Title: Sharp
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth, Elizabeth/Jack
Rating: PG
Summary: 500 words. Will angsts. (Spoilers for DMC)

Disclaimer: I do not own. I would never have been so mean to the pretty.

Author's Notes: I loved the first movie, and I hated the second movie, and yet it's the second movie that inspires me to fanfiction. Go figure.

She had been waiting for him even in the rain, water pouring over her flowing hair and sodden gown. She had raced to see him, the love and worry so apparent in her eyes.

The small, deadly knife flicks a chip off the table

The idea that this tiny, insignificant bug of a man could hold their lives in his hands is insulting. It would be so easy to kill him – there were a thousand ways, a thousand weapons in this room. But that would not free her, and she was all that mattered. There was a choice to make, but it was no choice, not really. She was all that had ever mattered.

He feels the sharp, piercing push of steel against wood.

One last touch, last look, he committed it all to memory because who knew when he would see her again? But there was no thought of failure, for either of them. They were stronger than this. Their love, their friendship, their trust – these were all unshakable.

The blade goes deep, separating, ripping, tearing.

He was surprised how glad he was to see his friend again, bewildered at how he had missed him. Jack was still Jack, and nothing came free. But the pirate would keep his end of the bargain, of that he was sure. She would be saved.

The dents reveal hidden colors, layers never expected in the warped surface.

Jack Sparrow sent him to fulfill his debt.

The jarring clang when the dagger cannot penetrate the cast-iron nail.

Five lashes to his back. Each one dug further into his skin. Yet only one thought in his head: his father dealt the blows. Beloved father. Hated father. Dead father. Mourned father. Merciful father.

The rending of what was once sturdy and solid.

Interfering father, who sold his life to ransom his son's. Could he repay him this way? To abandon him to his fate? He could not have such a sin on his conscience. He would not. He vowed it.

His fist is unyielding as his father's weapon.

Returned to her, feeling her alive and safe and utterly his, he could be content. He would be content, once his duty was complete. He would save his father, and then there would be only him and her, for they both had promised.

A piece of wood hits his eye. He does not notice; he has always been blind.

There was much running and fighting and chasing, and once again, all had proved false. But she was by his side, and Jack had returned, and they would fight until the very end. They would survive, as they always had.

The biting sound of irony.

Betrayal was ever and always his lot in life. Why, then, had he never been able to see it coming? He climbed the ladder, and the fatal blow struck deep. Love, friend, trust – dead.

He wonders to see the knife lodged in the table when he can feel it buried in his heart.