone.”

She considered his words, the deadly seriousness with which they were pronounced, and felt the seed of fear that had been planted by the shackles grow into a real, palpable possibility. She was angry, so angry, about all the times he'd served himself at her expense, but afraid, too, never having been quite this vulnerable before. She envisioned the scenario, quite easily, him giving her a gentle push that would send her hurtling down to the churning water, and she'd plunge in, helpless. No one would know until the morning shift - not long, now, as she noted the sunlight was just breaking on the deck, pink and rosy. No one was nearby to help her, not even Will. Will.

“Will won't ever forgive you,” she said testily, watching for his reaction.

He smiled. “True enough. Doesn't change anything.”

She scanned her mind for any tidbit that would save her, thinking of the conversation she'd had with Will in the brig, his tender concern for her, his fear.

“You promised him you wouldn't hurt me.” She watched his expression warily, looking for any sign of softening. There was none. Only a brief, sad smile.

“Pirate,” he whispered, and lifted his hand to stroke her face, from her hairline to her jaw. “Now, do I hear a 'mercy'?”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No,” she spat from between clenched teeth. “No.”

He reached his hands around and yanked her against him, then, and she could feel he was still hard for her, still wanted her despite all of it. “Say it, Lady E. Say it, and I'll forget that I'm supposed to kill you, that you deserve it, I'll forget all of it, and I'll take you to my cabin right now, and we'll do the deed right an' proper, and you won't regret a moment of it because it'll be the finest hour of your life. Say it. Just say it, for me.”

“No,” she said, a little more shakily, as the full force of his intentions hit her. The dawn was breaking behind her, and the sun began to peek up over the horizon. It occurred to her that this was her last dawn, and Jack the last man she would ever see, and she wouldn't get to do the deed right an' proper, as he'd put it. She would die a virgin. An unloved, very angry virgin.

Her eyes closed in order to shield her emotions from his view as she pondered it all. For a moment she considered relenting, apologizing, even just to get his guard down, until she could finish him. But she knew she couldn't do that, either, not with her own hands. She wanted to, but when she had that knife against his throat, and his pulse was throbbing against her fingertips, it was to taste Jack, to love Jack, not to kill him, that she desired most.

But it was too late. He would push her off the ship into the sea, and stare down, as she sank helplessly into the depths. A thought occurred to her.

“Even shackled, I can still swim.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, her glance a caress on his black brows, black eyelashes and unsmiling mouth.

“Not if you're unconscious, love.”

His softly spoken words, issued as tenderly as a term of endearment, had the opposite effect of chilling her to the bone. He's thought this through, she realized. He means to do it.

“'Mercy', Elizabeth. 'Mercy', and forget it all, that you're a murderer and a menace and a monster.”

At the mention of the word 'monster', Elizabeth shuddered inwardly. Is that what he really thinks of me? “I only did what I had to do, Jack. I had to save us, and you were the price.”

“Funny, I'm left feeling rather cheated by that deal.”

Inwardly, she recollected the events leading up to their last moments on the Pearl, the Kraken's attacks, waiting for Will to be clear of the net, the gun being knocked from her hands by a huge tentacle. The feeling of powerlessness, the rage inside, knowing Jack, the coward, was rowing away to safety.

She clung to that thought, hoping desperately that it would save her. The rage had channeled into her, and she was angry again.

“You won't do it,” she stated coldly.

“Why not?”

“You're still a coward.”

“I faced you, didn't I? Wasn't that what you wanted, a fair fight? And now you've had it, and you've lost, and you're still saying 'coward'? Elizabeth, you're deluding yourself. Jus' like a woman.”

Her anger intensified even more, and she squeezed her jaw shut tight. “You won't really do it. You can't.”

“I can, an' I will.”

“No.”

“Mercy?”

“No.”

“Last chance. I mean it.”

The dawn had now fully broken, and rays of light framed Elizabeth's face. She couldn't know how perfectly, ironically angelic she appeared to Jack's eyes, her rum-colored hair blowing in the breeze, her expression resolute. The ship moved and groaned, and the sound seemed to surround them, enveloping them. A gull's cry rang out, sad and painful to the ears. Elizabeth met his eyes, and slowly shook her head. “No.”

He kissed her, then, hard, tasting her mouth for one final time. She gave in to it, hoping against hope that he'd relented, that he meant to confess she was right all along and take her away, back to his cabin, back to the brig... anywhere.

Then his lips were gone from hers, the taste of him remaining on her tongue.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth,” he said soberly, and raised his arm.

He brought it down and struck her hard across the face, her hair flying out in a circle.

Her limp body tumbled off the rail and fell, silently, down into the raging sea.

* * *

He did it.

Elizabeth kicked her legs in the water, having been very quickly pulled back to consciousness by the feel of the ocean water on her skin. Either that, or Jack hadn't hit her very hard.

But she was now below the surface, and no matter how frantically she kicked, she couldn't seem to gain any distance upward without the use of her hands.

I can't believe he actually did it, she thought. He murdered me.

Disbelief gave way to sadness, and desperation, as she kicked, and sank very slowly, but inevitably, downward. The center of her palm stung painfully in back of her, and she realized the large wound must be bleeding again, releasing tiny red clouds into the water. She wondered if she would even have time to drown before the sharks got to her. And she realized, with a clarity that had thus far eluded her, under layers of pride and anger and proper British detachment, that this was how Jack must have felt, after that day on the Pearl.

Jack.

There was no anger, no bitterness now, and she felt only a deep, overwhelming sorrow that she'd never see his face again, never laugh at him or kiss him or make love to him. It was too late for all of that, and it was all her fault.

She cursed her wretched pride, which had kept her from telling him how she really felt about that day, back on the Pearl... how much she had wanted to kiss him, to keep kissing him, but he'd put them in danger and she had no other choice. She wished she could tell him now; tell him she was sorry.

In the back of her mind, the other people and places in her life clamored for her attention and thought. Will... he'd never be the same after this. Her poor father, with his weak heart, she hoped the news of her death wouldn't kill him outright. James, who she'd always admired and adored, but for whom couldn't muster up the slightest bit of romantic feeling.

And the people she'd never gotten to know, all over the world, the adventures she'd never have. Children. Unbidden, the image of a child rose to her mind. A bizarre one, with flashing dark eyes and olive skin and untamed black hair, running along the deck of a ship in the sunlight. Too late. Too late.

She was slowly drowning, she knew, fighting her own urge to inhale as the light of the surface faded and gave way to the silent, shady depths.

Mercy, she cried inside her mind, as the crushing blackness took her.
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The Evil Lady E