Hell
Title: Hell
Author: nelliedances/Miss Ruby Tuesday
Rating: R for suggestions of violence, adult situations, and hurtful words.
Pairings: Jack/Elizabeth
Warnings: Post-AWE.
Disclaimer: Sure I own it; I also have a great bridge for sale in Brooklyn, if anyone’s interested.
Summary: Hell is living without you. Sometimes, though, it's living with you. Jack and Elizabeth fight.
Status: Complete
When they fight, Elizabeth wonders why she ever left Port Royal. Jack is petulant, moody, tempestuous, and, she thinks ironically, she is just as bad. She stalks out of his cabin and slams the door in his face. This argument might be her fault, but she's tired of apologizing. Most of the arguments come back to being her fault, as Jack has readily pointed out to her in the past.
She brushes past Gibbs, ignoring his greeting. She doesn't fail to notice, however, that the crew has begun to part for her when she's in a bad mood, much like they do for their captain. Peas in a pod, indeed. She continues briskly along the length of the ship until she reaches the main deck. It's as far away from Jack as she can conceivably get without climbing out on the bowsprit. Only then does she allow a few tears to leak from her stinging eyes. No one ever told her that love would hurt this much.
The spray from the bow cools her face and she fancies the Pearl herself is consoling her, like a sympathetic sister-in-law. She can almost hear the ship whispering that Jack will come to his senses and Elizabeth believes her. After all, the Pearl has known Jack longer than she. What she wonders, though, is will she come to hers?
A shadow falls over her as she's contemplating things. She should have known he'd seek her out. Jack is incapable of leaving well enough alone.
“What do you want?”
“I thought I'd make sure you hadn't thrown yourself off the bow in despair,” he says dryly. She makes a face at him.
“I wouldn't be bothered to do that over the likes of you. Maybe for someone like Will.” She winces at her words. That was unmitigatedly cruel.
“Oh, by all means then, go ahead, since you seem to have so heartlessly left Will for the likes of me.” His hand sweeps in front of her face, the bitterness rolling off his words as he offers her the bowsprit in a mock-gentlemanly gesture. She whirls around to face him.
“I don't love you,” she hisses, her heart breaking at the lie. She watches his face and waits for that one naked moment of true emotion. She gets it; her barb has hit home and wounded him.
“I don't love you either, Miss Swann. Did you ever consider I told you that just to get at what's between your creamy white thighs?” The words are also a lie, but it stings her too. She's gone to far and she knows it.
“Jack, I...” But he's already walking off. Pain seems to have quickened his step and he's out of reach, in all senses of the phrase. She's left to ponder her cruelty. Pirate, indeed. She always knew they'd hurt each other, but she never expected how much. It's so unlike being with Will. They'd never argued this way. He'd gotten angry once and a great while, he'd occasionally yelled, but he'd never been able to cut her to the quick like this. He'd always apologized, even if she was the one wrong. Jack gets inside her and under her skin. Will had never made her feel like her heart was breaking.
Enough of this. She gets up and makes her way back to his cabin. She tentatively opens the door. He's sitting in front of his maps, head bent, and a bottle of rhum gripped in his hand. She notes that he hasn't uncorked it.
“What do you want?” His voice is hard and hurting.
She opens her mouth, but no words come. Instead, she just shuts the door behind her. No need for the crew to hear anymore than they already have. She doesn't need another night of their accusing stares.
“Well? If you're going to stand there and gawk, get out. I don't want you here.” He uncorks the bottle and takes a long drink, as if to spite her.
“Jack...” Her voice is plaintive as she takes a step forward. “I came here to say I was sorry.”
“You're not, though!” He slams the bottle down. “You're a bloody pirate, you're never sorry, remember?”
He brings up the past, another way of hurting her. It's a low blow, but it's truthful. She's never apologized for it, much like she doesn't give quarter for anything else.
“I came to find you, didn't I? I went through hell and back. I gave up everything I had in Port Royal, I gave up my marriage, and I gave up Will for you. Would I have done that if I wasn't sorry?”
“Guilt, luv, does a lot of things to a body.”
“Hang guilt, Jack! I came because I needed you.”
“And there's the devil of it, Lizzie. You need me. You don't want me, you don't love me, you need me for your blasted freedom. I'm a means to and end.” The bottle is brought to his lips again. “Well, you may want me, too, but that in the same vein as why you need me.”
Her mouth drops open. She's never considered it this way. Her breath catches at the very real pain in her chest. The memory of how, as a child, she'd pulled the wings off a butterfly floats into her mind. She hadn't realized what she'd done and how much it had hurt until it was too late. She felt the same way now, watching Jack. He looked up at her aghast face, and his eyes were clouded with pain.
“Truth hurts, don't it? Why haven't you left yet?”
She walks towards him, deliberately and pushes her way in front of him so he can't avoid her. She'd tie herself to the table if that's what it would take, but she needs him to listen to her. She reaches for him and he recoils like her touch will burn him.
