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The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2815 -:- 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
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It was a bit difficult to not stare at his arse as they walked down the hallway. It was even more difficult to not imagine the way her hands would clutch it, her nails digging in, as his hips drove into her mercilessly. Paris, Copenhagen, London, Santiago, she figured they had corrupted each city with their fleshy adventures, probably more. It might have been forty something years since she had seen him, and she might have been with men in-between, but it pained her to admit, both in her stubborn mind and between her legs, that none of them could put fire in her blood like Jack. To most, he seemed like he would be the self-serving type when it came to sex, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. He worshiped her when his clever hands trailed across her fevered skin.
Perhaps she was going to add Mumbai to the list before too long.
"I can feel you staring, you know."
Her eyes snapped up, narrowing at the back of his head.
"I wasn't staring."
"I can even hear you thinking. We could have a quickie in the car if you're that distracted."
"You're not that good."
"That's a lie."
He didn't even hesitate. Asshole.
"You just have quite the proclivity for choosing...well-tailored suits," she huffed. "And cars," she added in admiration when they stepped into the garage.
"See why I told you not to steal this one?"
Sitting before her was a 1994 McLaren F1 with blood red and black pearlescent paint, blacked out rims, blacked out headlights, and a pitch black interior. The damn thing looked ready to kill someone, and it made her mouth water.
"How much horsepower?" she breathed as she walked down the side of it, fingers touching it with reverence.
"725. I made some modifications."
Modifications here meant that he had most likely stuffed it with a few NOS tanks.
"You have to let me drive this thing."
"And what do I get in return?"
She glanced up at him from the other side of the car, a devilish look in her eyes.
"Maybe I will ride you in it."
"I hope that won't be the only time...or place," he snarked, unlocking the doors.
"Always so demanding, Jack."
They both settled in, taking a moment just to admire the fact that they had the opportunity to sit where they were sitting.
"I just know your appetite, especially when it comes to me."
"You're not that good," she insisted again and then blushed because it sounded like the only person she was trying to convince was herself.
"Keep telling yourself that, darling."
Oh god, she loved it when he pulled out his old lines, especially when he added just the right Captain tinge to his voice.
"Whatever…"
A rush of power flooded through her when he turned the engine over, both from the rumbling of the car, just oozing with sexy, and from the fact that Jack was sitting behind the wheel. Seeing him drive fast cars was almost as big of a turn on with him as sex.
'Nice American accent, by the way," she remarked as the McLaren rolled across the cement, and then through the opening garage door.
"I can do a southern American accent too. And a French accent, a German accent, and probably a Jamaican accent if I tried hard enough."
"I'm sure. Who was on the phone?"
He looked sideways at her, raising a brow.
"My coordinator."
"Ah."
In their line of work, it was incredibly important to keep your face unknown to clients, both so that no one could pin down patterns, and so that you could disappear if need be without too many issues. Naturally, someone had to pretend to be you when dealing with money and item exchanges. Ringa was hers, and she would damn near trust the woman with her life.
"So, this party. Did you just want to get me in a dress, or is there something else going on?"
He didn't answer right away, and she knew that he was deliberating the pros and cons of telling her. Jack had always been...guarded, even with her.
"There is...someone who was given a job that would...oh bugger it. I have an assassin after me."
"What? An assassin? And you are dragging me along so I can watch you kill him?"
"Kill him?" he parroted with humored surprise as they turned onto another street. "First of all, it's a her, and no, I don't plan to kill her. I plan to give her a better offer."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"I would rather like to see her employer dead, so, if I put a bounty on his head that is worth more than mine, I doubt she would turn it down."
Despite knowing that Jack was more than capable of handling himself, physically or in a game of words, she couldn't help but be worried for his safety every time he put himself in danger.
"You had better hope so. Do I know her?"
"You might. Grab my phone out of my pocket."
'Grab his phone out of his pocket' her brain echoed.
She had been unprepared to touch him at that particular moment.
