Prison of the Mind

Flammam In Corde Viri

Five days.

Five bloody days in this wretched swamp, and no matter where he went, she seemed to flit around him like a blood-starved mosquito.

He was lying in his designated room, on the right side of the cabin. It held a dingy little bed, a table, and a lantern. Tia had possessed enough intelligence to separate the two of them.

It was currently nightfall.

The crew were still glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes as though he might spontaneously transform into a werewolf and rampage. Once in a while one of them tried to speak to him, but evidently the looks he was sending them were silencing them effectively enough.

He needed to leave, now. Perhaps he could grow wings and fly away if he willed it hard enough. Maybe Lucifer could appear next to him and just poof him to Tortuga, lecturing him all the while about how Elizabeth deserved to die or how he was born to balance evil.

Contrary to Lucifer's belief, his list of victims only contained people that had been unfortunate enough to get in his way. It was mere coincidence that most of the people he had killed had deserved it.

Of course, the next question Lucifer would ask would be why he went back to the ship. He was always countering his arguments like some demented chess opponent.

'Well, Lucifer, I went back to the ship because I hoped that my debt with Jones would be square if I died. It was certainly not a grand heroic gesture. Saving the rest of the crew was simply a welcome side effect.'

He snickered to himself. That infernal demon had actually suggested that he was confused and traumatized because of the lives he took. Well, that entire line of his thinking was wrong from the start. Sure, maybe he got a little colder every time he killed, but he was not some kind of unhinged madman.

The only thing that Lucifer got right was that he was in constant fear of finding the one person that he would not be able to...move on from. He had known for a long time that there would be a person out there that would be a permanent thorn in his side, a permanent shadow in his mind. They would possess the ability to unravel him, to embed themselves in his thoughts and actions. They would possess the ability to shatter him.

Now he feared that he had found that person. She was sitting in the room across from him, and somehow she had survived killing him for more than a week.

"I am guessing Elizabeth should be counting herself lucky right about now?"

His head whipped around to stare at the doorway, and then he rolled his eyes skyward.

"I am surprised that one of you are actually talking to me in a closed room, away from everyone else." He studied Will's reaction, trying to gauge where the blacksmith stood with him.

"You just came back from the dead, and you were betrayed by someone in close proximity to both you and them. I think they are a little justified in being wary of you."

Jack snorted. "They are a little more than wary. They won't speak to me for more than a few seconds at a time, and always with witnesses. Suppose I fashion myself some fangs just to rile them up a bit? And to answer your question, yes, I hope she does feel lucky that she is still among the living. Speaking of her, where exactly do you stand?"

Will stepped into the room fully, and swung the door closed, but didn't latch it. "She killed you. Maybe to save herself, maybe to save us, or maybe for some other selfish reason, I don't know. I do know that she robbed you of your freedom of choice, and I resent her for that."