Leave Me Lying Here

Title: Leave Me Lying Here (30/?) 08/23/03

Author: Lydia NightShade (nightshade10312001@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Jack/Will; Ana Maria/Elizabeth

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, angst, some blood, some gay bashing and horrible villianization of certain characters. Mostly just swearing and bruises though. Heh, lipstick and bruises! I love that song!

Disclaimer: HA! I own nothing! I’m a pathetic college student that can’t seem to stop writing gay porn! LoL! It’s a sickness really….or an obsession….hmmmm. The title is a line from the Veruca Salt song Volcano Girls. I don’t own that either I just think it goes well with the fic and I love Veruca Salt!

Beta: Mistaya and Mike

Feedback: Pretty please. I know I take forever to update, but are you still with me?

Summary: Will goes home… he is not happy. Barbossa gets to be the bastard we all know him to be! What a good little asshole he is. *nods*

Author’s Notes: Whoot. Spring Break insomnia, isn’t it swell? Most college students are in someplace warm and tropical right about now. Drinking something insanely alcoholic and dancing with hot sweaty strangers… me? Oh, I’m sitting here in my messy room waiting for the SNOW to start falling and writing gay porn at fucking one in the morning. Bitter? Naaaaaah… *punches hole in wall* Heh! Well look at that!

Author’s Notes 2: I started an LJ community called bullshit_lies It’s basically fake news mocking the ridiculous stories the tabloids come up with. We use stupid pictures of celebrities and make up stories behind them. Nothing on it is true, it’s all for laughs. Come check it out. If you like Weekly World News then you must check this out. We’re even more ridiculous lol!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Area code eight-six-zero, eight, six, seven, five, three, zero, nine…” Jack held the phone up to his head and waited as the phone began to ring. It was a dull throbbing in his ear, the only noise on the dark lonely street that made it to his ear. He watched the people walking past, but it all seemed like an old silent movie. Faces meant nothing, colors were faded. What was the point?

“Swann residence, how may I help you?” came a sweet voice from the other side of the line. Jack jumped slightly at the change in tones, not realizing he had drifted off. “Hello?”

“Um… yeah… I’m… I’m the…” A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he tried to muster up the words he needed in order to inform Will’s family as to where to find him. “C-Could I speak to someone in charge?” He bounced in his stance, crinkling his brow in uncertainty and self confusion as to why he had asked that.

“Certainly, sir. I’ll put you through to Mr. Barbossa. He’s handling most of Master Swann’s calls these days.”

“Thank you,” Jack breathed, resting his head against the cool glass of the phone booth. This was so much harder than his original phone call for ransom. There was a silence and then an annoyed baritone voice came on.

“This is Dorian Barbossa, to whom am I speaking?” Jack licked his lips, not sure what to say. This was worse than the presentations he had to make in grade school.

“Um… I… I know where William Turn—Swann is.” He paused, waiting for the weight of his statement to fully sink into Barbossa’s consciousness. There was a long quiet on the other side, then what sounded like fingers snapping and papers rustling. “Still there?”

“YES!” Barbossa cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “I mean… Yes, I’m still here. Where is young Mr. Swann, we’ve been ever so worried,” he replied with fake sincerity. Jack rolled his eyes, remembering his previous encounter with the Swann family.

“I’m sure. That wasn’t the impression I received before.” Jack snapped, not being able to help himself. Barbossa raised an eyebrow then smirked. So he had the very source of his migraines on the phone at this very moment.

“Let me guess, you want the reward?” Barbossa queried.

“I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the stupid fucking money, OK?! That’s not what it’s about—he’s not safe!” Slapping a hand over his mouth, Jack banged his head against the glass for his emotional outburst. What the fuck was happening to him? He could hear Barbossa chuckling on the other side, making a pathetic attempt to hide it.

“Is this your first kidnapping?”

“Fuck you! Listen to me. I left him inside house thirteen, thirteen on Mockingbird Lane…” he proceeded to rattle off the address, complete with the state then hung up. He couldn’t take any more of that man’s taunting. Besides, there was no way they would ignore his call. If he didn’t see something announced in a few days he’d just go back and check on Will, plain and simple.

“Yeah, easy sleazy.” Jack mumbled as he exited the phone booth and started strolling aimlessly down the dark lonely street. There had to be a bar open somewhere.

Barbossa wrote down the address, a smug smile on his face. This was just too perfect. Now he was the only one that knew where William Swann was. Damage control had to be done and quickly. Without hesitation he picked up his cell phone and dialed Bosun’s number. When the burly man answered Barbossa could hardly keep his excitement controlled.