"I won't complain if you decide to let your hand wander a little though," and she could hear the shit-eating smirk in his voice without even looking at his stupid face.
"Wouldn't want to crash this beautiful car," she responded in a sing-song tone that was dripping with innocence, sliding the Xperia out of the pocket of his trousers.
"You're suggesting that I can't drive and get a handjob at the same time? You disappoint me, Lizzie."
She definitely hated him.
When he snickered, she realized that she had said it out loud. Rolling her eyes, she opened the photo gallery and then balked when the thought occurred to her that she was looking in Jack Sparrow's photo gallery. He glanced over, watching her finger tap on the screen with hesitation.
"There isn't anything inappropriate in there, don't worry. Never have time for any of that."
The fact that she had half hoped that there would be something inappropriate made her blush just a little bit.
"Sex with you does only last a few minutes."
Let him chew on that.
"Lying is a grievous sin, you know. Best be careful," he replied smoothly.
Damn.
"Lust is a deadly sin, and you have plenty of that."
"Touche, though I don't think you have room to complain about it."
It was embarrassing how much time she spent on thoughts that orbited around fucking him, but she couldn't help but hope that one day there would be more than that between them. Scrolling through the photos, she arrived at a recent one of a woman. Asian, Japanese by the look of her.
"Nope, have never seen her face."
There had been a couple of attempts on her life over the years, but most of the time she kept herself on the fringes just enough to never have a complete presence in the world.
"Yeah, well, hopefully this will be the only time then."
The McLaren pulled into a parking lot next to what looked like an industrial warehouse.
"So the payment that you mentioned earlier, on the phone. I will find out what it was for eventually, so you might as well just tell me."
He put the car in park, turned it off, and then sat in the seat silently.
"It isn't related to this," he pointed at the building," but it is something that I feel like you would be inclined to try and take from me."
"Oh? You paid someone else to steal something for you?"
A ring on his finger caught the moonlight when he drummed them against the steering wheel.
"No, but I did pay someone to transport it to my house. One of my houses, anyway. An unregistered one."
"And what is this thing? Why so secretive about it?"
He locked eyes with her, silently telling her to back off, but she didn't, returning the intense stare without flinching.
"Fucking fine, but if you get it in your head to actually try and take it from me, I am not going to care that you are you."
Doubt it. At least she hoped that she could find doubt in that statement. She was fully aware that having Jack as a full-blown enemy would not be a fun experience for her. Just because she hadn't seen him for awhile didn't mean that she hadn't kept track of him.
"I finally found the Mao Kun Map."
"The navigational charts?"
"Mhm. And they're mine."
"I'm impressed that you found them before me. I have been on their tail for a very long time."
It was true. Ever since she had discovered that they still existed, she had chased every lead possible to get her hands on them. Unfortunately, someone-
No. Could the self-absorbed tosser sitting next to her actually have the audacity to keep her from getting the navigational charts?
Who was she kidding? Of course he could.
Fucker. Asshat. Twatwaffle.
"You were the one that kept getting in my way!" she exclaimed, twisting in her seat to glare at him fully, outrage sparkling in her eyes.
"Indirectly. I was more of a puppet master, rather than an active player."
His eyes glittered with amusement, and she had half a mind to gouge them out.
Every time she had gotten a lead on the damn charts, something else always came up. A new job, a problem, or something else that drew her attention away. At least, she had thought that they were just annoying coincidences. Now she knew that it was just Jack slowing her down.
"Maybe I will steal them," she muttered, her face arranging itself into an annoyed pout.
"Let's go in," he said, chuckling at her.
"Hang on a moment. I still haven't figured out why you brought me."
They climbed out of the car and straightened their clothes.
"If I get shot or stabbed, or whatever-the-fuck, someone needs to drive the getaway car."
"Do you find it highly likely that you are going to get shot or stabbed?"
"Why, does the idea bother you?"
No. Yes. More than she cared to admit. Astronomically.
"A little."
"I doubt it, but you never know."
