More Than One Way To Live Forever -Chapter 18
Chapter 18: The Antics of Mortals
Don de Vargas watched gravely as what could be none other than the Flying Dutchman surfaced from the depths of the ocean, or perhaps a whole other world. He couldn’t be sure, this business of the ferryman was still foggy, at best. Things were taking an unexpected turn once again. As though it weren’t enough to lose the main sail to that bitch’s meddling, he did not expect to come face to face with her husband so soon.
His crew had started an assembly chain, scooping buckets of water from the sea to at least keep the fire from spreading to the rest of the ship. Lightning crackled, and he knew the deluge that would soon fall from the sky would help matters a bit.
With not even an order but a thought, his men moved down below to prime the cannons, should things not go the way he hoped.
A man who was no doubt the Captain of the Flying Dutchman, William Turner, strode to the side of his ship. “Francisco de Vargas!” he called angrily, hand upon the hilt of his sword.
De Vargas returned the hostile greeting, he himself striding to face Turner. “Captain William Turner, I presume.” Turning to his mate, he snarled quietly, “Fetch the bitch, bring her here.”
“I’ve been told you are in possession of someone very dear to me.” His scowl illuminated by firelight was particularly menacing.
Rodrigo returned from below, dragging a worse for wear Elizabeth by the arm. “Will!” she exclaimed with astonishment, amazed to see none other than the Dutchman itself alongside La Isabella.
“That I am,” confirmed Francisco smugly. “Perhaps you would care to come aboard and discuss the terms of her release?”
Will eyed the burning main mast with a critical eye. “Your vessel doesn’t quite seem seaworthy. Perhaps you would care to come to this side? And bring her with you.”
“I’m afraid I cannot,” answered Francisco. It was not a lie, for the vampire truly could not cross the water between the two ships under his own power.
“Very well then, we’ll discuss them here. Release my wife, and your ship will be spared. Otherwise, I’m afraid nothing will prevent me from finishing the job she no doubt has already begun,” he said, gesturing at the flaming mast.
Elizabeth studied her husband, a man she had not seen in five years. He carried himself like a sea-captain now, several years of strange waters under his sash. There was something new about him now, something distant and cold. Was it the Dutchman taking hold of him? Or was it simply being a man without a heart?
“I have a different proposition. You--”
Francisco was distracted, for all attention everywhere was focused behind him. He turned to see a ship black as pitch glide up to flank La Isabella’s other side. “Game’s up, fang boy,” called a familiar and oh so irritating voice to Francisco’s ears. “Hand her over nicely, and we won’t blow this ugly piece of floating flotsam to flinders. Ain’t that right, Will?”
Will was surprised, and yet somehow not surprised, to see Jack entering the fray. The man had an uncanny ability to show up at the most unexpected times and places. “Spot on,” agreed Will coolly.
Wrenching Elizabeth from Rodrigo’s grasp, Francisco held her like a shield before him, twisting one arm behind her, the other hand gone to holding her neck. He laughed maliciously, but it smacked of a dog growling trapped in a corner. “As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted, is that I have a different proposition for you,” he continued calmly, attempting to hide his discomfort in the unexpected situation. I understand you have the power to bring those lost at sea back to the shore, of the living. Return my wife to me, and I will return yours.”
A figure familiar to Elizabeth walked up to stand next to her husband. Gibbs. He must have been the one to alert Will to the goings on of mortals on the other side.
All went silent, all eyes turned to the Captain of the Dutchman. Jack found himself repeating a mantra of old to Will in his head. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything stupid.
Will’s brow furrowed. “I can’t.” he finally answered, voice bland as toast but cool as ice.
“Can’t, or won’t?” asked Francisco through grinding teeth. His voice had gone low, his fingers digging a bit deeper into Elizabeth’s flesh, either intentionally or out of fear. Things were not going as he‘d hoped they would. She squirmed against his grasp, to no avail.
Will shook his black bandanaed head. “It’s impossible.”
Francisco could taste the truth of Will’s words. The man did not lie. Then all this had been for nothing? All his hopes of reunion smashed on the rocks with just two words. It’s impossible. Sadness welled up inside him, but was quickly overshadowed by its uglier counterparts: hatred, and rage.
Any esteem Jack felt for the whelp quickly evaporated. Telling the vicious vampire honestly that he can’t have what he wants, while said vampire is holding the throat of the woman they wanted to save? Stupid, stupid Will.
A flash of lightning split the sky, and the rain finally began to fall. Will read the hatred written across the vampire’s face, and realized he may have done a foolish thing.