“We’ve found him! Finally we’re back on top of the game. Are you still in the area?” Bosun informed him that he was. “Good. I want you to go to the house the little brat is being held in and rough him up. I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that. After all, it was because of Will that you got shot. Nothing fatal, mind you. Just make sure his spirit is broken and he has some lovely bruises for the press. I want his kidnapper to look especially heinous.”

Bosun gave his promise, the glee in his voice rather apparent. Giving his hired goon a timeline, Barbossa hung up and leaned back in his leather chair. This was a beautiful day. Having Will’s bruised face plastered all over the news was bound to attract Elizabeth’s attention, and she would surely come running back to help her brother. Then he would have them both right where he wanted them. Finally, his plan could be carried out, and his future fortune secured.

“Minor setbacks are always to be expected when you’re trying to control the fates of so many.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tears fell from Will’s eyes but they meant nothing anymore. He was nothing. There was nothing left inside him. Will stared blankly down at the small moist spot on the wood in front of his knees. Had he really cried so much that he actually dampened the wood? What did it matter now anyway? No one could see him so he might as well get his grieving done now before the police came. Once he was back home there was no way his father would allow him to show any sort of emotion over another man that wasn’t a deceased relative.

Watching the tracks of his tears as they slowly spread through the heavy layer of dust atop the floor, dissolving some of the grime as they spread, he pondered what his future was going to be. Maybe Jack was lying about calling the police, or they wouldn’t be able to find him and he would just slowly waste away in this dank hole of death and dysfunction. It would be a fitting end for him. A horrible death that could symbolize the rot he already felt beginning inside.

Giving another weak tug at his handcuffs he sighed as they once again proved stronger than his motivation to fight them. Another sigh passed his lips, followed by a small mewl of discomfort as he awkwardly pulled his legs out from underneath him and pushed them up to his chest. He couldn’t sit on them anymore. A warm, sticky sensation on his wrists and palms told him that the cuffs had opened his scabs and he was bleeding again. Oddly enough it felt good. In fact, he actually found himself purposefully digging at the wounds to make them bleed more. At least this way he had something else to focus on—something tangible, unlike the distress in his heart.

He looked around the room once again and shivered at the thought of Jack and his sister being tortured in here to satisfy the sick whims of their deranged father. What must that be like? To be hurt by the person that’s supposed to love and protect you... Maybe he /could/ relate to that on some level. A small snort escaped his lips at the thought, followed by a tiny sob. Why did Jack say those things to him? His lover couldn’t really be that cruel, could he?

‘Well… he /did/ kidnap me… and he tried to force himself on me… and he steals A LOT.’ Will chewed on his bottom lip, not really wanting to believe his own thoughts. He couldn’t have made such a big mistake as to fall in love with someone that was that horrible, right?

“Even Hitler had a girlfriend,” he mumbled to the dankness of the room. For some reason the thought made him guffaw loudly. ‘At least I’m not /that/ bad. Jack’s definitely better than Hitler,’ he thought to himself. He paused for moment, chuckling slightly again. ‘Hell, even Avery was better than Hitler…’

“Why am I fucking talking about Hitler?!” Will suddenly shouted into the darkness of his solitude. He broke down again, rubbing his eyes against his knees and sniffling. “I’m fucking losing my mind.”

“Isn’t this a pitiful sight?” Bosun’s deep voice scoffed, delighting in seeing the petite youth jump at the sound of his voice. Will looked as if he ‘d seen a ghost, even blinking several times as if Bosun was an illusion brought on by his madness. “I’m real, but you’ll wish I wasn’t by the time I leave.” Will swallowed nervously, but forced back his fear, puffing up in defiance.

“Go ahead and kill me. I’ve got nothing to lose anymore. You can’t hurt me more than he already did… asshole!”

“Aren’t you cute? It’s almost a shame I have to beat the snot outta ya, kid. Then again… because of you I got shot… so I’ll get over it.” Bosun strode towards him in a menacing stride, making Will regret his suicidal taunt. He did want to die… but there were so very many painful ways that could be accomplished.

When Bosun reached for him he shrank back, whimpering slightly as the six-foot-something thug lifted him up by the collar of his shirt, forcing Will to stand. Bosun grinned at him maliciously, exposing exceptionally white teeth. The older man’s fist came down so quick that Will didn’t even have time to cry out in pain before he was back on the ground again. His jaw screamed out in pain and stars danced before his eyes, but Bosun gave him no mercy. He kicked Will right in his sensitive abdomen earning the abuser a shrill cry.

