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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
If she would have him?
Suddenly, something occurred to her, something that should have occurred to her a long time ago. She stepped around him and sat down on the bed, offering her hand to him.
He took it, and she tugged him down so that he was sitting in front of her, facing away from her. She pushed his hair out of the way so that she could see the swan tattoo properly. Leaning down to place a kiss on it, she busied herself with examining the rest of his back, re-reading the poem that he had inked.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"I don't know, like 'Hey Lizzie, I love you' or something like that? It might have saved us a lot of trouble."
It was as though she had been looking through a foggy window her entire life, and some gracious hand of destiny or fate had generously cleaned it for her. She was almost overwhelmed by how many things she had failed to pick up on when it came to the man in front of her.
He was currently sighing, a low sound that he usually gave when he was going to tell her something personal.
"Lizzie, I thought you knew."
"Well-"
"And I am horseshit at like...emotional level communication, you know that. There is also the fact that I would almost always rather gouge my own eyes out over making myself vulnerable."
"But-"
"And...well, I guess I was always doubtful that the feeling was mutual."
There it was. The realization that she had come to. She knew that she was terrified of being rejected, of having been wrong all that time, but it had taken her until now to understand that he had the same fear of unrequited love.
"So, what you are saying is that we are just both incredibly large idiots?" she asked, grinning, ghosting kisses over his neck.
"Yeah, I feel like we fit the stereotype of the two people in a TV show that obviously love each other, and it's obvious to the plants, animals, toddlers, inanimate objects, friends, enemies, literally everyone, yet the two people are too stupidly ignorant to see it."
"Only, it's the reverse," she said. "We knew we loved the other person but were in denial that they returned the feeling. And we stretched it out for far longer than we should have…"
"World record, probably. You know, I almost said it to you too many times to count, but I always caught myself for some ungodly unknown reason. My brain can be a paranoid insecure little shit sometimes. Who woulda thunk?"
"Insecure probably isn't the word that comes to mind when people look at you," she replied, laughing. "And I stopped myself every time I wanted to say it too. And of course, the longer I, or we, put it off, the bigger the clusterfuck of anxiety became over it."
"Mhm. The time gaps probably didn't help either."
He was right about that. Before '73, they had only been apart at most a year, normally no more than a couple of months. But the separations had still fueled her insecurities. In the age of digital technology, of course, being apart wasn't terrible because you could Skype, or text, or what-have-you, but before all of that, there was primitive telephones, telegrams, or letters. And they were both far too busy to worry about sitting down to write a letter.
And it was as though the cycle reset itself every time they returned to each other. She didn't have to worry about confessing that she loved him and getting told to fuck off if he wasn't around.
She likened the emotion she was feeling at that moment to a person who is terrified of public speaking right after they had just given a successful speech. The immense relief, the lift, the scouring of all the built up anxiety and pain and...it was all gone, and she felt light, like she could do anything.
Scooting closer to him, she laid her forehead against his shoulder.
"Want to know what I was thinking about earlier?"
"Absolutely not."
She snorted at him, circling a hand around to clasp his.
"You're funny. I was thinking about our first time together."
"...Oh," he said in surprise, as though that wasn't what he was expecting."Why?"
"Did you ever happen to read Harry Potter?"
That was something that she felt a little special knowing. He loved to read whenever he had an extended period of time to do it.
She giggled when he made a noise of confusion.
"...Um, yeah, all of them. Why?"
"Remember how you had to think of your happiest memory to summon a Patronus?"
"...Mhm…"
"That's what I would think about to summon one. Our first time."
He was quiet for a moment, and she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.
"You know, you have a special talent for turning me, a guy that can fire a gun with his eyes closed and hit eight out of seven people, into a big pile of mush. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with it."
"Maybe if you wouldn't have been so perfect that night, I wouldn't have to think about it all the time."
"Well, I mean if we could rewind back, I could be a dick to you instead."
"Shut up," she said, pinching his shoulder.
He turned around, pushing her to lay on her back, and covered her body with his.
"When you quite literally drug me up to your quarters, I had about the same level of euphoria that I had felt when I was first named the captain of the Wicked Wench. You gave me a gift that I wasn't about to make myself undeserving of."
"And now here we are, almost three centuries later, in the midst of automobiles that drive themselves, and computers that talk to you."
He leaned down and kissed her, making tingles go to all the way to her toes.
"Nevermind all of that," he said when he broke away. "I am in the midst of a very beautiful woman whom I just learned can be rightfully called mine. I think that tops anything else."
"Even though I could slaughter a room full of people with a knife while playing with my phone at the same time, you sure do know how to mush me up too," she giggled, mimicking his earlier statement.
