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The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2816 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or the characters and I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
She dropped herself down into her chair, already hating where she was, what she was about to eat, a blueberry muffin that had lost part of itself in her car on the ride over, and what she had to look forward to.
A long day of nothing. Nothing except the run of the mill robbery calls, car accidents, missing persons, and miscellaneous garbage that was going to bombard her from every corner of this damn building. Copy machines in the distance, the whir of telephones ringing, the arguing about who was going to go out for lunch break first.
It was only noon. She had five hours left.
It wasn't that she hated her job, but sometimes, the work just wasn't quite what she had expected it to be. Not that she had expected it to be like in the TV shows where she solved a high-profile murder case every week, but it wouldn't bother her if it was just a little less tedious.
"Chief Inspector?"
Leaning against the door was a man that she had always compared to a wet mouse. His skin had a strange sheen to it like he was always sweating, and his hair was brown and stringy, like a Barbie Doll that has been trapped under a bed for ten years.
"Yes, Rilkes?"
His eyes jumped from the muffin that was now halfway in her mouth, to the stack of papers that he held in his hand. It often mystified her how it was that the man had come to obtain the title of sergeant.
"I have the paperwork that...the stuff that Chamberlain sent over," he paused to extend his arm out further for her to grab it. "He said it's urgent or something."
"Generally things that the superintendent sends someone are to be considered urgent."
The strange stringy little bangs that hung over his forehead twitched when he jerked his head in what she supposed was a nod.
Scanning the papers, she rapidly transitioned from interested to bored. They were just closing documents on the first murder case that she had done a month ago. Evidence organization, final sentences, prisoner orientation, things like that. There should be a different person to handle the boring paperwork, she thought. Maybe a secretary.
"Was that all, Rilkes?"
"Oh, uh, yes mum."
"Then why are you still standing there?"
Somehow, he seemed to be sweating more than he already did normally.
"I was told to wait until you had a response of some kind."
Goddamn Chamberlain. It almost seemed like he enjoyed aggravating her to the point where she contemplated handing over her badge and gun in a whirlwind of punches and curse words.
A crick in her neck made itself known when she looked up slowly from the papers to regard him with a dangerous glare.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, mum."
Rolling her eyes, she set about looking back through the papers thoroughly, yet quickly, much how a college student crams an entire textbook twenty minutes before the final exam.
When the phone on her desk rang, she let it go for two, then jerked her head in Rilkes' direction.
"Wanna get that?"
He shuffled forward into the room, picking it up on the last ring.
A few seconds went by before she realized he was wiggling it at her.
"What?"
"They um, they want to speak to whoever is in charge at the moment."
"And Chamberlain decided to fire himself and disappear into the wilds of London, did he?"
"He's on lunch break."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, give it to me."
She snatched the phone from his hand and slapped the papers down onto her desk, halfway grateful for the interruption.
"Hello?"
A deep male voice, one that she would think a combination of velvet and chocolate might sound like, answered on the other end. It had an authority to it, a kind of demanding presence, as though if she didn't listen, there would be consequences.
"May I ask who I'm speaking to?"
"...This is Chief Inspector Trivoly. How may I assist you?"
She really tried to make her voice friendly, instead of it containing undertones of "fuck off", but she wasn't entirely sure that she succeeded.
"Busy day, Ms. Trivoly?"
"I'm sorry?"
"How many people would you say are in the building at the moment?"
"...why do you ask?"
"...How many people would you say are currently in the Department of Health next door?"
"Who is this?"
"Answer the questions, please."
"Well, they are both government buildings, lots of employees, so you tell me."
"Fairly populated then, I would say."
"Who in the fuck is this?"
"Such language. Would you say that the police force is well trained?"
"I'm going to hang up if you don't give me a damn name."
The voice chuckled, a rather sinister noise combined with the poor sound quality of the call.
"I wouldn't if I were you."
She thought about that for a second. Something about the entire conversation up until that point was putting her on edge like there was something that she wasn't seeing.
"...Yes, I would say that everyone is well trained."
"Well, sometimes I beg to differ. The response time is getting a little slow. But, I'm sure you are well prepared for what's going to happen next, in any case."
What in the fuck...
"What are you talking about?"
"You sound like you dislike your job."
"And you sound like you're stalling."
"A bit too tedious for you? All of those boring cases, annoying people milling about. Perhaps get out and live a little after this."
"After what?"
"What made you want to be a cop?"
"Sorry, I don't tell personal details to strangers on phones."
"Fine. I'm guessing that you found most other choices to be too...selfish. You wanted to be a hero, and interior decorators don't get to wear superhero capes to often, do they?"
"How did you know-"
"Nevermind that, nevermind that. I did call for something important, something very important, so let's hope you are as competent as I think you are. Time to become Supergirl, for a little while anyway."
"What in the fuck-"
He cut her off again, his voice transforming from the light taunting tone that he had been using before to something deadly serious, something that forced her to listen to every word.
