bringmethatnpc | Stabbing the Heart

Stabbing the Heart

He'd almost made it. Jack had been sneaking across the Dutchman's deck, chest secure in hand, when Jones and his crew had spotted him.

"Looky here, boys -- a lost bird that never learned to fly!"

As they advance on him, Jack backs up against the edge of the deck -- then leaps up on the rail and wraps one hand in a particular lanyard. His sudden grin is filled with manic amusement.

"Never too late to learn, aye?" With no more warning than that, he slams the chest against the half-rotten wood brace securing the line and is promptly yanked aloft.

Unfortunately, Jones doesn't need any such trick to go wherever he wishes to on this particular ship, and as Jack turns to make his swaying way toward the tenuous safety of the mainmast, he finds himself facing the Dutchman's furious captain over the point of a sword.

"The chest-- hand it over!"

Jack backs up a step, drawing his own sword, and there's something strangely knowing in the black eyes.

"I can set you free, mate."

"My freedom was forfeit long ago!" Jones snarls, and strikes.

Now, as one battle rages on the decks below, another takes place on the yardarm of the Flying Dutchman. With a wild slash, Jack sends several wiggling tentacles from Jones's beard falling to the deck below -- one of them still clutching the key to the chest. He receives a blow in return that sends him staggering backward, and as he brings his sword up in defense Jones snaps it in two with his claw.

Having no other defense left, Jack counters the next strike by using the chest itself as club, which in turn brings it within reach of Jones, who promptly grabs it. As Jack Sparrow and Davy Jones engage in a strange tug-of-war over the chest that contains Jones's heart, Jack can't help but grin.

Bloody ridiculous, is what this is.

Evidently Jones agrees, for with a particularly harsh, violent swing, he manages to yank Jack from his perch and send him flying through the air in truth.

It's a stroke of fortune that the air's so full of invading fishy pirates, however, and as he falls Jack collides with one swinging across on a rope. In the ensuing scramble for a good grip, Jack notices a pistol shoved in the other man's belt. Black eyes widen in shock.

I know that gun!

On the instant, Jack snatches Mal's pistol free and delivers a hard blow to Clanker's head with the butt of the gun.

"Oi! My pistol!"

As the stunned pirate falls, Jack swings himself around, searching for Jones--

--there!

BANG!

Jack's a good shot, and as Mal Reynolds could tell anyone who asked, it's a good gun. The bullet goes true, knocking the chest from Davy Jones's hands and into the chaos below.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Looking away -- buying Will Turner moments to live -- Jones finds his heart in another man's hand.

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparra'!" he snarls back. This is something like what they'll some day call a Mexican Standoff.

Jack doesn't flinch, nor does he look away as he flatly informs the Dutchman's cursed captain,

"Cruel is a matter of perspective."

"Is it?"

How's this? A sword into the breast of a young man, while his lover-turned-wife looks on? A twist of the blade, to make him scream...

Jack shouldn't try an educate a master on what cruelty is. Jones will teach them better!

Wait, that wasn't...

Will cries out and his back arches involuntarily, which only serves to thrust his chest deeper against the sword.

The blade twists, and all other thoughts vanish completely in a wave of hot blackness.

No.

A strangled gasp escapes the sudden constriction in Elizabeth's throat. She can't breathe, can't organize her limbs to throw Jones aside and hurry to Will, but her body jerks as if she feels the blade plunge into her own flesh.

She gapes at Will with wide, horrified eyes, seconds away from shaking her head in denial.

The heart gives a leap in his hand as his fingers inadvertently tighten on it, then continues its steady beat. Jones is laughing at him, but Jack only notices it at an odd distance as he stares at the lad lying so still on the deck.

William.

Something's gone wrong, and Will's not sure he knows what. They'd won - hadn't they? He had Elizabeth, Jack had the Heart. And now...

His breath catches in his chest, seering his lungs as he gasps for air. (Looking up, he sees the handle of a sword which he's sure he recognises - did he make that?)

...now the situation is completely out of his control.

As soon as Jones moves, Elizabeth stumbles to Will's side, drops to her knees and cups his face in her shaking hands.

"Will," she croaks. "Look at me... stay with me! You're all right."

He has to be.

He stands there for several seconds, staring at the knife, his motionless form giving no sign of the struggle going on behind his eyes.

The voice of the ship is still there, everywhere; not like fog now but like the sea itself, filling his mind like water filling his lungs. But it's no longer the only voice in him.

"William."

Bootstrap Bill Turner straightens, and turns. And sees.

"My son!"

And lunges forward, broken sword and borrowed knife both forgotten, to attack Davy Jones with his bare hands.

As Jones and Bootstrap go staggering across the deck, locked together in wild struggle, Jack finds that it's suddenly difficult to breathe.

(to be free forever)

The hand holding the blade twitches as he looks down at the heart in something like desperation--

(free from death itself)

--and then back up at Will Turner, with Elizabeth now frantic at his side.

Elizabeth.

I love you.

Will's finding it harder to keep his eyes open, but when he does manage, all he can see is her. She's upset: scared. The last time he saw her this distraught was when her father sailed off.

I'm proud of you.

He wants to tell her how much he loves her, and how the pain isn't so much, and that he'll tell that she made it through, but his throat is full of something wet and he can't find the breath.

I chose you.

The worst thing is not being able to console her.

Elizabeth is aware of nothing but Will.

"Will! Will! Look at me," she demands, willing him to open his eyes when they slip closed. "Look at me!"

If he sees her face, he won't leave. He wouldn't do that to her. Even as she thinks it she knows it's not rational, but his skin is so pale and he's dying.

