A Most Unusual Interest | By : Nemain Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 5187 -:- 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. |
A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Thirty Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: Mea maxima culpa… RL is
being an ass. *sigh* I’m wrapping this fic
up and in a week or so, starting a sequel!
J Thank you so much for reading and reviewing
as you can!
Elizabeth
wanted to be physically ill. She had
never felt so helpless in her entire life as she did watching Will try not to
writhe in agony. She could see the
muscles under his tan skin twitching in pain, his breath was coming in short
gasps and his eyes were watering. “Don’t,
Will,” she said quietly, choking on her tears.
“Don’t… we’re going to die together in our old age, remember? Side by
side in bed, scandalizing the servants?”
She stroked his hand and could feel his tremble answering her own. “Tell me what to do,” she muttered, crying
feely now. “Tell me what to do…”
He shook
his head and pressed his lips together, trying to keep calm. The doctor had let
two bowls of blood, sniffing the contents and doing other things Will could not
see. He was not encouraged by the hmming and grunting noises the physician had made. He was not cold anymore, though, and he took
that as a good sign. “Water,” he finally whispered. The purgative had made him painfully
thirsty. “Please?”
Loathe to leave his side, Elizabeth
hesitated for a moment until Will inhaled sharply, a cough rattling in his
chest. She flew from the room, her
skirts whipping about her legs and her feet slipping on the smooth wooden
floors. She did not stop until she reached
the stone jug of water kept near the door to the small back garden. It was too heavy to run all the way back with
so she tore around the kitchen, finally coming up with a goblet from her father’s
house, a gift for her wedding, and splashed the water into it, spilling more
than she saved. She had to run back up
the stairs a shade more carefully but she managed to make it with most of the
precious liquid. Will was very still and
for one horrible moment, she thought the worst.
“Thank you,”
he breathed, no opening his eyes.
Elizabeth
exhaled on a whoosh of breath and hurried to his side, tipping the goblet onto
his lips. She was shaking so hard that
the water started to splash and run down his chin and neck before he could part
his lips and drink it awkwardly. “I don’t
know what to do,” she breathed. “God
help me, I don’t know what to do…”
The sound
of breaking wood and shattering glass made them both jump, sending Will into
spasms of pain and Elizabeth to her feet, reaching for the first weapon she
could find, one of Will’s swords. She
ran around the end of the bed and put herself in front of the door, sword
wielded with both hands. Footsteps
sounded on the stairs, light but fast, more than one set. She swallowed hard. She was not going to let anyone get to Will
unless she was dead between them. The
steps paused outside the door and she braced herself, preparing to swing,
raising the sword as the door swung open.
“Not happy
to see us then?” Jack asked, recoiling as Elizabeth
gasped and dropped the blade.
“Jack!” she
sobbed, surprising even herself as she flung herself at the startled
pirate. Myrtle pressed herself against the
doorframe, unable to fit her curvaceous form past Jack and into the room. “Will’s been poisoned!”
“With what?” Myrtle snapped before Jack could. “Oh, move!e pie pinched him, making him move
enough for her to fit through the space.
“Did he use a needle?”
Elizabeth
sniffed mightily. “A quill… how did you
know…”
“Hush,”
Myrtle hissed, turning to find the trunk.
“It’s been opened,” she barked. “How long?”
“Hour?” Elizabeth
positied, startled.
She pulled away from Jack, who was narrowing his eyes at Myrtle.
“Myrtle,”
he gritted as she retrieved bundles of herbs from the trunk, “talk.”
“Richard is
insane,” she stated simply. “He believes
he has the power of a god. On his first
trip here at the King’s request, he became…changed.” She paused and looked up at them. “He’s been
bled.” She did not give Elizabeth
a chance to answer before she continued, tipping a small packet of some powder
into the remaining water. “He believed
that he was destined… he found… found something here that is not natural.”
“What are
you giving him?” Elizabeth demanded,
held back by Jack’s death grip on her elbow.
“Antidote. Richard did not poison him, merely sickened
him. HE was never good at potions…” She tipped the mixture into Will’s mouth,
rubbing his throat to make him swallow. “Richard
is greedy. He wants power and he was
promised it… He learned the dark ways, things that should never have left these
islands. He can make the walking dead,
like Goliath,” she nodded to Jack. “I
did not want to believe it until I had to…”
“What about
your sisters?” he asked. “His slaughter
on the ships…”
Myrtle
shook her head and glanced up at Elizabeth. “The brown powder is in my trunk. Give him more in an hour. If
he’s not better… I’m sorry. That’s all I know how to do.” She turned to Jack. “This is all my
fault. I should have let him have me at
the beginning.”
“You make
my head ache,” he sighed. He was
worried, to say the least, for his friends but seeing Myrtle suddenly forceful
made a curious thing happen to his stomach.
“Myrtle, calm down.”
“Jack,” she
began, the froze.
“Oh, God.”
Richard
stepped through the open door. “You
could not have been easier to follow if you’d carried a torch.”
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