"In the building is a drum of ammonium nitrate mixed with diesel oil, setup to remotely detonate. The same thing is in the Department of Health. Now, I'm sure you know all about bombs, so I probably don't need to tell you exactly what these will do, but I will anyway. When these go off, they are going to level the first two floors of each building, and unless you skipped physics class, when nothing supports the top floor, well, have you ever played Jenga?"
"Is this some kind of fucking j-"
"No, no, Inspector Trivoly, this isn't some kind of joke. I thought you wanted something exciting? Consider this a golden opportunity. The bombs will go off in...one hour. Should get things moving and all that. Best of luck to you. Perhaps you can thank me for giving you something to do should we ever meet. Cheers."
The phone clicked, a sound that seemed much louder considering the circumstances. Her hands were shaking, and she dropped the phone into the receiver to clutch at them.
Fuck fuck fuck. This was not fucking what she...Jesus Christ. Fuck this job. But the excitement that was indeed jumping in her blood told a different story.
...fuck.
"Mum?"
Her head snapped up when the squeaky little voice of Rilkes nearly made her fly into a rage with her already frazzled nerves, which snapped taut as soon as her training kicked in, barely.
"Get Chamberlain on the phone."
"He's on lunc-"
"I don't fucking care if he's balls deep in the fucking Queen. Get him on the phone."
She smashed the overhead button on the receiver while pushing the building's threat alert button at the same time, ignoring the sweat forming on her own forehead while Rilkes frantically dialed the superintendent's number.
"All personnel are to evacuate the building immediately. We have a critical threat situation. Evacuate the building immediately."
The combination of chairs being pushed back, questions being shouted, phones being hung up, doors being opened and closed, the alarm, and feet running across the linoleum floor made her anxiety level shoot through the roof.
A cellphone appeared in her box of vision, and she snatched it out of Rilkes hand.
"Monica, what-"
"We have a fucking bomb threat Cyril, fuck...this building and the DoH. Called in two minutes ago. You need to g-"
"I'll be there in three. Get everyone outside right now."
"Already done."
But the line went dead before he heard her.
"Rilkes, get SO13 on the phone. Tell them we have two ammonium bombs set to go off in hour's time," she shouted over her shoulder, racing out of the room with the sergeant on her heels. "And call the director at the DoH. Tell him to get everyone out. Everyone."
She ran across the lobby, thanking Christ that she wasn't wearing heels, shouting 'Sergeant Unwin' until she nearly ran into the man.
"I need you to grab the evidence boxes of the five high-profile cases and get them into an armored truck. Leave the rest. Take Slaymaker with you and transport them to Hampstead. You have five minutes. Do not fail."
There was a second where she thought he didn't understand, but then he nodded, his eyes wide, and nearly fell over in his haste to carry the orders out.
Joining the horde of people exiting the building after she grabbed the megaphone from behind the front desk, she smashed the call button and whispered 'come on' under her breath until Cyril answered.
"Monica, I'm heading to the parking courtyard in the HMRC building. Direct everyone there. I sent a critical alert to all constables in the area. They're shutting the block down. Did you call SO13?"
"Of course I fucking-"
"Ok, ok, just making sure. See you there."
He hung up just as she shouted the directions to the crowd through the megaphone, letting them distribute the message amongst themselves.
The run to the HMRC building flowed into a blur of adrenaline, bodies pushing against each other, screaming, crying, and a hundred other things that her brain was too stressed to identify.
"Monica. MONICA!"
She spun around to find Cyril rushing towards her, fear poorly hidden on his face.
"Oh thank god," he blurted out, nearly toppling over with the extra force his body still had when he stopped just in front of her.
"Inspector Trivoly?"
Her heart jumped again when she turned to find a man with black body armor on.
"Superintendent Chamberlain", he added, nodding at Cyril, earning a half-nod in return.
"Yes, I'm Inspector Trivoly."
It was difficult to be heard over the buzz of the crowd, but they managed.
"I'm the bomb disposal lead, Mark Ishter. I have a team here ready to go for each building. Can you tell me as quickly as possible all of the information the caller gave you?"
Cyril craned his neck to listen too, nervously shifting his weight back and forth, but otherwise staying calm enough.
"All he said was that there were two drums of ammonium nitrate mixed with diesel oil ready to remote detonate. He didn't say where in the buildings they were, only that we had an hour to find them."
"Ok, ok. I have alerted the surrounding fire departments and any available constables not being used for shutting the block down. I will send my teams in immediately."
He rushed away before she got a chance to answer, shouting something through a walkie-talkie.
"Monica. Did you get the evidence-"
"Yes, they are taking it to Hampstead. Should be leaving right about now."
"And-"
"Yes, everyone is out of both buildings."
"Good. There is a fourty percent chance this is a hoax, but with the fucked way the world is right now, I'm not very optimistic."