Batting Bootstrap away is akin to swatting flies; Jones throws him off with little honest effort in the motion. You'd think grief would make a man stronger...

He rounds on the OTHER William Turner, sword in hand. "You will not forestall my judgment!"

Certainly, it would be fitting to end it for both of them, and send them on down to hell now; the sword is lifted, ready and poised to strike.

In the end, it all comes down to just one thing.

(what a man can do, and what a man can't do)

Stab the heart and live forever-- aye, that he could do.

But living with himself forever after doing so... well, that's something else entirely.

THUD.

The broken blade slams home, squelching as it passes through the cursed flesh and solidly into the deck below.

Jack Sparrow lets go of Will's arm, allowing Will's hand to fall limply away from the hilt of the sword that pierces the heart, and looks up at Davy Jones.

Once, Davy Jones thought that Calypso's betrayal would kill him. Then, he thought the pain from carving out the muscle would surely be the end of him. Strange how a broken sword in a dead man's hand, really, is what ends him.

Every tentacle that builds his beard up spasms wildly, thrashing with sudden, terrible pain as he staggers toward the rise of the ship, his great round eyes wide with sudden pain and the slow approach of it's surcease.

He looks up, shocked, stunned, dying as surely as Will did, and murmurs the only thing he can think of-- a woman's name, a plea to an unforgiving God...

"Calypso..."

And then the storm claims him as he topples backward into the maelstrom, lost to the depths -- the loving embrace of the sea that would be tamed for no man -- not even the one who loved her best.

Perhaps is it no surprise that the maelstrom begins to calm when Jones is gone beneath the black and choppy waves...

On the Pearl, Barbossa looks up at the entangled mess of masts and rigging, and shouts at the top of his lungs.

"She's taking us down! Make quick, or it's the locker fr'us all!"

After all of this, he isn't losing -his- Pearl to a lousy maelstrom and an indestructible cursed ship. Not while he can still command the crew to do what must be done.

(OOC: If Gibbs-mun or anyone else wants to tag with the rest of the scenelet aboard the PEarl, now's the time. If not, I will finish it myself)

Mullroy offers a hand to Murtogg as they finally decide to risk climbing over the side of the Black Pearl. Fortunately, no one seems that interested in engaging the two in combat in their struggels to escape the tangle dragging both ships down.

Chain shot fires straight up and through the uppermost masts, cutting through the mess to free the Pearl, and eventually it sails free.

Now if only they can find a way to continue to escape notice...

There's nothing to be done: Jones is dead, and Will -- his son, his brave son, here because he made a promise -- is dying. Jack Sparrow is watching in silence; Elizabeth is kneeling by his side, in tears; and neither of them is doing anything at all, because there's nothing to be done.

No, that's not quite right. There's one thing.

Bootstrap's hand wraps around his knife and pulls it out of the railing.

It doesn't hurt anymore.

Elizabeth is holding him, crying hysterically and begging him to stay. But he's not going anywhere: he can't go anywhere because his legs don't seem to want to work. He tries to lift his arms to hold her to him, but somehow they're not working either. She's so upset.

He tells her he loves her. That he's not afraid. That he's glad he chose her. That he'd do it again and again, only this time he'd never be a fool to believe she doesn't love him. He tells her he's sorry he doubted her, that he's sorry he left her to come over to the Dutchman. He tells her he's sorry he failed. He smiles and kisses her tears away, and tells her he's going to stop anything from hurting her ever again.

He does all this in intention, but all he has the strength to do is open his eyes as far as they'll go and take in everything about her. To stay with her for as long as possible. To make her the last thing he sees. To fill his last breath with Elizabeth Turner.

Then his eyes droop shut, and he sighs for the last time.

He's not afraid.

Jack stabs the heart, and Elizabeth thinks He'll live. Davy Jones, that murderer, whispers a name and topples into the sea, and Elizabeth thinks He'll live.

To think otherwise would be to give up, and Elizabeth is ever determined.

For a heart-wrenching moment, with Will's eyes open wide and full of his deep, unshakable love, a love she relies on like she needs air to breathe, Elizabeth almost believes he'll recover. Trembling fingers lightly smooth the sides of his face as if she can convince him to stay through gentle touch alone. Her breath catches; there's too much she wants to say, so much more than the denial and pleas to stay, but other words stick in her throat like sand.

I love you.

His eyes close and, with a sickening, hollow certainty, she knows they won't open again.

"No," Elizabeth whispers, fingers tightening on his (lifeless) face. "No. No! NOOOOO!"

That's not how it was supposed to work, he thinks, almost numbly. Jack remains still and quiet, watching the two of them.

A second or two later, it's the low rumbling of a muttered chant that catches his attention.

Jack turns his head and spots Bootstrap, and black eyes widen suddenly.

He steps forward, the knife in his hand, dimly aware of the others gathering around him in singleminded unison. The murmuring chant goes up: part of the ship, part of the crew. part of the ship, part of the crew.

Hearing nothing but her own sobs, Elizabeth clings to Will.

"Don't leave me!" she cries frantically, even though he's already gone.

The realization of what's happening crashes over him with the force of a wave.

The Flying Dutchman has never been a place for the living.

Jack leaps to his feet and grabs Elizabeth by the shoulders, dragging her roughly away from the body of Will Turner.

"Come on!"

Elizabeth fights, struggling and kicking and reaching for her husband, her Will. She isn't aware of anything outside her grief and has no intention of lettiing this be goodbye.

"I won't leave you!"

It's a shriek full of desperation, but Jack's grip is far too sure. Despite her best efforts, he rips her away from Will.

Stabbing the Heart

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