Power of the Sparrow
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,243
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
23
Views:
9,243
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
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.
Chapter 18 - Battle and Loss
Title: Power of the Sparrow
Author: Hellborne (the_ferret_mom@yahoo.com)
Age Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: Characters, if you saw them in the movie, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Typing convention: / is used for thoughts. * - * - * is used for scene changes and passages of time.
Summary: Will gives Jack a birthday present. Unfortunately, it's cursed. J/W, O/J.
Warnings: Torture, N/C, SMBD, slash, H/C, angst, lemon, major sadomasochism.
Betas: The two greatest BetaGoddesses in the world, Pendragginink and Littlebird! You're both truly magnificent, and I wouldn't be able to write half as well without you!
NOTE: I live for reviews. Being quite depressed lately about my health and missing my job, I could really use some reviews...and don't think I'm begging for cudos! I happen to love flames and constructive criticism just as much and sometimes more! Lord knows, without constructive criticism, I'd have never fixed some of the boo-boos I've made!
* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *
Chapter 18 - Battle and Loss
Will stared, unable to move, overwhelming shock and disgust rooting him to the spot while Pearl, now obviously a demon, raised her sword aiming for the kill. Will desperately cast about for a way to combat her, any way at all, then suddenly remembered the silver dagger he'd used successfully against his father. He pulled it out and lunged, plunging the shining weapon deep into the throat of the hell-born beast the 'living' Pearl had become. She screamed her outrage, shrieking as the blade struck home, her blood, pitch black and steaming erupted from the wound, coating Will's right hand, burning him with liquid fire.
He fought to stay on his feet; to hang on to the dagger; to remain conscious, sweat stinging his eyes, tasting of Jack and the sea as it fell in great drops from his lips now pulled back in a fierce snarl; his vision growing dim as white-hot pain flowed through the veins of his arm all the way to his shoulder.
Impaled on the dagger, Pearl stood clutching her throat, fearful, wary of the blade imbedded in her neck, her hands avoiding the dagger as if the mere touch of the silver implement would poison her. Her mouth wide open in a silent howl, her hands scrabbled wildly at her throat, scratching it open with sharp talons, trying to break free of the twisting dagger. She fell backward onto the deck, hissing in torment as she disappeared. The ship and everyone on it plunged into darkness. The gleaming dagger dropped harmlessly to the deck.
As the darkness fell, Bill Turner appeared beside his son now dropped to the deck on all fours, his strength having failed him at last Will struggled to breathe, his chest working like bellows. In a smooth, practiced motion, Bill grasped Will's sword from the deck and swung hard from the shoulder, severing his son's hand just above the wrist, where none of the demon's blood had reached.
In a haze of pain and shock, Will gasped for air, barely conscious as he watched his hand lopped off by his own father using a sword forged by the very hand it now cleaved, shivering to see that severed hand land several feet away and literally dissolve into a pool of steaming muck.
Bill hurriedly bound the stump tightly with his own belt, cutting off the flow of blood that spurted thickly from the arm with every heartbeat, adding to the fast-growing blood-puddle pooling obscenely about their feet.
"And so would have gone the rest of you as well, my William. Thank God she lost control when she did." He gathered his barely conscious son into his arms, carrying him carefully down the steps to the deck, bringing him inside the main cabin, bullying his way through the gawking crowd of living crewmembers that parted in front of him like the wave before the bow of a great ship and closed again in his wake.
As Bill shouldered open the double doors into the cabin, the doctor straightened up from where he was leaning over Jack on the bunk. He motioned Bill to place Will on the large table which Norrington efficiently cleared by sweeping, stiff-armed, all objects to the floor. Doctor and Commodore helped Bill lay his wounded boy down gently on the table, the Commodore propping him up on several pillows, trying as best he could to bring what little comfort there may be. The doctor moved to examine Will, but Bill waved him away.
Will struggled to speak through the red haze of pain. "Are you all right, Father? She..."
Bill hushed him, laughing heartily. "Shusht! Aye, lad, I be fair middling, right enough for a Dead man! You, on the other hand..." Bill winced as he said "hand", realizing his quick action of saving Will's life by the taking of his hand, though warranted, was to have far-reaching effect-if indeed the boy lived at all. "Lad...it's a priest you need, aye, and in short order."
Will was confused. "Why a priest? You cut off my hand...the demon blood...is gone, what more can be needed? Do I need..." Disoriented by pain and ill with shock, Will drifted muzzily.
Bill shook his head. "For the gash on your arm, Will, 't was made by a blade forged in the fires of Hell itself. Its evil is still spreading throughout your soul, tainting it to the point that you're surely destined for Hell no matter that you've been nigh unto a saint your entire life. You need to bathe it in Holy Water within three days or you'll be damned to Hell for Eternity."
"But the wound isn't mortal, a cut so small as this, surely it couldn't kill me?" Will looked at his left arm, now being carefully examined by the persistant doctor, then back to his father.