"But how would they get bombs-"
"Not important right now. We will monitor everything as close as possible until something happens, or the threat clears. You did your job, now you just need to carry it through."
She nodded, feeling somewhat reassured.
"Right."
The waiting was starting to make her restless as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of the Viper, until just then the walkie-talkie beeped, Jack's voice coming through.
"Made the call. Told Shawn. He is shutting down the cameras now. Truck's left. Let's go."
"Showtime, finally."
Her heart started to pound in excitement. It had already been too long since she had done something, and now she was going to be robbing an armored truck. Excellent.
She heard the engine of the McLaren fire up as soon as she turned her own key over. Jack and Chris went first, taking a right, while she took a left.
"See you at the truck, darling."
"Copy that," she said with a smile in her voice.
The alarm in the police department could be heard even from where she was, and it was a sound that sent adrenaline into her as she navigated the streets, keeping an eye on her speed.
Rows of cement columns and parking spaces sat idly as the normally quiet space of the police parking garage below the building exploded with curse words, boots pounding on the cement floor and the buzz and static of walkie-talkies.
"Do you see anything?"
"No, there's nothing fucking down here. Not a drop of fucking oil, no drum, fucking nothing."
"Christ, alright, call it into the team head and let's head to the next floor."
"Copy that."
The stark medical hallways of the building were illuminated by flashlights.
"There isn't shit down here," came a voice as a man in a bomb disposal suit smashed through the set of double doors in the central room of the basement of the Department of Health.
"Yeah, the other team lead at the other end of the building just said the same thing. Call it in and we'll sweep the next floor."
"Are you sure we are going to be able to clear this whole fucking place in an hour? The damn building is huge."
"Well, I can tell you for sure that standing here bitching isn't going to do anyone any good."
"Right, let's go."
Her phone started ringing in her pocket, making Cyril jump.
"Hello?"
"Inspector Trivoly, it's Mark Ishter. Just cleared both basements, and we're moving to the next floor."
"Ok, thank you."
"Nothing in the basements," she said, not necessarily to Cyril, but to herself, and anyone who might have been listening. She was too jazzed up to focus on any specific thing or person right now.
"They still have three floors in the DoH to go, and two in our building."
"Oh, thanks for being optimistic Cyril. Way to go."
The Viper's engine purred while the car vibrated under her and around her as she slid in front of the truck on Park Lane, staying about twenty feet ahead. She heard the McLaren only a few seconds later.
Her blood was pumping, and her body quivered with success as they rode the truck down the street. Now all they had to do was make it to the Arch.
"Almost there," came Jack's voice over the walkie-talkie, and she could hear the thrill in him too.
"Don't miss."
"Darling, I never miss."
"Fuck. They didn't find anything on the second floors either. I don't know how in the fuck anyone could have gotten a drum of oil on the top floor of our building."
'Have you ever played Jenga?'
Even the faintest reminder of the bastard on the phone made her blood boil, and she couldn't even pin down the reason why.
"We aren't in the clear yet, Monica. The DoH is huge, and they still have two floors to go there."
"No shit."
Suddenly Cyril's phone rang.
"Charles," he answered, putting it on speaker. "I have Inspector Trivoly here too. Why are you calling? Your dispatch office should be focusing on making sure the area is covered. We have the other office to deal with any civilian calls."
"We had a high threat level call made through to us. A big fire on the other end of town. I wanted the go ahead to send fire personnel."
"Big threat level calls? What, is Buckingham fucking Palace on fire?"
"No, some big office building or something."
"Jesus Christ," he said, dragging the syllables out in a sort of frustrated panic. "Fuck me, fine. Send them."
As soon as he hung up, she was in his face.
"Cyril, something is fucked up here. They haven't found anything, and now suddenly something is on fire?"
"I don't know what's going on anymore than you do. As soon as they clear the DoH, we'll jump on it."
She drug her hand through her hair, feeling a little dizzy.
"...Fine, fine."
One hundred feet, fifty feet, thirty-five feet, twenty feet, ten feet…
The Marble Arch passed them in a blur of white and she put pressure on the brake pedal, aligning herself with the truck, which instinctively sped up, the whir of the diesel engine loud compared to their cars. She matched their speed, keeping them boxed in, when suddenly the sirens of a fire truck pierced the air, causing the truck to swerve, and only her fast reflexes kept the Viper in line with it.
That would be Ringa's distractions.
Six precious minutes was all they had, and the clock was now ticking as they sped down the motorway.
Come on, Jack. Come on.
She heard the sound of a shotgun blast just as a second fire truck flew through close by, barely muffled by the closed window, and could have cheered if she wasn't so focused. As soon as she heard the second shot, she reached inside the center console and found the pistol that she had located before they had left the garage. Leaning out of the now open window, she was just able to aim at a good enough angle to hit the camera that was attached to the top right corner of the truck.
