Repression, Obsession & Past Life Regression

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Taxes Part 3 - Repression, Obsession, and Past Life Regression
Part 4 of 8: Treasure
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When they got there, Jack sighed as he slid off the bicycle, and stretched in the noonday sun, watching Will do the same. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Just th' sun on your face..."

This earned him a sharp look from Will. "What?" he said.

"...it's nothing." Will gave him a soft smile. "Let's go."

The two wandered into a Red Robin, "No Sparrow, but close enough," and Jack sampled two or three of the very interesting things they did with rum in that establishment. The daiquiris, especially, intrigued him, and he decided that while he'd had doubts, the modern practice of adding so many things to your rum wasn't half bad at all. After all, it made it last longer, lingering on the lips...and speaking of such...Hanedaned over and kissed Will soundly, watched the man's eyes flutter closed. The bartender hooted and one of the barmaids clapped. On the other hand, a small group of patrons in the corner leveled hateful glares, and one of them even snarled.

Will's gaze to Jack was the same silent communication they'd always had, for now calm, inquiring. Trouble? Jack just raised his eyebrows. Not hardly.

Then he met the eyes of everyone at that corner table, and held their gazes all at once. He let the modern veneer of civilization fall away completely, until all that was left was the pirate. Then he let all leave his pirate's eyes save the killer that truly did lurk within Jack Sparrow. No humor nor smile about him anywhere now, though madness there most definitely was. Above all, however, he was Death.

A fork dropped, and at that metal sound, the corner booth emptied very quickly.

"Well, how 'bout that," Jack slurred. "It worked." He turned back to the bar, where the bartender regarded him with something like awe. "Now, can I try...let's see...a Nuclear Iced Tea? Provided, of course, that there's rum in it."

"Oh yeah, there's rum," the bartender replied. "And since that was the most fun I've had all week, it's on the house."

* * *

With Jack well lubricated and the world beginning to move properly and pleasantly again, they meandered toward a jewelry store. Will, however, found a delay outside a shop whose window advertised the best in ancient arms. Jack followed as the lad stopped to watch and listen.

A sman man held a blade aloft before a patron, a tall woman with short black hair. Jack caught snatches of conversation..."the finest Toledo steel...folded sixtyes bes by the finest craftsmen...can't let it go for less than..."

Will's hands were twitching, and he was biting his lip. Jack slid an arm about his shoulder and murmured in his ear, "Oh, me lad, I can see it's killin' ye. What're you waiting for?"

And that was all Will needed. He ambled into the store, Jack following behind. Will leaned against the counter, next to the salesman. "Pardon me."

"If you wouldn't mind waiting, I'm afraid we're in the middle of a sale."

"What you're in the middle of, *I'm* afraid, is robbery, something with which I assure you I have more than a passing familiarity. Milady, I know swords, and I need only look at this one to tell you that s nos not worth a tenth of what this man is charging."

"Really?." ."

"Now, look, I'm just..."

It really was a joy to watch Will work, Jack decided, as the younger man verbally dissected the weapon with all his considerable expertise.

"...so, you see, if this blade was folded more times than your average paper airplane, I would be exceedingly shocked."

"...If a comparably-priced sword *looked* at this one in a threatening manner, I am fairly certain that it would shatter. You can plainly tell that..."

"...and if you can verify to me that this sword has been any nearer Toledo, Spain than Toledo, Ohio, I will eat it!"

The woman was giggling openly by now, and the salesman was an interesting shade of shell pink. "Look, okay, you made your point," he growled. He withdrew something thin, pointed, and very shiny from a canister on his desk. "Now, this is a letter opener. It's not the finest anything, but it's pretty, gold with a pearl handle, and it's all yours if you promise to leave my store and Never. Come. Back."

"Gold, you say?" Jack put in. "Can I have one?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He pulled out another and it vanished. He blinked. Jack flipped it across his fingers and it vanished again. The salesman blinked again and turned back to Will.

"Now. Leave? Never come back?"

Will smiled pleasantly. "We have an accord." He turned and followed Jack to the exit.

"Hey, can I have one too?" the woman asked.

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

"Couldn't have done better meself," Jack murmured as they stepped through the door.

"Thanks, I think."