Before another word could be said, an earsplitting crack caused everyone to jump, and the main mast began to topple over. It fell with a thud, making a burned bridge between the Dutchman and La Isabella. The unexpected chaos jarred a gunman down below in the Isabella, and the crash of the mast was soon followed by the boom of a cannon. There had been no order given, but the violence soon escalated out of control.
The Dutchman returned fire. Not to be left out of the fray, the Pearl fired from the other side. The rain poured from the sky, a near drowning deluge that extinguished what was left of the flames on the main mast.
Provided with a convenient bridge, the crew of the Dutchman boarded the Isabella. Francisco shoved Elizabeth to Rodrigo again, snarling an order to stow her away below, before he himself entered the fray.
Elizabeth felt weak, and yet the will to survive took hold. Rodrigo underestimated her, and she managed to wrench free and disappear into the chaos of the battle. Fearing Francisco’s wrath, Rodrigo would have pursued the troublesome woman, had he himself not been distracted by a pirate engaging his full attention.
Don de Vargas soon found himself crossing blades with the irate husband and lover both. In spite of Francisco’s superhuman speed, Will was an avid swordsman, and Jack was craftier than the devil himself; a combination of the two kept him well on his toes. “I remember your wife,” said Will, slashing for the vampire’s eyes, and only just barely missing. “Isabella de Vargas.”
“Why can’t you bring her back?” Francisco snarled, deflecting a slash from Jack and stab from Will both. “Why is she impossible, but others are?”
“She died a long time ago. I’ve already taken her across. She’s returned to the Great Ether. The nothing. The everything. Ready to start anew. I’m sorry, but you’ll never see her again.”
Jack listened quietly to Will’s explanation, and felt a certain vindication of suspicions he’d always held about true death. There was a cycle of death and rebirth, constant change and renewal. This was true in all things, the smallest most mundane systems to the largest chains of cycle. Humans were just too stupid, too blind, too absorbed in their own drama to recognize it.
“I don’t believe you!”
“She wouldn’t have wanted to come back anyway,” Will jabbed, both physically and verbally. “She already escaped you once.”
Francisco paused with surprise, and was nearly stabbed by Jack. He parried wildly, hissing, “What are you about?”
“I remember her, you cretin, she had the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. She committed suicide to escape you. Jumped ship in a storm.”
Rage boiled in the pit of Francisco‘s stomach. “Liar! Her ship sank on the crossing!”
“True, and I met them too. But Isabella most certainly died first, I’m afraid.”
“It’s all for naught, mate. Hand over the girl, and we’ll call this whole business off. What say you?” asked Jack, not really expecting it to be so easy.
A cold numb settled over Francisco. He’d been filled with such vigor, such hope that he would see his Isabella again, be with her, smell her hair and kiss those sweet lips...and in a few moments all that was taken away. He felt utterly empty inside, cold and cruelly alone. At that moment he decided that if he would never hold his Isabella again, Turner and Sparrow would most certainly lose their Elizabeth.
“But which do I hand her over to?” snarled the vampire, struggling to hold off his attackers. “Her husband, or her lover?”
Will froze at hearing the insinuation, startled into looking over at Jack. “What?”
Jack too blanched, fearing he would soon be on the pointy end of a blade expertly wielded by a very irate husband.
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Somehow avoiding the vampires, Elizabeth managed to slip back down into the hold again. The ship was listing to port, the cannon fire crippling La Infanta perhaps beyond repair. She worried for those she cared about up above, but other lives also held her attention, down below. The slaves who sailed the ship by day, held in reserve in their large holding pen by night. She thought of Jack and the mutiny he’d committed to free the slaves aboard the EITC ship, years ago. She knew he would understand her detour.
The slaves watched her fearfully, and some cried out as she raised the primed pistol she’d filched from a fallen comrade top deck. But the chief understood, and motioned for his people to move away from the lock. Keys were never convenient, but the pistol was a tried and true tool. All the captives were soon fleeing the cell, and only the chief stopped to thank her, briefly, before also running up. Water had begun to fill the hold, and came up to Elizabeth’s ankles. She decided to speed up the process a bit, and rolled a barrel of powder over to the wall. She readied a long fuse, and lit it with a lantern on the wall.
Satisfied with her goal of destruction, she made to beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. However, halfway to the companionway she stopped dead in her tracks. “And just where do you think you are going?” asked Francisco, blocking the way.
“Oh...nowhere,” she grumbled, heart dropping down to her stomach with disappointment and fear.
Francisco took a step down, limping, and gazed unhappily at the water up to his ankles. “It seems we are going somewhere, though down is not a desired direction at sea.”