It shattered when the bullet struck it, sending the pieces onto the road, and she caught a glimpse of the truck's passengers getting pissed just before she pulled the gun back in the car, throwing it in the other seat.
A third shotgun blast rang through the air, followed a few seconds later by a fourth, and then she heard a car door open, and it occurred to her that Jack had to get out of the McLaren to get into the truck.
Christ Jack, be careful.
"If you turn him into roadkill Chris, I swear to god…"
The wind pushed his hair away from his face as he carefully, very carefully, climbed up onto the hood of the McLaren, the back doors of the truck now wide open. He paused to listen for the Viper ahead, making sure that Lizzie was okay as much as he could since he couldn't see the car.
"I swear to god Chris, you even so much as twitch this car right now, and I will come back to fucking haunt the shit out of you if Lizzie doesn't kill you first," he shouted.
"Funny, your girl just said the same thing. And if what they say about ghosts is true, you're stuck in the state you die in, and I don't think roadkill is going to be haunting anyone."
"Go fuck yourself."
Inching his way across the hood, vaguely hearing Chris cackling, he finally got close enough to hop into the truck, and was vaguely reminded of standing on a ship railing.
The two sports cars were still boxing them in, matching every swerve.
"Holy christ what in the fuck is going on?" was shouted over Slaymaker's cursing.
"I don't fucking know Unwin. Does it look like I fucking know?"
Sergeant Unwin's hands shook as he gripped the steering wheel of the truck with white knuckles.
"We can't fuck this up, Slaymaker, you wanker. Do you have any idea how much shit we will be in if we fuck this up? Not only with Trivoly, but with the fucking Japs...holy shit…"
"We gotta fucking lose them!"
"I fucking would if I could. Whoever the fuck these people are, they are fucking-"
"Thank fuck," he whispered under his breath as soon as he was sure that his balance was good, withdrawing the tranquilizer pistol from the back of his trousers just as the only guard in the truck jumped at him, a flying mass of body armor. The man didn't get very far before he had a dart buried in his neck, flopping onto the floor like a pile of full black garbage bags.
"Who the fuck are you?" a voice squeaked.
He glanced up to see the passenger staring at him with bulging eyes, filled with such panic that he had to swallow down laughter at the sight, before raising the gun and planting a second dart into the man's neck, then crossing the truck in two steps.
"My turn to drive."
A third dart left the gun just as the driver jerked away in defense. His body slumped over as the drug took effect. It took him a little longer than he would have liked, but he managed to get the pudgy officer onto the floor of the truck while guiding the wheel at the same time, whispering another "thank fuck" under his breath for remembering to wear gloves. He let him land in a heap before sliding into the driver's seat just as the industrial park came into view.
"Told you I never miss," he said over the walkie-talkie. "Driver was kind of heavy though."
A relieved laugh tumbled out of her mouth when Jack's voice came through the speaker, and she glanced up to see him sitting in the driver's seat through her rearview mirror.
"Nicely done."
"Seconded," Chris said right after.
They drove into the park just as the six minutes expired, stopping behind a row of garages, out of sight. Her heart pounded, and the sounds of the engines still rang in her ears as everything went quiet.
Chris climbed out of the McLaren just as Jack's feet hit the ground.
She watched him adjust his clothing, then turn around to grab the keys out of the ignition. Feeling wicked, she snuck up behind him as quietly as she could.
"Boo."
He twitched, barely, but it still brought her satisfaction.
"Trying to scare me, darling?"
He turned around to smirk at her, pulling her in for a quick kiss.
"Maybe," she whispered, breaking away.
His eyes were gleaming with left-over adrenaline and his hair was wind-mussed. She couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for him, though it might have been her own excitement at pulling off this ridiculous plan.
"...could you two maybe keep your hands off each other long enough for us to find the box and get the fuck out of here?"
They both shared a look and snickered at Chris, who was standing there glaring at them, and then followed him into the back of the truck. Five boxes were piled into the left corner, and they had to maneuver around the body to get at them.
"See, seems like he has one too many doughnuts every morning," Jack said, pointing at the driver.
"Yeah, compared to you. You should probably consider eating a doughnut every now and then," Chris retorted, rolling his eyes.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
She raised a hand to perhaps make their attention turn towards her, but then she teetered between whether or not this was turning into an actual argument, or them just antagonizing each other. Turning away to start reading the labels, she half-listened to them, glancing at Jack when he knelt down to help her, catching an expression of amusement on his face.
"Not saying you're skinny, but…"
"Sure, I might not be built like the fucking Hulk, but if you're insinuating that I'm weak…"
"I mean, I think I could take you pretty easily."
Jack stopped examining to look round at Chris, an incredulous eyebrow raised.
"...are you actually saying that you'd win if we were to fight?"
If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was just Jack's ego talking, but she also knew that he had been in his fair share of physical fights before he had been named Captain of the Wicked Wench, and a fair few after that even. Fights where his clever words just hadn't ended up doing any good, and swords and pistols were forgotten about.
