Disclaimer: Don't own.

A pair of drabbles. How Jack got from his hand on a knife to his hand on Will's, and why.

Jack looked at the heart.

The knife. The heart. Jones. The knife. The heart. Jones. Bloody hell, did that tentacled piece of pestilent codfish have to confuse him right now?


Then the monster moved forward. Will gasped and Elizabeth cried out, and Jack's heart stuttered. Jones' blade stuck grotesquely out of the eunuch's chest. Jack's fists clenched.


Jones turned and screeched, and Jack spared a thought for the monster's total lack of consideration for other people's sensitive ears.

Mortal, immortal, moral.

Will was writhing. Elizabeth hung on to him. The blade shuddered with their every motion.

Moral, mortal.

He kind of liked the two of them.

Annoying, both of them had tried to kill him at some point, but all things considered, he would really prefer it if they both stayed within the realm of the living.

Will's colour didn't bode well for that.

Pierce the heart for eternity. Freedom, as he'd told Elizabeth, drunk and heady, on that beach long ago.

Well, screw eternity, and he was at Will's side. Immortality: you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.

Will's hand was cold. He looked at Jones, and plunged it down.