“Music to my ears, kid.” He kicked again, receiving a much less piercing cry as the poor teen was in too much pain to continue. Bosun grunted in disappointment, thinking that his victim was already passing out on him. Will tried to pull his legs up to protect his middle, but his attacker was not to be so easily foiled. Bosun stomped on Will’s knee making him wail in pain as the joint slipped out and then popped back in.

“Hurts doesn’t it?” Bosun hissed, thinking of his own knee injury. Feeling his anger for the teen rise, he once again pulled Will up, this time by his long locks and punched him once again. Will’s head bounced off the pole only to be met by the burly man’s fist once again. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth and swore one of his teeth had come loose.

He wasn’t sure how long Bosun pummeled him, but when he was finally allowed to sink back down to the floor he was extremely grateful, just wanting to curl up and die. Blood oozing from a gash somewhere on his forehead prevented him from seeing very well and he flinched in pain with every movement. He watched as Bosun checked his watch and cursed under his breath.

“Times up,” he said plainly, pulling back for one last punch. Will watched with fear as he saw the bloody fist coming at him once again. It all seemed to be going in slow-motion and then… black.

Bosun smirked as he watched Will’s body go completely limp. If the kid was conscious when the police came he would be able to tell them what had just happened. However with Will being unconscious everyone would assume it was Jack that had bludgeoned him so badly. His had to give Barbossa credit. He was a magnificent bastard. Without further thought to the broken figure before him, Bosun turned and left. Just as he turned off the street where the house was located, he heard the police sirens as they raced towards the dilapidated hobble.

“Like rats in a maze,” he chuckled to himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack grieved the only way he knew how, sitting in one of the most crowded bars on the strip, nursing his fifth rum and coke and smoking a cigarette as he watched the masses on the dance floor and the couples making out in the darkened booths. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, and he knew a man is never more alone than in a crowd of drunk, horny, uncaring strangers.

Half-lidded eyes watched bodies in motion through the puff of smoke that escaped his lips. Memories from Club Second Skin came rushing back to him and he shook his head to clear them. Obviously he wasn’t drunk enough if he was still thinking about something he couldn’t change. Raising his hand he signaled the waitress that he wanted another even though the one he had wasn’t even half gone.

“Are you sure you want another?” She asked out of general concern. Jack nodded, checking out her short skirt and tight shirt. “Put this on your tab as well, Mr. Brasco?” She asked, tucking a blue strand of hair behind her ear. Jack nodded, smiling in what he thought was a charming way in his intoxicated state.

“Call me Donnie.” He winked and she smiled to appease him, not finding the slovenly drunken behavior at all attractive. Didn’t matter though, she was only doing this until she got her tattooing license anyway. Jack watched her walk away, enjoying the view of her tight butt, before putting his head down to his drink lapping at it like a cat. When he didn’t get the desired amount of booze he gave up the animalistic drinking style in favor of knocking the entire glass back in two gulps.

“Heeeeeee! Still got it!” he slurred, slamming the glass back down on the table loudly. He looked around tiredly, searching for his next drink, when his eyes caught sight of a slim, brown-haired twink that was the perfect likeness to Will. Jack moaned in arousal wanting nothing more than to take the youth into the bathroom and pound into him against the stall. He could feel little Jackie waking up, standing at attention and giving Jack dirty ideas. Fortunately the biker was far too drunk.

“Awwwww, man…” Jack moaned. “I’m never gonna get laid again!” he sobbed, banging his forehead against the table. “I had a beautiful thing and I totally fucked it up! Oh gods, I miss you baby-especially that tight little ass of yours,” he sniveled, wiping sloppily at his nose and eyes, effectively smearing his makeup. When his waitress, Molly, came back she almost turned and walked away but it was too late—Jack had seen her.

“Oh, you brought me more rum… bless you sweet angel!” Jack sobbed, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. “Talk to me? Please? Just for a little, I won’t try to touch your goodies I promise. I’m a married man.” he lied, suddenly just desperate for human contact. He received a swift elbow to the nose.

“I’m not on the fucking menu, asshole!” Molly shouted angrily, slamming his drink down before she stormed off. Jack sniffled, rubbing his nose in a most adorable fashion. He took a sip of his rum. He rubbed his nose again and looked over to where the waitress had disappeared.