"Jack, I have a few inches on you, and a few pounds-"
"I don't fucking care what you have-"
"Fine. Arm wrestle me when we get back."
The rest of Jack's breath that had collected in his mouth from his flustered retort was released in a whoosh as he stared at Chris with a look that was a cross between wanting to shout more and wanting to laugh.
"...what are you, five?"
"No, I just want to be proven right."
Finally arriving at the right box, since she had actually been looking, she also found herself completely fed up with their bickering.
"Excuse me? The two of you actually want to come out of this without jail time, right?"
"What the fuck did you just tell me?"
Cyril placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from launching her phone across the parking lot because that was what she was contemplating at that very moment.
"Monica-"
"We searched the entire building, both of them, and nothing. We didn't find anything. The bombs weren't real," Ishter responded. "Both of my teams scoured. There was nothing there."
"Fuck...ok, I want both of your teams to go to meet in the briefing room at the department. Wait for me there."
"Copy that."
When she smashed the call end button on her phone, Cyril was already spinning her around, wild-eyed.
"The entire fucking thing was a diversion?" he hissed, his jaw tight.
"Yeah, apparently," she snapped back. "But what was it a diversion f-"
Her eyes went wide, and the breath that she was about to exhale got trapped in her throat, staying there until it started to burn.
"Oh fuck me, oh no no no-"
"Care to tell me what-"
"The fucking evidence, Cyril! Jesus Christ, this whole fucking thing was to get that evidence out of the building, and while we were running around with our heads up our arses…And I bet the fucking "fires" were diversions too..."
"Are you saying-"
"Yeah, I'm saying that whoever was on the fucking phone with me earlier to call in the bomb threat, they are now either en route to steal one of those boxes, or they already have it."
He rubbed his hands over his face, his sixty years showing in a rare moment of uninhibited frustration.
"Who did you give the order to?"
"Unwin and Slaymaker."
"Radio them right now. I'll send the order out for all available constables in the area to start patrolling the motorways."
She was already in the process of grabbing her walkie-talkie as he said the words.
Just then, a frantic voice coming from one of the bodies made Jack's head snap around to listen to it, his attention pinpoint focused immediately.
"Unwin. Unwin! Slaymaker, pick up, for fuck's sake. Where are you?"
All three of them stared at the little walkie-talkie on the man's belt, and Jack reacted first.
"Fuck, they've figured it out. That's the woman I talked to on the phone. Triv-Triv-I don't fucking remember, something with a T, I think. Inspector. Lizzie, grab the box and let's get the fuck out of here."
She spun around to wrap her hands around the thick cardboard as Jack plucked all of the tranq darts out that he had used, and then followed him out of the truck, dropping to the cement into his steadying hand, before heading back to the Viper. She delicately placed the box in the back seat before climbing into the driver's seat, pausing for a second to listen to Jack when he started talking over the walkie-talkie.
"Remember, back roads all the way until the M4. We have a long drive ahead of us. I'll drive behind you."
"Sounds good, see you at home."
Dust clouded the air from the gravelly ground in the park as they pulled out.
As soon as Jack's house came into view she breathed another sigh of relief. It felt good to roll down the driveway into the garage, but it felt a little less satisfying to put the car in park and turn the engine off.
Miraculously, they had managed to make it back without a hitch, thanks to Shawn's idea to use backroads for awhile.
Leaning her head back against the seat, her body followed suit as she relaxed, her muscles finally stopping their twitching from all of the adrenaline.
A tapping on the window almost made her jump, but she managed to reign it in. Opening the car door, she rolled her eyes at Jack.
"What, are you trying to scare me too?"
He chuckled, tugging her up from the seat. "No, but points to me if I did anyways."
"Nope, attempt unsuccessful."
"Damn."
He leaned in to give her another quick kiss, only leaving her wanting more, the thrill of the day still quivering in her mind, despite feeling relaxed.
"I'm going to put this box," he started, winding his body around her to push the seat back, delicately picking the box up, "in the gun vault. Should be safe in there in case anyone wants to come looking for it."
"Ok, I'll meet you in the living room with everyone else."
Another kiss, and then she headed off to the stairs.
The aroma of pizza assaulted her as soon as she made it to the top.
"...really?" she said to both Shawn and Ringa who were standing at the kitchen island, dividing up two large loaded pizzas, one chicken alfredo and one something that she couldn't quite identify.
"It was her, I swear," Shawn said as Ringa tried to hold in her laughter.
"I figured you guys might want something to eat when you got back, so I placed the order right after I called in that office building fire. Obviously scheduled delivery for later. Cold pizza is asqueroso."
"At least someone agrees with me."
Jack's arms circled around her from behind just as he said that. "Mmm, that chicken alfredo is all mine."
"Are you telling me that you could eat that entire pizza all by yourself?"
"I mean...probably."