“Don't...” he mutters hoarsely, heat thawing his cold voice. All that remains in the pain, a pain she remembers well from Will's voice when she told him she couldn't marry him. It horrifies her that this is the third man she's done such a thing to. Norrington had called her a succubus once, before his departure from the Pearl and she nows sees the truth in his words.
“...I love you...”
“Do you have to lie to me too, Elizabeth? I'd get over this hurt sooner if you didn't. I need you like I breathe, even if all I ever get for it is you dancing helter-skelter over my heart.” She cringes again. Has she lied about this so much that no one believes her anymore?
“I mean it. I'm sorry for what I said. I need you, it's true, but it's because I love you, not what you can offer me. Please Jack!”
His hand releases his grip from the bottle and transfers it to her waist. His grip is just as tight on her. Suddenly, he shoves the chair back and envelopes her completely. His hand wraps into her hair painfully as he presses his forehead to her chest.
“God help you, Elizabeth, you'd best be telling the truth to me or I'll cut your tongue out and leave you for the crows. I can't do without you, and I hate you for it, but I love you, God help me. I'm a fool and you'll be the death of me.” His arms tighten more and for a moment, she can't breathe. It doesn't matter, because a second later, his mouth is on hers and he'd forcing her down on top of his maps, rocking against her, making her burn in hell for her words and actions. His hands shake as he touches her and he's murmuring threats and curses against her neck. His hand snakes down into her breeches, making her cry and suffer.
He drags her down with him, ruining her, making her cry out, alternatively begging and demanding she say his name and declare her love for him. She does so willingly, his name a prayer on her lips, and her love a mantra. He leaves physical marks on her for every stinging word she's said. His nails rip open her back like a cat o' nine and she welcomes her punishment.
If this is hell, she hopes she'll never be saved. They will be each other's damnation, a succubus and incubus wallowing in their sins.
He finishes hard and she feels her own nails driving into his skin. His anger is gone and he presses a soft kiss to her lips. She remembers, now, that this, this all consuming passion, is the reason she chose Jack and not a stable life with Will. As much as they tear each other to shreds, they make each other whole again. She cannot imagine a life without it. Without him.
“I do love you too, Lizze,” His voice is quiet as they rest. “But if you don't move your arse you'll ruin my maps and my love for you does have bounds.”
She laughs softly as she moves from his desk. Things will be all right.
Author: nelliedances/Miss Ruby Tuesday
Rating: R for suggestions of violence, adult situations, and hurtful words.
Pairings: Jack/Elizabeth
Warnings: Post-AWE.
Disclaimer: Sure I own it; I also have a great bridge for sale in Brooklyn, if anyone’s interested.
Summary: Hell is living without you. Sometimes, though, it's living with you. Jack and Elizabeth fight.
Status: Complete
When they fight, Elizabeth wonders why she ever left Port Royal. Jack is petulant, moody, tempestuous, and, she thinks ironically, she is just as bad. She stalks out of his cabin and slams the door in his face. This argument might be her fault, but she's tired of apologizing. Most of the arguments come back to being her fault, as Jack has readily pointed out to her in the past.
She brushes past Gibbs, ignoring his greeting. She doesn't fail to notice, however, that the crew has begun to part for her when she's in a bad mood, much like they do for their captain. Peas in a pod, indeed. She continues briskly along the length of the ship until she reaches the main deck. It's as far away from Jack as she can conceivably get without climbing out on the bowsprit. Only then does she allow a few tears to leak from her stinging eyes. No one ever told her that love would hurt this much.
The spray from the bow cools her face and she fancies the Pearl herself is consoling her, like a sympathetic sister-in-law. She can almost hear the ship whispering that Jack will come to his senses and Elizabeth believes her. After all, the Pearl has known Jack longer than she. What she wonders, though, is will she come to hers?
A shadow falls over her as she's contemplating things. She should have known he'd seek her out. Jack is incapable of leaving well enough alone.
“What do you want?”
“I thought I'd make sure you hadn't thrown yourself off the bow in despair,” he says dryly. She makes a face at him.
“I wouldn't be bothered to do that over the likes of you. Maybe for someone like Will.” She winces at her words. That was unmitigatedly cruel.
“Oh, by all means then, go ahead, since you seem to have so heartlessly left Will for the likes of me.” His hand sweeps in front of her face, the bitterness rolling off his words as he offers her the bowsprit in a mock-gentlemanly gesture. She whirls around to face him.
“I don't love you,” she hisses, her heart breaking at the lie. She watches his face and waits for that one naked moment of true emotion. She gets it; her barb has hit home and wounded him.
“I don't love you either, Miss Swann. Did you ever consider I told you that just to get at what's between your creamy white thighs?” The words are also a lie, but it stings her too. She's gone to far and she knows it.