* * *

On their way out, they paused at a mall directory to find that Jack's preferred destination was directly above them. "It's just up the excavator. Enervatorcinecinerator? Calculat...no, that's not it...ah hell. Thing that goes up." He shot Will a look. "Y'weren't much help, there."

"I can never tell when you're just doing it for effect." Will paused. "And, escalator."

"Now he tells me."

Utilizing said conveyance, they were there in short order. The jewelry store was roomy, with many glass cases and two piercing booths. It was toward one of the latter that Jack sashayed. The booth he chose was oper by by a svelte girl with cropped red hair and piercings lining the entire edge of one ear, as well as adorning her nose and eyebrow.

"Jack," Will murmured, "are you *sure?*"

"Well, they do say never go to a bald barber, and I'm fairly certain the same principle applies."

"Not what I meant." Will looked at him seriously. "You aren't the only one that's going to be living with this."

"I told ye, Will. He's been meaning to get around to this for ages. He kneat wat was missing from his person, even if he didn't know the details. I'm sparing him discomfort, especially since I've got a decent start on the day's drinking, finally."

"...all right."

"So glad ye approve."

Jack grabbed the metal armrest on the far side of the chair, swinging himself up and over the near to land squarely in the seat. The redhead eyed him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Both ears, love. At least, for starters." He winked.

"You got it, handsome." Hoiceoice was a pleasant alto. "Stud?"

"Well I don't like to flatter meself, but...ah." He ran a hand over the selection of metal beads on black velvet, choosing one. Gold, naturally.

"Excellent. Let's get busy." She took his chin in one hand and marked a spot on his earlobe. Then she swabbed it with something cold and sprayed on something that made it even colder, practically numb. When she applied the gun to his ear, he felt barely a pinch.

"That's *it?*"

"And you men are usually such babies."

"Oh," he purred, "I'm no babe, lass."

"Beg to differ on the babe factor," she replied, showing just a bit of pierced tongue in her smile. Swab, spray, pinch...done. "Now, treat it with alc twi twice a day to prevent..."

The piercing gun dropped from her hands.

"Ah...prevent what, exactly?"

"Oh my god...robbery..."

"Well, I fail to see how that'll help, but...oh. Right."

As a matter of fact, a masked mas hos holding a gun on a cashier while another was taking a saleswoman around to the bigger cases, weapon held at her neck. A third trained his weapon on a group of customers. Will was not included, which meant only one thing. The lad was obviously preparing to do something incredibly stupid. Again.

A slow grin spread across his face and his eyes gleamed. It felt like Christmas come early.

* * *

He should have *known,* dammit.

When the drunk-ass queer...no, that wasn't fair. Guy'd done right by him in the end. When the drunk-ass...gay guy...had sidled up to T.J. and put an arm around his shoulders, he should have known that things were going to go straight to hell.

"Y'know, you're going about this wronwrong."

"What? Didn't I accessorize properly?" He gestured with his gun. "And by the way, get over there with the other customers and shut up. I will shoot you."

"Now, I know ye don't want t' shoot anyone - y'obviously planned th' whole thing so's you'd be missed by mall security, and a gunshot...well, y'can't get much more obvious, can ye?"

"Right. On the other hand, this gun isn't just for decoration. Unless you're feeling stupid," and for some reason, this made the guy smile wider, which was when he *really* should have known, "get over there. Now!"

"But the thing is, you're holding the gun wrong. Nobody *really* holds a gun sideways outside the movies. It's just gonna jam, y'see, you reallght ght to hold it like ..."

And just like that, the man had T.J.'s gun and was pointing it at his head. "...this."

That was about when Rick decided to cut his losses. He began to edge to the door. Let Nico get into a John Woo standoff, gun trained on the weirdo in the Calvin Klein shirt, while said weirdo had his trained on T.J.. Hell with it. Rick had the loot and the boys could look him up in ten to fifteen.

"And what'd you get out of shootin' me at this point? Seein' as your friend there is making off with all your ill-gotten gains, murder without any gain attached would be *incredibly stupid.*"

So like a moron, Nico turned to look, and that was when what Rick assumed was a letter-opener embedded itself in his gun hand. Nico screamed and dropped his gun, folding over his hand like a punk-ass bitch, and Rick figured the best course of action would be to chuck his own gun into his bag and rur thr the car. If the car was still there.