She rolled her eyes at him, stroking his arms with her thumbs as he planted barely-there kisses on her neck.
"So, going to take Chris up on his challenge?"
He snorted against her neck. "Gonna have to. The idiot won't shut up about it if I don't. But for now, I'm hungry."
Once they all had a pile of pizza on their plates, they gathered in the living room, just as the sun started to dip below the horizon.
"What a fucking day," Chris said to no one in particular.
"You're telling me. Never thought I would be adding terrorist to my list of criminal offenses," Jack replied, leaning back against the leather couch.
Ringa grabbed the TV remote, switching the TV on.
"I took the liberty of recording the news segment about you guys. Figured you might get a kick out of it."
A blonde woman was standing outside what appeared to be the police department, her trained reporter's face plastered on, the scrolling 'breaking news' banner on the bottom of the screen.
"Thank you Karen. I am standing in front of the New Scotland Yard, where a critical threat has just been lifted. We have now been told that two explosives were called in, one in this building, and one in the Department of Health next door. They have both been searched and nothing was found. It is unclear at this time who is responsible for the threat, but we were assured that the police are doing everything they can to find a suspect. As you can see, people are returning to the buildings, as the threat has been lifted at this time. We will bring you more updates as we get them. This is Amanda with BBC News. Back to you, Karen."
"I also have this," Ringa said, fast-forwarding a bit, until she arrived at the paused face of the same woman, standing next to another woman in a handsome suit and short brown hair.
"Thank you for taking the time to answer some questions Inspector Trivoly."
"My pleasure."
"Are we labeling this as terrorism, or has there been any discussion around that?"
"We don't know...what to call it yet, but we will be looking into possible motives as soon as we are able."
"You were the one that got the call, is that correct?"
"Yes, a male suspect made the call to the department around noon."
"Is he being looking into?"
"Every possible lead is being looked into."
"Has the threat level stayed the same?"
"Currently the terrorism threat is still at severe due to recent events, but the immediate threat is gone."
"Thank you, Inspector Trivoly. In case you are just tuning in the critical threat has been officially dropped, and there is no current danger that police are aware of. We were told that they would release updates as soon as they have them, and we will be monitoring the situation closely. This has been Amanda Holden with BBC News. Catch us at 10 for more information."
The second Ringa paused the broadcast, Jack poked her arm.
"I'm being looked into," he drawled, a self-important look on his face, chuckling at the eye roll she gave him. "She's the one I talked to on the phone. I'm pretty sure she hates me."
"Yeah, well, you had better hope she doesn't get far. How did the call go anyway?"
"Fine, I thought. Put on my best villain voice and my best Sherlock Holmes interrogation technique, asking vague questions that got me several answers. Acquired as much information as I could, how she was going to react, how long it would take for both buildings to empty, how long they would need to search them, how long we had until they figured it out."
"Your...villain voice?"
"Yeah, kind of like my Captain voice, but imagine that mixed with a little bit of Barbossa, or for those of us here that never heard that voice, imagine my voice with that chilly drawl of like...Hannibal Lecter."
"Actually, that's pretty accurate," Chris said. "Your voice wasn't too recognizable either, I don't think anyone would match your normal one to it right away. And I think you enjoyed that call a little too much."
"Hey, I don't get to play the villain very often. Breaking out the Joker in me is fun."
"I've been telling you to dress up as Ledger's Joker for Halloween ever since the damn movie came out," Shawn said around a mouthful of pizza. "You would cosplay that character so perfectly."
"I'm not wearing a green wig."
"Show Lizzie the voice, at least. Come on, you do it so well."
When Chris finally joined in the coaxing Jack conceded after an excessive amount of eye rolling. He cleared his throat, and was quiet for a moment before he looked at her, and it wasn't just the voice that slithered out of his mouth. His face was suddenly devoid of any traces of humanity, when it had just been there, sparkling, a moment before. It made her shiver involuntarily how quickly he was able to slip into that character.
"Wanna know how I got these scars?"
It was the variation that the Joker said to Gamble just before he told the story of his drunk father.
"...damn," Shawn breathed. "See? It's like Heath Ledger is literally sitting in the room with us."
The life in Jack's eyes returned on command, as though it had never left.
"That was pretty close," she murmured, staring at him with something that bordered on fascination as Jack dug his phone out of his pocket.
"So I've been told," Jack replied, his attention focused on the screen that displayed a 'Now calling' message.
"Jack."
"Hello, Suzuki."
"Am I on speaker again?"
"As usual."
"...I'm assuming you got it? I certainly fucking hope so anyway, with the mess you made."
"Mess?"
"How do you plan to keep your head clear of all of this shit now?"
"Suzuki, we'll be fine. No one saw us that will remember us, and it can't be traced back to us. How else did you think we were getting that box out of there?"
"...I guess. I just hope this doesn't turn sour."