"Oh aye, but it can, Lad: slowly and painfully, I can see it rotting your arm already; it'll kill you all right...eventually. But long before that, you'll be damned and feel your soul dying by inches. Believe me, Will. You must bathe your arm in Holy Water or you'll be lost to Jack forever." Neither Will nor his father noticed that Bill had not said "lost to Jack and me."
"And my hand? You cut it off in the zone of darkness. Will it..." Will's face grew pale, his eyes wide as the horror of the situation came clear to him. "It will grow back...when it heals...won't it?" Will anxiously searched his dead father's face for some small sign of hope.
Bill shook his head again. "There's no hand to put back on you. If I could have saved it, I swear to you, I would have, but Pearl's blood will eat through anything of mortal flesh. And venomous it is too...had I not cut off your hand, the poison would have killed you in minutes."
Will's head cleared a bit now that he could breathe and he felt himself growing somewhat stronger; no longer dulled by shock, the pain was excruciating, a living thing on its own...but at least he no longer felt like he'd pass out the next second. He bravely looked at his right arm, seeing that it now ended at the stump of a wrist, where his hand should have been; the wound had stopped bleeding completely and was rapidly sealing itself, almost closed. He watched fascinated for a moment while it finished healing, until the familiar low groan of Jack in pain drew his attenton.
Jack lay on his back in the same position, unmoving, breathing erratically and though still unconscious, moaning softly while Commodore Norrington and the naval doctor were conversing in hushed voices at the foot of the bed. Will broke away from his father's embrace, struggling to sit up; he felt Bill's firm hand on his back, helping to support him. He sat still for a moment, getting his breath, then gaining his feet and holding his agonized arm to his chest, staggered to Jack's side and felt his forehead. "No fever. Doctor, why is he moaning? He didn't do that before. I thought you said he was in very little pain."
The doctor, having blanched at his first sight of Bill, now looked at Will's more normal appearance and seemed to recover a bit. "Ah...yes. That was before we arrived in the area of darkness. He IS healing. His neck injuries healed first, unfortunately, so now he can feel sensation in his body and is experiencing the pain of the other injuries." The doctor rocked back and forth on his toes, shaking his head slowly in wonderment. "It is absolutely amazing. If it continues at this present rate, I believe he shall be completely healed by this evening."
Movement from the bed interrupted them, drawing their attention. Both Will and Bill leaned over the gravely injured man, faces anxious, drawn with concern for their badly wounded friend. When Jack opened his eyes, he smiled wanly, looking from father to son. "Made it, did we?" His voice was high and weak, creaking like a rusty hinge.
* - * - *
TBC
Author: Hellborne (the_ferret_mom@yahoo.com)
Age Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: Characters, if you saw them in the movie, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Typing convention: / is used for thoughts. * - * - * is used for scene changes and passages of time.
Summary: Will gives Jack a birthday present. Unfortunately, it's cursed. J/W, O/J.
Warnings: Torture, N/C, SMBD, slash, H/C, angst, lemon, major sadomasochism.
Betas: The two greatest BetaGoddesses in the world, Pendragginink and Littlebird! You're both truly magnificent, and I wouldn't be able to write half as well without you!
NOTE: I live for reviews. Being quite depressed lately about my health and missing my job, I could really use some reviews...and don't think I'm begging for cudos! I happen to love flames and constructive criticism just as much and sometimes more! Lord knows, without constructive criticism, I'd have never fixed some of the boo-boos I've made!
* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *
Chapter 18 - Battle and Loss
Will stared, unable to move, overwhelming shock and disgust rooting him to the spot while Pearl, now obviously a demon, raised her sword aiming for the kill. Will desperately cast about for a way to combat her, any way at all, then suddenly remembered the silver dagger he'd used successfully against his father. He pulled it out and lunged, plunging the shining weapon deep into the throat of the hell-born beast the 'living' Pearl had become. She screamed her outrage, shrieking as the blade struck home, her blood, pitch black and steaming erupted from the wound, coating Will's right hand, burning him with liquid fire.
He fought to stay on his feet; to hang on to the dagger; to remain conscious, sweat stinging his eyes, tasting of Jack and the sea as it fell in great drops from his lips now pulled back in a fierce snarl; his vision growing dim as white-hot pain flowed through the veins of his arm all the way to his shoulder.
Impaled on the dagger, Pearl stood clutching her throat, fearful, wary of the blade imbedded in her neck, her hands avoiding the dagger as if the mere touch of the silver implement would poison her. Her mouth wide open in a silent howl, her hands scrabbled wildly at her throat, scratching it open with sharp talons, trying to break free of the twisting dagger. She fell backward onto the deck, hissing in torment as she disappeared. The ship and everyone on it plunged into darkness. The gleaming dagger dropped harmlessly to the deck.
As the darkness fell, Bill Turner appeared beside his son now dropped to the deck on all fours, his strength having failed him at last Will struggled to breathe, his chest working like bellows. In a smooth, practiced motion, Bill grasped Will's sword from the deck and swung hard from the shoulder, severing his son's hand just above the wrist, where none of the demon's blood had reached.