Heading out into the mall proper, he heard footsteps behind him, wondering who'd be dumb enough to chase a man they knew was armed, and then deciding he was pretty sure he knew. Of course, like another moron, he couldn't help looking back as he ran down the escalator, only to find a kid in a grey shirt on his heels. This meant, naturally, that he wasn't looking where he was going.

So when Calvin Klein swung out on a steel construction cable, he caught Rick with two feet in his chest and landed with an elbow at his neck.

Rick could only beg, something he'd never been too proud to do. "C'mon, man. Lemme get out of here. It's my third strike! They're gonna throw away the key."

And he listened, thank God. "...All right, then. Y'were just keepin' to the code, after all. I can't stand to see a man spend the rest of his days in a cage. Look, grab a handful of your swag and get out of here. Give me a good shove, and I'll say y'overpowered me. Least I can do for one o' the brethren."

"Thanks, but you know, I'm really not that w-" Rick felt a lessening of the pressure at his neck. "Oh, the hell with it!" He gave Calvin a huge shove, grabbed a miscellaneous assortment of jewelry, and took off.

Later, at home watching the news, he spat out his beer when he read the caption beneath the man's picture.

"Holy...the I.R.S.!?" When his girlfriend came over and thumped him on the back, he sputtered a moment and then said, consideringly, "Well, momma always said they'd catch up to me someday."

* * *

"You let him get away," Will pointed out, matter-of-fact.

"Of course, love. Someone had to get away, and I liked him. Reminded me of me, a little. And anyway, Byrd asked I not gem arm arrested. Well, killed or fired really, but close enough. So there had to be someone to blame for *all* what went missin', savvy?" They meandered back upstairs to where mall security had finally arrived on the scene.

"Aye. Pretty much what I thought, at any rate."

"No lacking for wit, me Will. Nor aim."

"They're going to keep my letter-opener as evidence, though."

"Y'can have me own. I've already been well-compensated."

The two wandered back into the store, where security had a hold of the other two culprits, and had removed their weapons from the cashier and piercing specialist who'd taken them up and trained them on the crooks. The svelte redhead was grinning. "My hero," she said to Jack.

Still, she seemed a bit shocked when he pulled her into a deep, dipping kiss. Not so surprised that her eyes didn't roll back for a second there, he noticed with a satisfied smile into her mouth.

When they broke apart, she said "But, I thought you were..." Her hands swed oed on her wrist in fair imitation of his habitual gestures.

"What I am, love, is flexible. *Very* flexible, if ye take my meaning." Palming one of Byrd's business cards, he tucked it into her jeans pocket. "Call me."

"I might just," she replied. "Maybe you'll let me punch holes in some more interesting places."

"Ah, on second thought..."

* * *

"So, where to now?" Will chewed on a gigantic cinnamon roll.

"I think me ocean's waited long enough," Jack replied, teeth tearing at a pretzel. "Time for some piracy, and then debauchery, or vice versa the vices." He swallowed, then waited until Will took another bite. Grabbing the lad's head, he pulled him in for a long kiss, swiping the cinnamon roll for his own.

"Mmf-was eating!"

"Obviously. And in this case, I wanted to be eating what ye were eating, if that's what's eating you." He grinned. "Sweet. I liked that." Light caught in his dilated eyes as he watched his William. "Aren't they amazing? The tastesghtsghts, and sounds of this world, after sleeping so long? 'Tis a bit hard and flat, true, but ye can feel the land straining beneath her fine new clothes. And the sea..." Jack stared directly at the sun as it fell so gradually through the sky. "The sea is the same as ever."

Sometime during this soliquily, Will's eyes had taken on a haunted look. It'd do no good to call the lad on it again, Jack knew, as he'd just deny it. When the boy was ready, he'd talk. Jack had a vague memory that he'd once won him with uncommon patience, and he'd needed the same in his dealings with Will ever since.

Of course, when he pulled himself out of his own contemplations, the man had swiped his pretzel and finished it. Jack eyed his empty hand with eyes gone large and sad. Will shrugged and smiled, and inwardly Jack brightened to see his good humor return.

"What can I say but that you taught me well. Or ill, as the case may be."

"So for well or ill, or hopefully both, let's get going." Back on the bike with a hop, he gunned the motor 'till he felt arms tighten 'round his chest, the mere squeal of tires and a bit of rubber left in his wake.

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