"You hired me for a reason. Hop on a plane so you can come and get this thing. It makes me feel on edge just having it in my house."
"Already booked an early morning flight out to London. See you tomorrow night."
The line went dead, and Jack tossed the phone onto the coffee table.
"So, Chris, how about that arm wrestle you're so damned excited for?"
Chris looked up from reaching for another piece of pizza, a smug look on his face, just as Jack added "fucking five year old" under his breath.
"Now?"
"No, tomorrow. Yeah, now."
They both headed over to the kitchen island, while the rest of them gathered around like they were about to watch a boxing match. Chris settled his right arm into position first, flexing his fingers, taunting Jack, who just rolled his eyes again, following suit, wrapping his hand tightly around Chris's.
"You sure about this?" Chris said, obviously trying to break Jack's confidence, holding perfect eye contact with him, a challenge hanging in the air. Jack's eyes narrowed, an eyebrow raised, looking like the consummate predator, while Chris had the cocky attitude of assuming that he had already won.
"You sound like you're the one who's having second thoughts."
"Nope, just would rather not injure my employer."
A laugh escaped her at the same time as Jack snorted. She had the distinct impression that Chris was about to be put in his place. Sharing a look with Ringa and Shawn, she crossed her arms over her chest, just as Chris glanced over at her for a second.
"Say when, Lizzie," he said, both him and Jack leaning forwards into full position. She took a moment to appreciate the way Jack's black t-shirt clung to the muscle in his arm, before drawing out the tension and suspense until even she couldn't take it any longer.
Was this really actually happening? Two grown men arm wrestling each other as though they were little kids that had a disagreement on the playground, just after they had successfully stolen a box of evidence from an armored truck for a damn drug cartel?
Her life was strange.
She counted down from 3.
"3...2...1...start!"
It became immediately apparent that Chris had been too cocky, too sure of himself, because his expression changed from smug to frustrated within a second as Jack held fast, his face holding the perfect physical translation of 'bitch you thought'.
They stayed in the same position, neither giving even an inch for a solid minute, until Chris ground out a "fuck" when Jack started to gain ground, throwing more strength into Chris's arm. They all watched with bated breath, making noises of hype, involuntarily moving forward until they were all huddled around the island glued to the battle in front of them.
Slowly, Chris's arm started to give, started to fold down, inch by inch.
"...Fuck...fuck, I'm not fucking losing this…"
Jack withstood the last burst of strength, then went for the money, throwing a taunting "get fucked", at him just as Chris gave up, like a fishing line breaking, his arm getting slammed into the island.
"God damnit!"
She allowed herself to feel a little bit of pride, as though she had been the one to win, rather than Jack. He glanced over and gave her a little wink, sending a grin across her mouth.
"Now that you lost, I'm going to explain why."
He paused, his eyes glittering with victory. "Time for a history lesson, since you evidently forgot. I used to be on a ship, in the ocean, working on said ship...oh, I'd say about eighty-five percent of the year. When Lizzie and I drank from the fountain, it froze both of us...well, it shaved several years off of me, but she stayed the exact same. I'm stuck with the same body that I had then. Here is where the history part comes in.
"A sailor works on a ship from the time he gets up to the time his head hits the pillow. All physical work. Nonstop. So, physically, they were some of the strongest men around, even if they didn't look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and they would be able to out-strength almost anyone if challenged.
"Basically, what I'm saying is that I'm a lot fucking stronger than I look, not that I look like a twig or anything, and next time you feel like underestimating me, don't."
There was a second where they all thought that Chris was literally going to throw a tantrum. Then, he straightened to his full height and seemed to grudgingly accept that he had lost.
"Point taken."
The warm water introduced her skin to a whole new level of relaxation as she stepped into it. Goosebumps covered her as it soaked her hair, running down her body like a magical waterfall.
Doing a job, any job really, always seemed different before and after. During, in the moment, it seemed commonplace to do whatever it was that you are doing, as though you are just taking a walk in the park, but as soon as you're done, the enormity of it, the pounding heart, the speed, the gunfire, the criminality of it all hits you like a train.
She always felt a bit giddy after they successfully pulled something off, and this job was no exception.
Suddenly someone nudged her forward and stole her water.
"Excuse you?"
Spinning around, she found Jack grinning at her, not quite a full grin, more of a rather tired half-grin.
"You could at least ask," she grouched, watching the water as it fell down his body, following one particular drop as it made its way down his shoulder, right over his nipple, carving a path down his flat stomach, before landing right on…
"It's my shower."
Her head snapped back up, and she found that she didn't have a counter-argument for that.
"Doesn't mean you can't share."
"Who says I wasn't going to?"
The faux-irritation melted away as he held his arms out, drawing her against his body like an inhale of air, her hands smoothing over his back, her head finding a comfortable spot on his chest. She loved hugging him, loved just being in his arms. Back when they had first gotten closer, during their days as Pirate Kings, she had been pleasantly surprised by how affectionate he was. It hadn't been nearly as full blown as it was now, because he had held some of it back in fear that it wasn't going to be as fully returned, she figured.