She did know that Jack Sparrow was a fucking artist behind a handgun, or any type of gun, really. He had always preferred to solve confrontations with words first, but if that failed, bullets certainly helped, and fists if it came down to it. If Jack did get injured, she was damn sure that the other person would have a couple ounces of lead embedded in their body too.
"And where would we get away to, exactly?"
"Well, somewhere with medical supplies would be preferable," he deadpanned.
They had both figured out over the years that the Fountain of Youth only provided protection against old age and disease. It did nothing against getting shot in the goddamn head with a 50 caliber bullet, as an example.
"No shit. I mean, is there a hospital or something close by?"
"Probably, but we can worry about that later. Come on."
When they walked through the door, music reached her ears, a thumping beat, with a voice that sounded incredibly familiar.
It was Ginuwine, she realized. Pony.
Of all the songs...
"Are you sure we are still in India?" she whispered.
"It does rather seem like someone cut a chunk out of California and plopped it here," he replied, but his attention was otherwise distracted.
Jack led her through several gray hallways that made her feel like she was in the basement of a hospital. When they finally stopped in front of double doors with purple lights flashing through the cracks, she put a hand on his shoulder.
"Is she expecting you?"
"Not...exactly," he said hesitantly, turning to look at her. He was hiding something from her.
"What?"
"We actually just missed her."
"Missed her where?"
"I would say that she breached the hotel room about the time that we got in the car."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Negotiating is always easier in a public place."
"Again, no shit, but that was awfully fucking narrow, Jack."
"If you hadn't putzed around for so long, it wouldn't have been."
"Right, because trusting random strangers is something that I do all the time."
"I wasn't a random stranger," he snapped, his voice rising.
"I didn't know that!"
Jack was about to fling another retort at her when the two doors slammed open, a drunk couple stumbling out eating each other's faces.
"If I ever lose enough brain cells to start kissing women like that, just shoot me please," Jack muttered, watching them with disgust.
"I might just shoot you anyway."
His eyes slid over to look at her.
"Look, I knew I had enough time to get both of us out of there before she got there. I left her a note."
"A note? And what did the note say?"
"Just an address. This address."
"And what are we to do in the meantime?"
"This is a party, darling."
Staring beyond him, she finally got a good look at where they were apparently going to be spending their evening. It looked like a classic rave, with sweaty bodies jumping and flinging themselves around, but she knew that appearances could be deceiving. There was a DJ freaking out on some kind of drugs in his booth, not a security guard in sight, and the ceiling was incredibly high, with a higher walkway going around the edge of the building. It looked like there were more rooms up there.
"No, this is a gathering. Of us. At least, mostly us, and a few stragglers."
"I always loved how smart you are."
A pang of...something always invaded her chest whenever the word love came out of his mouth, regardless of the context it was in. When she lay awake in bed at night, even during the times when he was nothing more than a whisper of a name on someone else's lips, and sometimes when he lay asleep next to her, she wished that he could love her. But she had concluded that he wasn't built for commitment, to anyone.
They walked in side by side, at least for a second, before Jack headed immediately for the bar. Normally, she would have chastised him for getting buzzed before trying to negotiate with an assassin, but she knew better than anyone how well Jack Sparrow could hold his alcohol. He could probably pull off a bank heist after drinking the whole damn bar.
"A Dark N' Stormy. Make it fast."
The bartender smirked at him, the song changing to Wild Thing by Tone-Loc in the same moment.
"What's in that?" she asked, mentally running through her list of favorite drinks.
"Black Seal rum and ginger beer, with a lemon. Tasty."
"Rum. Should have known."
Then, a fiendish idea popped into her head, well, both fiendish and possibly insane. Making sure Jack was listening, she leaned over to order her drink.
"I'll have a Screaming Orgasm, please."
Vodka, Irish cream, and coffee liqueur, all put together into heaven in a shot glass.
She grinned triumphantly for about three seconds at Jack's immediate reaction. His drink had just reached his lips, when he froze, staring at her intensely, his eyes transitioning from shocked to predatory before she could gather her wits, and she could almost see all of the ways that he had just thought about giving her an orgasm. Now, she was clenching her legs together trying to ignore the ache between them, her smile long gone.