“Bitch…” he grunted, before licking up the spilt rum around his glass. “Never waste it!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will lay in a hospital bed, unconscious, stirring slightly from time to time as demons plagued his sleep. His hands twitched and he mumbled out incoherent words from time to time. The nurses had already fallen in love with him, thinking of him as one of their own children. All of them had been following the case on TV and to have such a celebrity in their very own hospital was rather exciting. As of yet Will hadn’t awoken, but he had only been there a few hours. Governor Swann was already flying out to them in his private jet.

The youth’s injuries were rather extensive. Several cracked ribs, multiple abrasions, a cracked fibular bone, a slight concussion, bruised windpipe, not to mention the extensive bruising all over his body. They had cleaned up the cuts on his face, but the kid still had two big shiners to boast, along with cracked lips and a bruised cheek. How could someone do that to such a sweet young man? It was such a tragedy.

Will stirred, his eyelids slowly fluttering open. A blinding white light met his vision, causing him to flinch and snap his eyes shut once again. He moaned in annoyance and raised a hand up to his eyes, opening them again. He looked around suspiciously at the sterile surroundings. He was in a hospital…

“How did I get here?” he rasped, his voice dry and cracked. Looking up at his wrist he realized they had been bandaged, the cuffs must have been cut off. Why wasn’t he dead? Shouldn’t that last beating have killed him? He was attempting to get up when someone burst into the room, dressed in a brown trench coat and armed with a camera. They immediately started flashing pictures, making Will flinch and cover his face.

“Stop it!” he screamed, trying to hide his face from the invasion, but the man was persistent.

“Hey! I thought I threw your ass out!” an angry female voice snarled.

“Freedom of the press! The people have a right to know how he’s recovering!” The man protested as the pint-sized nurse jumped him and snatched away the camera. “Hey!”

“Not on my watch ya bloody bastard!” she shouted, her Scottish accent coming out. “Now get yer ugly face out of my sight before I shove this camera up your arse!” She seethed, her green eyes shooting flames. The reporter begrudgingly left, snatching his camera from her before she could react. She sighed in frustration and turned to Will. He was almost in tears.

“He’s got pictures of me… looking like this?” he asked, fear and violation in his voice. A smirk crept over the tiny nurse’s face.

“No. He thinks he does though,” she snickered, throwing Will a small black object. He looked at it and realized it was a film canister. “I took it while the bastard was recovering from my body slam. I might look wee, but I can pack a nasty punch. The prat," she said angrily. She put a hand to her mouth. “Pardon my language, lad. I’m just so hot tempered when it comes to these sneaky buggers. This kind of crap doesn’t happen back where I come from… or if it does no one sues you for punching him as they rightly deserve!” She ran her hands through her waves of orange hair, sighing at the thought of her homeland. “I miss it. You people wouldn’t know a good ale if it flew out of your arse.”

Will looked at her in utter shock and confusion before sputtering, “Who are you?!” His head was pounding and there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt, plus he had just been attacked by the paparazzi apparently. His nurse put her hands up in a disarming fashion.

“Where are my manners? I’m nurse Pattie and I’ll be taking care of you until the night shift comes in.” She looked at the young brokenhearted youth and smiled sadly. “Oh, bonny, it’ll be ok. You’re safe from that monster now.” She moved up and took Will’s shaking hands in her own. “They’ll catch that devil of a man who kidnapped you, I’m sure.” Her words caused Will to break and he wrapped his arms around her, sobbing in her shoulder. He wanted a mother right now more than anything, and nurse Pattie would do.

“It’s all right, poppet. Your father’ll be here soon and then you can go home.” She cooed, rubbing his back soothingly. At the mention of his adopted father Will just cried harder, confusing the poor woman, but she paid it no mind. After all, the poor dear had just been through a great ordeal and his emotions must be all over the map.

“W-When should he be here?” Will asked softly when his tears subsided. He wanted to be prepared for the brunt of the assault as it were.

“Right now.” His father’s voice hit his ears like nails on a chalkboard. Will jumped back from the nurse and wiped his tears immediately. He wouldn’t give Swann the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Swann came in the room, arms outstretched, and pulled Will into a hug, making the teen most uncomfortable. Will considered going along with the show - just for a moment - he really wanted the comfort of a parent right now.

“Ow!” Will faked pain to get out of the pathetic display. There was no point in pretending. Swann released him and sat on the bed. Will stared down at the blanket, not even wanting to look at the man that forsook him.