"You don't have to tell me that you can do that. I've seen you in action, love. Besides having a burning desire for your company, you are the only person on earth that I would feel comfortable working with professionally, besides the guys."
"Professionally, the thief says."
"Hey, I'm not just a thief. Like I mentioned earlier, I'm a serial killer in Russia, an occasional street racer, a weapons aficionado, a car collector, a guitarist, and you could probably make a case for me being Don Juan Demarco too…"
"You think you are the greatest lover in the world?"
"Are you going to challenge it?" he asked, smiling down at her softly.
No, she found that she couldn't come up with a shred of a counterargument against that.
"Your level of arrogance is endearing."
Her eyes were already getting droopy again, despite the nap she had taken.
"Arrogance? There is a difference between arrogance and just knowing your own skill level."
"Uh huh, whatever you say," she said, yawning. "Let's go to bed. We can actually figure out what the fuck the job is that we were hired to do when we wake up."
He kissed her again and climbed over her to turn the light switch off again. Once her eyes got used to the darkness of the room, and she could see his face semi-well next to her, she decided to exercise her new ability.
"I love you," she whispered at him, a warm rush spreading throughout her. He tugged her closer to him, kissing her forehead, tangling his hand in her hair.
"I love you too, darling."
He said it quietly, like it was a new muscle that needed to be strengthened, but god if it didn't make her feel like he had just injected sunlight into her veins, as sappy as that sounded.
They fell asleep like that, nestled together, just as they had plenty of nights before, but this night was elevated above all the rest.
She woke rather suddenly, not for any particular reason, feeling refreshed. A surprising thing, since the clock on her phone read 6:15. The sun was just starting to come up, casting a dim orange glow throughout the room. Turning around carefully, she smiled when she saw that Jack was still asleep.
It was a beautiful thing, waking up next to the man you love, especially when the man you love was this beautiful.
Scooting a bit closer, she drew the blanket back, exposing his torso. She hadn't had a chance to get a good look at the tattoo on his chest, above his heart, until now.
It was a dragon, but it wasn't just a dragon. It was an ouroboros dragon, swallowing itself infinitely. The detail on it was incredibly intricate. She reached out and traced it with her finger, jumping a bit when she heard his sleepy voice.
"You hadn't seen that one before. I forgot."
His eyes were still closed, but he had a soft smile on his face.
"What's it for?"
"Infinity. Immortality, it seemed like an appropriate thing to ink."
"Makes sense," she replied, leaning down to place random kisses on his skin.
"Mmm. C'mere."
She kissed her way up his chest, across his neck, until finally claiming his mouth. When they broke apart, she emitted a breathy little laugh.
"I always liked your tattoos. Though I think your sparrow one might still be my favorite."
"Oh yeah? I like the poem, I think. Do you have any new ones, besides the two?"
She glanced down to her left hand, where she had a small crown inked on the back of her wrist, and a jolly roger flag just under it.
"I actually do have a new one."
She hadn't told him about it yet, and she was grateful that she had put it off until now. Turning around, she pulled her hair out of the way, exposing the back of her neck. Right in the center of her back, between her shoulder blades, was a little sparrow carrying a heart out of a broken cage.
"You showed me what freedom was. I was doodling one day and just sort of came up with it."
His fingertips brushed across it, as though he was unsure of whether it was really there or not.
"Lizzie...I don't..." and then he stopped, opting instead to kiss it, letting his lips linger.
It was bloody marvelous, this thing they had.
"We should probably get out of bed."
He sighed against her, and made a noise of annoyance. They both went in search of clothes, with Jack selecting a fresh pair of gym shorts and a Ramones t-shirt out of his closet. She picked out a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
"Ready to find out exactly what kind of shit we are in?" she asked, holding up the USB drive that she had grabbed from the drawer in the nightstand.
"Can't wait."
They made it out of the bedroom at 6:45. Jack went downstairs for a moment to do something-or-other.
Shawn was standing in the kitchen making coffee when he noticed her walk in. He was giving her a wary look, as though she might pull out a knife and attack him.
Now that she was able to look at him without wanting to knock all of his teeth out, she noticed that he looked like Seth Green in character as Scott Evil from Austin Powers, spiky black hair and annoying attitude completing the look.
"...Um..so, you're Elizabeth."
"No, I'm actually her evil twin. I moved in early this morning and killed her to take her place."
"...Right. Uh...could I just get this out of the way really quickly? I am real sorry about yesterday. I had a terrible hangover, and already had a couple shots of whiskey in me, so...didn't really think first."
"You don't strike me as the type of person that thinks first about most things," she said, crossing her arms.