"You should know by now that it is a bad idea to provoke me, Lizzie."
"Maybe I like doing it."
When she got her drink, they found a quiet-ish corner to stand in.
"I never said you didn't. I just said it was a bad idea. I have no qualms about carrying you upstairs and taking you against a wall right now."
She choked on the alcohol that had almost completed its descent down her throat. God, if he kept talking like that, he wouldn't even have to take her upstairs. The wall just behind them would do fine.
After she got over her mild coughing fit, she spent the next several minutes glaring at every female that made suggestive eyes at Jack, knowing full well that she had no right to be possessive over him, or jealous of them.
"Damn, if looks could kill…" he said at one point, earning a glare of denial from her.
Then, a woman in an off-white suit wove through the crowd towards them. Her black hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and the only makeup she wore was a shade of dark brown on her lips. She looked like she was staring directly into Jack's soul.
"Suzuki, long time no see."
He knew her?
Instead of reacting to Jack's greeting, the woman's eyes shifted to her.
"You brought protection?" The question was directed at Jack.
"Yeah, she's my guard dog. I really needed one of those."
As if.
"I saw your pretty car out in the lot. Don't suppose you want to throw that into your offer?"
"Not a chance."
"Then I might just kill you after all."
"I wouldn't recommend trying. Come on, let's go upstairs."
She tensed when the woman looked at her again with a disdainful expression. She was about to ask what the fuck her problem was, but then Jack quieted her with a very quick, very serious look over his shoulder. Jack could appear on the surface to be flippant and aloof, but underneath that, he was a predator; a leopard hiding in the bushes waiting for his prey to show even the slightest weakness.
He led them both into one of the side rooms in the top right corner of the building, making sure that no one up there would be able to overhear them. It had a simple pair of armchairs, a small fridge, a table with a deck of cards half open laying on it, and the smell of cigarette smoke was so strong that she found it hard to breathe.
Once they were alone with the door closed and locked, Suzuki immediately rounded on the two of them, her hand darting inside her jacket, freezing just a second later when she found herself staring into the barrel of Jack's Beretta.
"I'll put a bullet in your forehead before you can even complete the thought of pulling your gun on her," he snapped, his face a cold mask of warning.
She couldn't help but feel a rush whenever Jack threatened lives over her.
"Why is she here?"
"She's too pretty to leave at the hotel. Gotta have some kind of arm candy."
Translated into 'not your fucking concern'.
Suzuki's eyes narrowed into slits.
"How much is my bounty?" Jack demanded, ignoring her obvious distaste.
A few tense seconds ticked by, the music outside of the room filtering in, garbled and distorted.
"Three million, directly from Handa. But I'm not collecting on it."
"What the fuck are you talking about? You like money, Suzuki. You like money so damn much that if you could find a way to fuck money, you would."
"You want Handa dead, obviously, and I need something stolen."
"And were you going to tell me this before or after you broke into my hotel room?"
"It was a risk I was willing to take," she said as she dug her phone out of her jacket, scrolled for a moment, then tossed it to Jack, who caught it with the hand that didn't still have his gun trained on her. He glanced down just for a moment to look at the screen, a flash of confusion on his face.
"You are going to pass on my assassination for a cardboard box?" he asked, handing the phone back.
"It's a box of evidence. Currently housed in Scotland Yard, but it tends to move around."
"Evidence for what?"
"Agree first and I will give you all the information you need."
"Why me?" he asked, finally putting away his gun.
"Because this can't fail, and you aren't known for fucking jobs up."
"Fine, I'll do it, on one condition. She helps."
How kind of you to ask first, Jack...
"As long as you recover that box and what is inside, I don't care who helps you."
She straightened her suit and crossed the room, stopping to hand something to Jack, who was tracking her every movement.
"Here. This will tell you everything," she said, pressing a USB drive into his hand. "I will kill Handa for free."
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The Scythe's Song