He took another step forward, and she retreated farther into the hold. “So I hear your Isabella didn’t love you so very much after all. She felt like a collectable on a shelf too, I imagine.”
Francisco frowned. “I shall never be able to ask her, it seems. It is devastating to believe someone loves you, only to find they feel something entirely different.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the stab, still backing up as Francisco advanced. “True, and yet can she be blamed, if her husband is not giving her what she needs?”
“That is the excuse you women always use. I gave her everything she could have possibly wanted.”
“Except for her husband at home. Did you enjoy spilling my secret?” She was certain he had not missed the opportunity to create a rift, now that all was lost.
Elizabeth backed into a pillar, and the vampire pressed into her. “Oh yes, that was quite fun. By the look on William’s face, I would say he will never forgive you. That is, if I thought he would ever see you again. He and Jack are fighting out their differences as we speak.”
A sort of panic did a somersault in her stomach, mixed with her fear. But what was done was done. He turned up her chin, exposing a line of long neck that her maiden name described so perfectly. “You think to kill me?” Elizabeth felt weak, dizzy, but she did not intend to give it all up quite yet.
“It’s a pity, no? And I’ve grown so fond of sinking fangs into this beautiful neck of yours.” Elizabeth hissed with pain as he did just that, but she did not struggle. The blood flowed, and he drained her quickly, knowing he did not have time to enjoy the bouquet. And yet her blood was so thick and heady, he could not help but lose himself in the rich taste. It was only a clamping feeling on his wrist that drew him back from the bliss of the blood.
Fangs bared, he pulled back to see what she’d done now. This time, her mischief had attained new heights, manifested in a manacle around his wrist. It was the one he used as punishment for his vampire crew, and her as well, not hours ago. It was one he knew he could not break free from, but he himself had a way out of it. Reaching to his pocket, he found the familiar lump that was his set of keys to be absent.
Almost playfully, she jangled them before him, before a fateful flick of wrist sent them careening into the darkness of the hold, hidden behind crates and barrels of only God knew what. The vampire watched in horror as the keys to his salvation flew away, making a splash as they were swallowed by shadow and clutter. He had no plans of going down with his ship. He was only going to exact his revenge, then escape in the longboat...but not now.
That one small gesture of tossing the keys exhausted Elizabeth. She’d lost so much blood in the past few days, and never before had she experienced such a feeling of lightheaded detachment from the world. She felt as though she were floating above it all, watching a play. Nothing quite seemed real, and perhaps it never was.
Francisco’s eyes burned blue, and he caught her unfocused gaze, ordering her to go fetch the keys. Absentmindedly she obeyed, sloshing through the deepening water in the direction she’d chucked them. But halfway there she stopped, slumping down to sit in the water, leaning her back against a barrel.
The order to fetch the keys roared in her mind, but she simply did not have the energy. She felt herself fading, as though she were drifting away from her body, floating somewhere above it. Was it death? It didn’t feel like anything, really, but maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
A shaking of her shoulders, minutes or hours after she’d closed her eyes, caused her to open them sleepily. A pair of intense dark orbs bore into hers, fraught with worry. “Come on, luv, wakeup,” he urged, failing at concealing the fear in his voice.
“Jack....” she breathed, “You shouldn’t be down here. The fuse...”
He looked around and noticed a fuse attached to a powder keg running dangerously close to ground zero.
“Come on, darlin’. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
She felt herself being lifted into those strong wiry arms, but could no longer keep her eyes open, or really keep much of an interest in the world in general. None of it really mattered, she realized in a moment of clarity. And everything was the same.
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“Abandon ship!” barked Jack, grabbing a line to swing over to the Pearl, one arm holding Elizabeth securely to him. There was no time to lose, he knew she was fading. “Cut the lines!”
The crew made haste with hacking at the lines and the Pearl began to drift away from La Isabella, sliding out of reach over the water as the first explosion shook the air. The fire spread to the other barrels, and the galleon was soon busted to shreds, and with a groan of protest, was sucked down into the inky water.
They’d won. Francisco went down with his ship. She’d done it again, that trick of the manacle. Only this time is wasn’t the lure of lips that lured the man to his death, but blood. Imagine Jack’s surprise walking down to the hold in search of Elizabeth, to find Don de Vargas had somehow fallen for nearly the exact same trick he had, that fateful day with the kraken.
The vampire had strained against the manacle, but apparently could not break free. Noticing Jack’s arrival, he’d rushed the pirate, but was stopped short by the chain like a tethered attack dog. “You’re too late,” he spat at Jack. “Too late to save her.”