In a haze of pain and shock, Will gasped for air, barely conscious as he watched his hand lopped off by his own father using a sword forged by the very hand it now cleaved, shivering to see that severed hand land several feet away and literally dissolve into a pool of steaming muck.
Bill hurriedly bound the stump tightly with his own belt, cutting off the flow of blood that spurted thickly from the arm with every heartbeat, adding to the fast-growing blood-puddle pooling obscenely about their feet.
"And so would have gone the rest of you as well, my William. Thank God she lost control when she did." He gathered his barely conscious son into his arms, carrying him carefully down the steps to the deck, bringing him inside the main cabin, bullying his way through the gawking crowd of living crewmembers that parted in front of him like the wave before the bow of a great ship and closed again in his wake.
As Bill shouldered open the double doors into the cabin, the doctor straightened up from where he was leaning over Jack on the bunk. He motioned Bill to place Will on the large table which Norrington efficiently cleared by sweeping, stiff-armed, all objects to the floor. Doctor and Commodore helped Bill lay his wounded boy down gently on the table, the Commodore propping him up on several pillows, trying as best he could to bring what little comfort there may be. The doctor moved to examine Will, but Bill waved him away.
Will struggled to speak through the red haze of pain. "Are you all right, Father? She..."
Bill hushed him, laughing heartily. "Shusht! Aye, lad, I be fair middling, right enough for a Dead man! You, on the other hand..." Bill winced as he said "hand", realizing his quick action of saving Will's life by the taking of his hand, though warranted, was to have far-reaching effect-if indeed the boy lived at all. "Lad...it's a priest you need, aye, and in short order."
Will was confused. "Why a priest? You cut off my hand...the demon blood...is gone, what more can be needed? Do I need..." Disoriented by pain and ill with shock, Will drifted muzzily.
Bill shook his head. "For the gash on your arm, Will, 't was made by a blade forged in the fires of Hell itself. Its evil is still spreading throughout your soul, tainting it to the point that you're surely destined for Hell no matter that you've been nigh unto a saint your entire life. You need to bathe it in Holy Water within three days or you'll be damned to Hell for Eternity."
"But the wound isn't mortal, a cut so small as this, surely it couldn't kill me?" Will looked at his left arm, now being carefully examined by the persistant doctor, then back to his father.
"Oh aye, but it can, Lad: slowly and painfully, I can see it rotting your arm already; it'll kill you all right...eventually. But long before that, you'll be damned and feel your soul dying by inches. Believe me, Will. You must bathe your arm in Holy Water or you'll be lost to Jack forever." Neither Will nor his father noticed that Bill had not said "lost to Jack and me."
"And my hand? You cut it off in the zone of darkness. Will it..." Will's face grew pale, his eyes wide as the horror of the situation came clear to him. "It will grow back...when it heals...won't it?" Will anxiously searched his dead father's face for some small sign of hope.
Bill shook his head again. "There's no hand to put back on you. If I could have saved it, I swear to you, I would have, but Pearl's blood will eat through anything of mortal flesh. And venomous it is too...had I not cut off your hand, the poison would have killed you in minutes."
Will's head cleared a bit now that he could breathe and he felt himself growing somewhat stronger; no longer dulled by shock, the pain was excruciating, a living thing on its own...but at least he no longer felt like he'd pass out the next second. He bravely looked at his right arm, seeing that it now ended at the stump of a wrist, where his hand should have been; the wound had stopped bleeding completely and was rapidly sealing itself, almost closed. He watched fascinated for a moment while it finished healing, until the familiar low groan of Jack in pain drew his attenton.
Jack lay on his back in the same position, unmoving, breathing erratically and though still unconscious, moaning softly while Commodore Norrington and the naval doctor were conversing in hushed voices at the foot of the bed. Will broke away from his father's embrace, struggling to sit up; he felt Bill's firm hand on his back, helping to support him. He sat still for a moment, getting his breath, then gaining his feet and holding his agonized arm to his chest, staggered to Jack's side and felt his forehead. "No fever. Doctor, why is he moaning? He didn't do that before. I thought you said he was in very little pain."
The doctor, having blanched at his first sight of Bill, now looked at Will's more normal appearance and seemed to recover a bit. "Ah...yes. That was before we arrived in the area of darkness. He IS healing. His neck injuries healed first, unfortunately, so now he can feel sensation in his body and is experiencing the pain of the other injuries." The doctor rocked back and forth on his toes, shaking his head slowly in wonderment. "It is absolutely amazing. If it continues at this present rate, I believe he shall be completely healed by this evening."
Movement from the bed interrupted them, drawing their attention. Both Will and Bill leaned over the gravely injured man, faces anxious, drawn with concern for their badly wounded friend. When Jack opened his eyes, he smiled wanly, looking from father to son. "Made it, did we?" His voice was high and weak, creaking like a rusty hinge.
* - * - *
TBC