"The only time he does use his brain is when he is under the hood of a car. Lucky for him, because if he fucked up one of my cars, I would really have to kill him," Jack interjected when he came upstairs.
"Well, apology accepted then, I suppose," she said.
He let out a sigh of relief. "The Mclaren should be here on Saturday. Today's Wednesday, so that makes it," he paused to count on his fingers, "three days. "
"Glad to see that you can still count to ten," Jack said, snickering. "Where's Chris?"
"He's outside, doing...pool shit or something."
Jack pulled his phone out, presumably to text him.
She decided to search the cupboards for something to eat and found a box of strawberry pop tarts.
"So, how did Jack meet you?"
"Uh, it involved him trying to swipe a car from the shop that I was working at, accidentally blowing the shop up, seeing that he had left a witness, and almost killing me before I managed to convince him that I was a car mechanic god."
He paused to finish off his coffee.
"That was hard to do with his Beretta digging into my skull though…"
"...Maybe a bit of an overreaction on my part. I was pissed that I had blown my own car up, and he was unfortunately the closest thing that I could destroy," Jack said without looking up from his phone.
"So, you're telling me that both of you were...acquired through death threats?"
Shawn barked out a laugh just as Chris walked in.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Shut up for a second," Jack said to the two of them, directing a serious gaze at Chris, who stopped in his path to the kitchen. However, rather than Shawn who looked like he was going to piss himself when Jack confronted him yesterday, Chris stood there calmly, showing no signs of weakness.
"You told her about Wakefield. Why?"
Wakefield? That was a high-security prison.
"She wanted to know what you told us about her. I told her that you said she broke your heart," he replied without hesitation.
A very brief flash of sadness took Jack away for a second, and she desperately wanted to erase the memory from his mind.
"And?"
"And then I told her that you spent four years there."
"That's it? Nothing else?"
"Nope."
There was more?
"You told her than I was an addict too."
"She asked how I met you. I had to give her some kind of explanation for why you decided to rescue a drugged out fifteen-year-old."
They both stood there, silently contemplating the other.
"...She had better be the only damn person you give my personal details out to. And next time, fucking ask me first," Jack said, and she could see the barest hint of relief in Chris' face. "Go get your laptop."
Chris nodded, disappearing downstairs again.
They all sat down around the kitchen table, each with a pop tart to munch on.
"First," she started, "Jack, I want you to tell me more about Suzuki, and also who this Handa person is."
"Sekar Handa? That's who gave Suzuki the bounty for you?" Shawn interjected, missing his mouth with the pop tart a second later.
"Yeah," Jack replied, his mouth curling in annoyance. "Suzuki is a trained assassin that specializes in killing criminals for other criminals."
"And Handa?"
"An asshole CEO who specializes in making everyone else get their hands dirty for him."
"And why does he want you dead?"
"...I might've...intercepted several things that he hired people to find for him."
"Ah. Yeah, that might piss a person off," she replied, laughing.
Chris fired up his laptop and plugged the USB drive in. They watched the light from the screen flash across his face for a moment as he navigated to the appropriate folder.
"Looks like a note she typed. I'll read it out loud."
Two months ago, the Sinaloa Cartel stole something from me, something that will remain undescribed. When I requested its return, they made a deal with me.
I learned that while some members of the Cartel were on a trip to Japan, the Yakuza murdered a Japanese government official. They framed the Cartel with planted evidence.
This is the box of evidence that I have asked you to retrieve for me, and it is what I need to give to the Cartel to have my property returned.
Since this is an international case, the evidence moves around, but for the last couple of weeks it has been housed in Scotland Yard.
When you have the evidence, return it to me. I trust that you can figure out a way to get it.
In the meantime, I will contact you once Handa is neutralized.
He looked around at Jack with a face of slight concern when he finished reading.
"So hold on a fucking minute. This psycho bitch put you in business with the Sinaloa Cartel and the Yakuza?"
Jack leaned back in his chair, an expression on his face that was a mixture of excitement, annoyance, and intrigue.
"I fucking guess," he said, drumming his fingers on the table. "So, we have to come up with a way to extract that box."
"Ha! Good luck with that, Scotland Yard is next to impossible to get into."
"...Shawn. You have the two best thieves working right now sitting at the table with you. I think we can manage it."
"Oh, right, sorry."
"I have had dealings with the Yakuza once or twice. Generally, as long as you don't try to double cross them with anything, they aren't too bad," she said, shrugging.
There had been several jobs that she had taken when she had found out that the thing she was trying to steal originally belonged to a Yakuza member, so rather than return them to her employer for her reward, she returned them to their owners. However, not all of her dealings with them had gone quite like that.
In 2014, there was one incident that involved her threatening a Yakuza higher-up's wife through a rather convoluted series of events, and that member had had it out for her ever since.