It was then that Jack had noticed Elizabeth crumpled in a ball in the corner, and the fear, an all-consuming dread, welled up in his breast that the vampire was right.
Jack had faced monsters of all kinds, and every danger imaginable on the seven seas. Yet he didn’t think he’d ever been so afraid as he was in that moment, that Lizzy would die from her wounds.
Single-mindedly Jack set about proving de Vargas wrong. He set Lizzy down on his berth, and immediately set to tearing apart his cabin, in search of the illusive, last remaining flask of Agua de Vida.
It seemed Will too had ended up on the Pearl in the scramble to evacuate La Isabella, and he entered the cabin quietly. He stood at his wife’s bedside, convinced he was watching her die. He’d become quite familiar with death these past years, and its unmistakable flavor hung heavy in the air.
“Is it true, what Francisco said?” Will asked quietly, fingers caressing her hair gently. Contrary to Francisco’s claim, he hadn’t turned on Jack in the midst of the battle at hearing the accusation. Their pause had given the vampire a window to escape though, no doubt hunting down Elizabeth to exact his revenge, while Will and Jack were drawn into the battle again by different fanged opponents.
There was a crash, a curse, god knows what being thrown about the cabin, spilled on the floor, doors hanging open and drawers ajar in the wake of Jack Sparrow’s desperate search. “Yes, but save the pointy end of your sword for me till after I’ve saved her, eh?” he said hastily.
Where the bloody hell was it?!
Will felt dejected, but not as angry as one might expect. A man without a heart, he felt numb to many things that once would have upset him greatly. And for a flesh and blood woman left alone at shore, ten years was a long time. In a way he’d expected it, steeled himself for it. And somehow he’d known that if it would be anyone, it would be Jack, wouldn’t it? Those two shared a common ground he could never understand, never penetrate, never hope to be a part of.
Lost in his musings, Will was startled as he was shoved out of the way by Jack.
Propping up her limp form with one arm, Jack uncorked a small bottle with his teeth. “Come on, Lizzy luv,” he coaxed, “It’s not time for you to quit this world yet.” He poured some of the liquid between her lips. “Please, Lizzy. I need ye t’ live.”
Although he whispered, there was an unexpected urgency about him. Jack was a jokester, a trickster, even vicious at times, but Will could not recall once ever seeing a tender side. But here it was. Here it was with Will’s own wife, lying in his arms. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he chanted, pouring more water between her lips.
Will turned away. He didn’t want to watch, really. He felt so very detached. What did it really matter? Working with the dead had this effect upon him. It wasn’t nihilism, per se, but simply emptiness.
An unexpected cough turned Will’s attention back to the scene on Jack’s berth. “Jack?” Jack’s expression turned from grave to overjoyed in less than a second flat. “You came back for me,” she sighed, not having the strength for anything louder. “You keep coming back for me.”
Jack crushed her to him, relief coursing through his every fiber. “I haven’t the faintest idea why,” he grumbled, nose buried in her hair. Always, he thought, but didn’t dare say it aloud with Will so near. I will always come back for you.
Only after a few long seconds of holding Elizabeth did Jack remember he was holding the wife of another man, who of which was standing in this very room, watching them. “It seems you’ve cheated death once again, Jack,” said Will blandly.
The anger, the hurt, the moral indignation, seething jealousy Jack had predicted did not seem to be present in the whelp. All in all there was a certain surprising neutrality about him, that Jack never could have expected. Was that the price of the captaincy of the Dutchman? Complete and total apathy to the drama of the living?
“Er--aye.” A remark had come to mind, about he and Elizabeth both having a talent for cheating, but decided the eunuch wouldn’t appreciate the humor in it. He did seem to at least still possess that infuriating attribute.
“Hello, Will.” Elizabeth’s head still rested upon Jack’s shoulder as she addressed her husband. She had not the energy to move it. Will came to sit at her other side, and she found herself between the two men she cared for most. It wasn’t so bad, really.
But Jack felt undeniably awkward. “I’ll leave you two to....whatever whelpy eunuchy things you do.” With a gesture he couldn’t resist, a light kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead, he fled his cabin. Elizabeth watched him go, amused, but also sad. Now that the adventure was over would both her men be sailing off into the sunset again, leaving her behind?
“How did you...” So many questions filled her head for Will, yet she could not place a finger on a one of them. He pulled her back to relax in his arms. It was a comfort she’d been so long denied.
“Come back?” he finished for her. “Gibbs told me of the antics you mortals were up to. My wife was in danger, so I...I simply came. I don’t know what price I will pay for it to Calypso.”
“Is she a difficult mistress?”