But he would play with her neck when he leaned over her at her desk to look at something she was showing him, he would sneak up behind her while she was taking her uniform off to assist her, the word assist here meaning that he would completely take over, and he undressed her much more pleasantly than she did herself.
And when they swam together. Oh. A teasing tickle at her hip while he lounged in the water always turned into a splash fight with him, ending in him stealing her very soul with kisses as a final checkmate.
Even just his eyes when they looked at her, from across the room, across a ship, from two feet away, or when his body was covering hers, they always held a special side of him, a special piece reserved just for her. A warmth, a vulnerability that no one else got to see.
"You...distracted me today, you know," floated out of his mouth from above her head.
"What?"
"Worrying about you...think I almost fell off the hood of the damn car while listening to make sure you were still up there."
"And I nearly had a panic attack when it occurred to me that you had to get on top of a car going 60 miles an hour to jump into a truck. So I worried about you too."
He chuckled into her hair. "Can't teleport love, sorry."
She pinched the skin of his back, earning her a quiet "ow" just before he gently steered her against the wall, covering her mouth with his, then breaking away to pepper kisses across her cheek, over her jawline, dipping down to trail them down her neck, his hands playing below, across her back, her hips, and anywhere else he could reach.
"It was fun though," she murmured, eyes closed in contentment.
He only gave her a low noise of agreement, but otherwise stayed quiet as he held her close. Finally, she allowed the last remaining bit of tension to leave her body, floating out on the long sigh that slipped through her parted lips, turning into an "oh" when Jack started to massage her shoulders, working his way lower across her back in strong circles of his fingers.
Oh god, this was heaven. He didn't do this very often because they were usually too interested in crossing the physical line into a decidedly more carnal territory, but when he did, damn he was good at it.
"I'm surprised you still have any strength left," she teased between appreciative moans. He snorted, shaking his head. "Plenty of ego though," she added, opening her eyes to see the raised eyebrow and the little smirk that quirked up the corner of his mouth.
"Self-confidence, love, self-confidence."
"E-g-o," she said in drawn out syllables, earning her a dramatic eye roll, then suddenly she was being lifted off of the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Her back left the shower wall as he turned them around and carried her out, smiling at the way she giggled and gasped, pausing to turn the water off.
"See, plenty of strength left," he said into her hair.
The black satin sheets of his bed were soft against her skin as he layed her down.
"Jack, we're wet st-"
Anything further that she was going to say was muffled when his hand covered her mouth as he attacked her neck with more kisses, his other hand striking against the skin of her stomach just below her ribcage.
"Damnit, Jack, Jack, that...oh my god stop...that tickles," but it all came out as a jumbled mess against his palm as he tortured her, not giving when she tugged at his arm.
He did however give a small yelp when she dove her hand to his side, tickling him back without mercy, digging her fingers into just that spot that had him faltering, small bursts of laughter making their way out of him until he finally gave in, rolling to the side, then tugging her up until they both landed on pillows.
"See, now we're dry."
Reaching out to lift up a chunk of his hair, she eyed the dripping water that fell off of it.
"Most of us, anyway."
"But...the towels are way over there, and I'm...here...and I really don't feel like getting up."
"Lazy," she whispered at him.
"No, tired."
He scooted closer and climbed around her to switch the light off, before pausing and making a noise of realization.
"Just in case, I meant to show you that button for the vault a while ago, but I guess I forgot."
Shifting so that she was laying on her stomach, with him annoyingly draped across her back, he pointed at the side of the nightstand. There was a little faceplate there with a small black oval in the center.
"Just push that, and the vault will open. There is also a rather loud alarm keyed into it. And," he paused to slide the small drawer towards the bottom open, revealing a small pistol, "that's always there if you need to use it."
"Guns everywhere, I remember."
"I have a lot of enemies. And I'm sure you keep your house defenseless, right?"
"Touche."
With the light switched off, they both settled against each other, listening to the noises outside.
"Here's to hoping that this job ends here, yeah?" she whispered.
"Mhm," he answered, or it could have been a dream-noise for all she knew because it looked like he was already asleep. She sighed, and snuggled up next to him, fending off mildly panicked thoughts that this job wasn't going to end here, that they had stepped into a puddle that could turn into a damn bottomless pit with just the wrong word said between someone, or the wrong coincidence, or some other fucking human error.
Jobs were all fun and good and exciting, but the reality was, every single one of them had the possibility of becoming a life or death situation, especially one with as high of stakes as this one, despite how lightly they had treated it.
It was a blessing that they had as much of a chance of keeping their involvement a secret as they did, but even that wasn't guaranteed, she knew.
Eventually, sleep took over, sending her worrying into hibernation for now, dreams of Lima taking their place.
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The Scythe's Song