“Jack, I...” But he's already walking off. Pain seems to have quickened his step and he's out of reach, in all senses of the phrase. She's left to ponder her cruelty. Pirate, indeed. She always knew they'd hurt each other, but she never expected how much. It's so unlike being with Will. They'd never argued this way. He'd gotten angry once and a great while, he'd occasionally yelled, but he'd never been able to cut her to the quick like this. He'd always apologized, even if she was the one wrong. Jack gets inside her and under her skin. Will had never made her feel like her heart was breaking.
Enough of this. She gets up and makes her way back to his cabin. She tentatively opens the door. He's sitting in front of his maps, head bent, and a bottle of rhum gripped in his hand. She notes that he hasn't uncorked it.
“What do you want?” His voice is hard and hurting.
She opens her mouth, but no words come. Instead, she just shuts the door behind her. No need for the crew to hear anymore than they already have. She doesn't need another night of their accusing stares.
“Well? If you're going to stand there and gawk, get out. I don't want you here.” He uncorks the bottle and takes a long drink, as if to spite her.
“Jack...” Her voice is plaintive as she takes a step forward. “I came here to say I was sorry.”
“You're not, though!” He slams the bottle down. “You're a bloody pirate, you're never sorry, remember?”
He brings up the past, another way of hurting her. It's a low blow, but it's truthful. She's never apologized for it, much like she doesn't give quarter for anything else.
“I came to find you, didn't I? I went through hell and back. I gave up everything I had in Port Royal, I gave up my marriage, and I gave up Will for you. Would I have done that if I wasn't sorry?”
“Guilt, luv, does a lot of things to a body.”
“Hang guilt, Jack! I came because I needed you.”
“And there's the devil of it, Lizzie. You need me. You don't want me, you don't love me, you need me for your blasted freedom. I'm a means to and end.” The bottle is brought to his lips again. “Well, you may want me, too, but that in the same vein as why you need me.”
Her mouth drops open. She's never considered it this way. Her breath catches at the very real pain in her chest. The memory of how, as a child, she'd pulled the wings off a butterfly floats into her mind. She hadn't realized what she'd done and how much it had hurt until it was too late. She felt the same way now, watching Jack. He looked up at her aghast face, and his eyes were clouded with pain.
“Truth hurts, don't it? Why haven't you left yet?”
She walks towards him, deliberately and pushes her way in front of him so he can't avoid her. She'd tie herself to the table if that's what it would take, but she needs him to listen to her. She reaches for him and he recoils like her touch will burn him.
“Don't...” he mutters hoarsely, heat thawing his cold voice. All that remains in the pain, a pain she remembers well from Will's voice when she told him she couldn't marry him. It horrifies her that this is the third man she's done such a thing to. Norrington had called her a succubus once, before his departure from the Pearl and she nows sees the truth in his words.
“...I love you...”
“Do you have to lie to me too, Elizabeth? I'd get over this hurt sooner if you didn't. I need you like I breathe, even if all I ever get for it is you dancing helter-skelter over my heart.” She cringes again. Has she lied about this so much that no one believes her anymore?
“I mean it. I'm sorry for what I said. I need you, it's true, but it's because I love you, not what you can offer me. Please Jack!”
His hand releases his grip from the bottle and transfers it to her waist. His grip is just as tight on her. Suddenly, he shoves the chair back and envelopes her completely. His hand wraps into her hair painfully as he presses his forehead to her chest.
“God help you, Elizabeth, you'd best be telling the truth to me or I'll cut your tongue out and leave you for the crows. I can't do without you, and I hate you for it, but I love you, God help me. I'm a fool and you'll be the death of me.” His arms tighten more and for a moment, she can't breathe. It doesn't matter, because a second later, his mouth is on hers and he'd forcing her down on top of his maps, rocking against her, making her burn in hell for her words and actions. His hands shake as he touches her and he's murmuring threats and curses against her neck. His hand snakes down into her breeches, making her cry and suffer.
He drags her down with him, ruining her, making her cry out, alternatively begging and demanding she say his name and declare her love for him. She does so willingly, his name a prayer on her lips, and her love a mantra. He leaves physical marks on her for every stinging word she's said. His nails rip open her back like a cat o' nine and she welcomes her punishment.
If this is hell, she hopes she'll never be saved. They will be each other's damnation, a succubus and incubus wallowing in their sins.
He finishes hard and she feels her own nails driving into his skin. His anger is gone and he presses a soft kiss to her lips. She remembers, now, that this, this all consuming passion, is the reason she chose Jack and not a stable life with Will. As much as they tear each other to shreds, they make each other whole again. She cannot imagine a life without it. Without him.
“I do love you too, Lizze,” His voice is quiet as they rest. “But if you don't move your arse you'll ruin my maps and my love for you does have bounds.”
She laughs softly as she moves from his desk. Things will be all right.