Jack Sparrow Senior gave a steely grin before catching Anamaria by the throat so quickly
that she didn't have time to even think about what was happening. His hand merely shot out
as a blur and there he stood, grasping the lady pirate as she clutched at his fingers and gasped
for air.

"Don't!" Jack cried, still frozen to the bed, watching in horror. "It's me you want! Let her
go and kill me! Kill me, damn you to bloody hell, I don't care anymore!"

"Silence, you fool," the old man whispered, not loosening his grasp. "You should have figured
long ago that it is not killing you that I enjoy most, but it is watching you suffer."

"You've been playing with me, this whole time," Jack realized in shock. "You sick bastard,

"You killed me," he replied, grinning even wider. "Now you must pay."

"What makes you think I care at all for her?" Jack asked, fingers stiff and clutching the cot on
either side of him, trying to keep his voice steady. "She is but a Tortuga wench, and is of no
value to me."

"Then I could gut her open, for all you care," said the father, swinging out his sword and
holding it up to Anamaria's chest. Her eyes widened as she gave a rasping scream,
struggling madly in the old man's stone grip.

Jack did not reply.

In a moment of what seemed like rage, Jack Senior took a sharp intake of breath, bared his
teeth, and shoved his sword into the pit of Anamaria's stomach.

"No!" Jack shrieked, leaping off the bed as she gave a sharp cry, blooding flooding over her
garments and pooling on the ground in currents. He ran to her, and her eyes! Her eyes were
open and gave away such fear, and loathing! And it was not for the old man alone, Jack
knew it as he stared into her clearly readable orbs. He had not been brave enough to help
her earlier and now she had to die. She was accusing him of cowardice and her own death,
and that stopped Jack in his tracks.

Jack's father withdrew his sword and plunged it swiftly into Anamaria's neck and down her
throat, shattering every bone from there to her lungs. She was dead an instant later; her body
slumped to the ground, surrounded by her gore. Her eyes forever continued their last gaze,
glassy and unseeing.

Jack found it hard to breathe, mouth agape and body unmoving. "No, no, Anamaria…" he
started, unable to turn away from her. His thoughts were brutally interrupted by a chilling
laugh that shattered his composure almost completely as his guard was already down. He
could do nothing but numbly fall back to the cot for support.

"You lied to me, boy," his father said icily, smiling wickedly, mockingly petting Anamaria's
blood-matted hair. "I believe you fancied her."

"I believe," Jack whispered, swallowing, "I did."

"Ah, Jack, you are not giving up on me so easily," the old man said in good humor. "You
pathetic little failure. You now give in to me once your heart is broken, without a fight?"

"There's no fight left in me," he muttered in reply. "I cannot stop you from anything! Not
from destroying Port Royal, not from killing Will and Elizabeth, not from murdering Anamaria
right in front of me, and I-…" He trailed off. "I realize now, that you always had the upper
hand. What are you to be able to do this? You kill everyone knowing that you cannot be

"Looks like I hit my mark, eh?" Jack Senior retorted with a shout of laughter. "It took me a
while to figure out what would trigger you to become as you are now, but I never thought it
would be so easy!" He nearly skipped with delight to where Jack sat, grabbing him by the
head and forcing him to stare into the old man's cold eyes. With his peripheral sight, Jack
noticed in the corner of his eye, the Kismet, which glowed with a dark aura about it. The
father didn't seem to notice, but the occurrence was nothing more than an interference that
Jack could try to focus on instead of his father's eyes. Anything but his eyes. Or

"You bore me," Jack's father said, with a frown. "You suffer greatly, but it gets old so
quickly. You no longer threaten me with your idle rambling. You wish to die." He pulled
out his blood-stained sword and raised it skillfully over his head, ready to thrust it deeply
into his son's torso, to stab with it over and over again and watch him finally die, mutilating
him, along with everyone else. "No more lingering, my boy. I'll see you in hell."

Jack Senior struck, but in an instant so quick that not even he could at first register, his sword
was interfered with a clang of metal, by another blade.

"Not today," Jack growled, sword poised and eyes aglow with an immediately fresh fire that
the old man knew not from where it had come. The elder instantly regained his poise and
snarled, pulling back for another try at killing his son, but was met with his sword, yet again.
"You're going to have to try harder than that," Jack growled, leaping from the cot and
standing correctly, fearlessly.

"I'm only just beginning," Jack Senior said, smirking. He lunged toward the younger, and
each time he went in for the kill, Jack parried his blows. "Stop playing now, you're wasting
your time!" the old man said as he struck again and again. "You will tire and I will not."

They moved around the floor liquidly, both remarkably skilled and equally reflexive; an obvious
family trait. Jack suddenly hesitated in one thrust, letting his father's blade nearly slash him,
moving out of the way in the nick of time so that it barely grazed his shirt. The risk was a
good one taken, as he then had time to slide sideways while his father was extending the
sword and shove his own into the old man's side.

Without a second thought, Jack bent down and snatched up the Kismet, which he had
positioned right under his feet. The original jolt of electricity passed through his body as he
drew back, away from his father. The pulsing flame was harsh, but relieving all the same.
It was going to work.

"Damn," the old man whispered in rage, throwing Jack's sword to the ground with a
clatter. "You already know that if you hold it, I cannot do a thing, presently. But you
understand, if you go back, by Satan, I will hunt you out again. And I will end this then.
And you will all be dead!"

"This time, I won't screw up," Jack muttered fiercely, gritting his teeth in pain.

"You won't screw up; I will kill you before that happens!" his father cackled. "You
hear me! You'll be dead! I shall kill you! And kill you until you are nothing but a
soggy pile of blood and gore!"

But his threats were not heard as Jack felt the pulse growing quicker, his thoughts
pouring from his brain, and he could visualize every second of the moving scene around
him that showed a picture of the Black Pearl on a calm sea. Just like before, he could
not restrain a cry as the shocks whisked him away once more into the swirling reality of
his memories.

A/N: Again, thank you Abigail for inspiring me to write this chapter! There will be more.