"The Yakuza aren't really known for violence, but when they do want to kill someone, they don't fuck around," Chris mused. "Speaking of killing, I forgot that I got a new gun for our armory."
Jack's face lit up like a kid that was just told about Christmas coming early. He pushed his chair back, popped the last bit of pop tart in his mouth, and pointed in the direction of the bedroom.
"Armory? Weapons aficionado indeed," she said behind him as she followed him to the large steel door to the right of the bedroom, Chris and Shawn following behind her.
She watched Jack punch in the code out of habit for memorizing codes and numbers, and he looked over his shoulder at her, smirking.
"Don't bother, I change it every week," he said, smirking wider when she made a face at him.
The door opened to a white room that looked like the United States Military had moved into it, or perhaps the McManus brothers were real people, and had lent Jack their weapons collection. There were a couple of ropes hanging in the back.
On the right wall, a shitload of guns, on the left wall, a fuckload of guns, and on the back wall, a fuckload of knives.
"And how many of these did you buy?"
Jack barked out a laugh.
"You know me too well, love. Exactly one of these was actually paid for."
"This one," Chris said, holding up a beautifully crafted black SIG P210. He handed it to her, and she noticed that there was a little silver sparrow inlay on the grip.
"Custom made?"
"Yep, payed a pretty penny for it. It's the one I take with me most of the time," Jack said.
"Yeah, the only way anyone would disarm him while he's carrying that is if they pried it from his dead hands," Shawn said from across the room.
She heard Jack say a quiet 'wow' from behind her as she was examining his rifles, and turned around to find him with a rather large sniper rifle in his hands.
"It's a Barret 82A1, military grade rifle. Been wanting one of these for awhile," he explained when he noticed her staring.
Whoever or whatever Jack would be aiming at with that didn't stand a chance. He was lethal behind a sniper rifle, especially when he was providing cover fire for her. There was no way in hell he would let anyone get within 10 feet of her before they had a .50 caliber bullet in the back of their head.
He also had several AK's, a Titanium Gold Desert Eagle, a whole slew of assault rifles, a bunch of pistols, a couple of shotguns, and two tranquilizer guns.
"If you ever need to get in here, love, I have an emergency button in my room that I'll show you that unlocks the door automatically."
He paused to walk over to the area with the pistols, and then selected one, turning to the back right corner where he kept all of the ammunition in an organized drawer unit.
After he loaded it, he handed it to her.
"Here, put this in our room. I have a spot for a pistol attached to the back of the nightstand next to where you sleep."
"What about you?"
"Me? I have guns hidden all over this house. It would have to be a fucking cyborg to survive for more than 30 seconds if I am in the vicinity. But if I'm not here, for whatever reason, you need to keep that next to you."
Shawn snorted. "One time, this guy that Jack stole a car from thought it would be a good idea to try and do a home invasion here. He brought a couple 'a thugs with him. Big dudes. Prolly thought they could punch him to death or something-"
"Yeah, I remember that." Chris interrupted. "We got here and one had almost an entire AK round in his torso, two of them had bullet holes in their heads, and the main guy was laying on the kitchen table with a knife in his heart. Suffice it to say, no one has tried that since."
Jack put the rifle back on the wall and left the room, the three of them following him out.
"Chris, I need you to make a map of routes with regards to Scotland Yard. Entry routes, exit routes, normal traffic around the area, and we're-in-a-big-fuckin'-hurry routes for a quick escape."
He nodded and disappeared down the stairs to the basement.
"Shawn, you need to find me a floor plan of the place. Make note of doors, fire escapes, and special interest areas."
He also disappeared downstairs.
"Do I have a job?" she asked him in a playful tone.
"Mhm," he replied, backing her up against the wall. "Your job is to kiss me."
She laughed against his mouth when he did exactly that, his hands disappearing under her shirt. After a few minutes of sensory assault on her person, he broke away.
"How would you feel about going out to dinner tonight?"
"Mmm, if only to see you in a suit again."
"I think you just like taking me out of a suit, darling."
Then she remembered the lingerie that she had bought. Oh, it would be a perfect night to surprise him with it.
She followed Jack to the living room and lounged on the couch while he called the restaurant.
"Hello? Hi, I need a table for two later tonight, say 8:30?"
"Great, thanks."
She could wear one of the new dresses she had bought. It was a lovely champagne red pencil dress with a rather plunging neckline.
"In the meantime, Jack, I wouldn't mind slaughtering you in some Mortal Kombat."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I saw it on your shelf," she said in a smart-ass tone.
"You're in for a rude awakening if you think you are going to slaughter me in that."
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Scythe's Song