“Could you give us a moment?” Swann asked the nurse.

“Why of course, dears! You must have so much to catch up on,” she said cheerily, thinking this was a happy family reunion. Will watched her leave with ambivalence, knowing as soon as she was gone the claws would come out. He was right.

“Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t forgotten your perversion—I’m sickened by you, but now the press knows about you and I can’t have them know your disgrace.” Will jerked slightly at the harsh words, but he was ready for them. He simply kept his head down and fisted the sheets in his hands. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Swann snapped. Slowly raising his head, Will looked at his adoptive father with cold apathy. A sudden burning rage swelled within the teen and he couldn’t help his next words.

“Why? Do you enjoy seeing the hurt on my perverted face when you sit there and judge me like the fucking hypocrite you are?” His words were calm, yet filled with anger, and he relished the look of utter shock that crossed his father’s face. Will scoffed, “What’s the matter? You can dish it out but you can’t take it? How did you survive high school?” He was so furious with his father he hardly felt the hard slap he received in punishment for his insolence.

“You will /not/ speak to me like that.” Swann snapped. “I am your elder and it’s because of me alone that you’re not some street whore selling yourself!” Will calmly rubbed the sore spot on his cheek from where his was struck before looking back up.

“It was also you that left me to die. You never wanted to pay my ransom did you? You were happy that I was kidnapped weren’t you? Did you jerk off at the thought of me getting murdered?!” Swann slapped him yet again, this time drawing a small bit of blood from one of his recently closed cuts. Something inside William Turner snapped then. He flew at Swann, punching and slapping at him blindly.

“I fucking hate you! Do you hear me?! I fucking hate you!” Will screeched, punching the governor straight in the nose. Hearing the commotion from the hall, several nurses came rushing in.

“He’s gone mad!” Swann shouted, “He’s talking crazy!” Will fought the men as they tried to restrain him.

“NO! Fuck off! I’m not crazy! He left me for dead! FOR DEAD!!” His struggles caused his IV to come undone and some of his bandages were ripping.

“He’s hurting himself, get a sedative.” One of the nurses ordered. Will heard him and fought harder.

“No! Let go of me, fuckers! He’s the one that needs a sedative not me!” He whimpered in pain as they forced him down and stuck the needle in. “No…” he mewled as he felt the fast-acting drug spread through his system, leaving a sense of exhaustion in its path. “He left me… he left me…” Will whispered before he drifted into the realm of the unconscious.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve been worried sick for the past five months and he says that I left him for dead? I swear… I never got a ransom demand. I swear!” Swann moaned, pretending to be overcome with grief. “Why is my boy saying these things to me?” One of the nurses came over to comfort him, thinking the man truly devastated.

“It’s common for victims to place blame elsewhere. He’s been held captive for a long time. He’s probably bonded with his kidnapper. It’s called Stockholm Syndrome. Also I’m sure he feels that he should have been able to protect himself so he’s trying to get you to hate him, that way he’s controlling the rejection. It’s all very common.” The nurse reassured him. Swann nodded in thanks.

“I should get something for that,” the nurse offered, getting up. Swann raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“For what?” He touched his face only to feel blood. “What?!” The nurse came back with some iodine and a bandage.

“Your son really scratched you.”

Swann laughed, but was secretly seething with rage. Will was going to pay for his insolence. How dare the little faggot make such a display and to actually draw blood! Unthinkable!

He kindly thanked the nurse and then dismissed him. Staring at Will with disgust and loathing in his eyes he made a promise to make sure his ‘son’ would /not/ enjoy his homecoming. That was for damned sure.

“Ungrateful faggot.”


Tbc…

Instead of doing the numbers thingies, I’ll just do this. There are a few hidden jokes in this chapter. Anyone that can pick them out gets to ask a question about what’s gonna happen in the story and I’ll answer it. A question for each joke ye find.

Please send all answers to: nightshade10312001@yahoo.com with the subject line LMLH Answers or something along those lines. Just as long as it’s not “hi” or something like that because I’ll probably miss it and delete it thinking it’s a virus.

Thanks to all that continue to support this story. Y’all rock! I’ve got some fun shit coming up in school so I made use of my spring break. When the next one’s gonna be out is beyond me. I’ve already started it though! I’m just babbling now. Thanks again!

Reviews do count. They’re a way of kicking my ass into gettin-a-goin on a story. Like tiny guilt trips. ^_^

Whoa... two chapters in the same month! Where's the apocalypse?