Will fondled a lock of hair, admiring the gold color in the candlelight, whose brilliance had faded in his memory. He lived in darkness now, a world of brilliant stars, but most colors faded to gray. “No. She is...she simply is. She takes care of us.” There was something in Will’s voice, it made Elizabeth wonder. “So...you and Jack?”
She sat quietly, unable to answer for some time. In the end she found she couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.” she finally affirmed. “Do you hate me now?”
“No.” His voice was so neutral, so dispassionate. Is this what happens, when a man no longer has a heart? “Ten years is a long time to be alone, isn’t it?”
Hesitatingly, she answered, “Yes.”
“I’m not really angry. It’s strange, you know. I think I understand. Maybe even expected it.”
“You expected me to be unfaithful to you?” Elizabeth couldn’t quell the hint of indignation in her question.
Will, at least, mustered some amusement for that small irony. “I expected it to be Jack,” he said with a hint of a smile.
Somehow, for there was hardly any blood left in her body, Elizabeth managed to blush. “Will, we only just--I was alone, for five years, before…”
Will reached up to stroke the side of her face. Once, the sight of her, her fine beauty, drove him utterly crazy inside. As a young man he’d broken out into sweats, stuttered his greetings. Eventually he managed to rein himself in, to say a few words to her without tripping over his tongue completely, even if his insides still twisted up in knots. Now…he felt none of that excitement, that passion. He felt affection for Elizabeth, but it felt more like a distant memory. Everything here seemed just a distant memory.
“I don’t want you to be alone,” Will finally said, looking deep into her eyes. There was a shadow of a thrill in his heart, but it surfaced and disappeared in the depths of the emptiness that had once been his heart. “When I left I feared you would go to Jack, but now…I’m glad it’s him. Better him, than anyone else. He’s always loved you.”
Elizabeth’s expression of surprise was almost comical. He could have pushed her over with a feather.
“Will…” She reached out to him, wanted to draw him to her, to tell him all the things she hadn’t been able to in the past five years.
But the Captain of the Dutchman suddenly straightened, slipping from her grasp. “Calypso,” he whispered. “She’s here.”
A moment later, the cabin door opened, and in walked the goddess. She had taken the form Elizabeth was most familiar with, her tattooed face, and ink stained smile. And in her hands, she held a chest, a heavy metal one, dripping wet as though it had just been plucked from the sea. Jack watched from the doorway, curious what the sea goddess intended to do in his cabin.
Will rose from his seat beside his wife, and went down on one knee before Calypso, his mistress, head bowed low. “Will Turnah. You left you duty,” she said, voice rich and strange, yet neutral.
“Yes. I had to.”
Calypso gave him a considering look, almost curious. “Yes, I believe dat is tru.” Her eyes turned to Elizabeth, eyeing her curiously. “Bad tings happen, when men play games wid de balances.” She shot a hard glance back towards the door, where Jack now stood, but did not elaborate. “You did well to help send dat Francisco to de deep. Dis I can allow.”
“Is that my heart?” asked Will, looking to the dripping chest.
“Yes. I will keep it now. Perhaps it should ‘ave been me to keep it all along. Good ting you have clever friends, Will Turnah, or this could ‘ave ended badly indeed.”
She inclined her head to her ferryman, paying very little attention to Elizabeth or Jack. “Will you return now?” Was it a command, or a request? The goddess was mysterious; only Will could know her true wish.
“I will do my duty.”
Upon hearing Will confer his promise to serve another woman, Elizabeth’s heart ached. Something clenched inside, something broke, and it was all she could do to swallow a frustrated scream. Calypso turned those knowing eyes to her, as though she could sense the pain and anger coiling deep inside Elizabeth.
“Good.” Calypso turned to walk out of the cabin, and Jack watched with part amusement, part amazement, as she kept walking, over the gunwale and straight into the sea, chest still in hand.
“I must go,” said Will sadly, pushing to his feet. Elizabeth too tried to push to hers, but found her legs unable to support her. Jack instinctively stepped forward to help her, but found Will already there to catch her. Not wanting to see anymore, the pirate ducked out of his cabin once again. Will only paid him a fleeting glance, before turning to savor the last few moments with his wife he would have for the next five years.
“Will you be there for me, in five years, when I...”
“Of course,” assured Elizabeth.
Glancing back at Jack, who stood with his back to them on deck, visible through the open cabin door, Will said, “Whatever shore you’ve traveled to, I will find you. The sea answers any questions I care to know.” He kissed her then. It was a gentle, loving brush of lips, but there was no passion, no fire. All that had been cut out, it seemed, placed in a chest in the hands of a sea goddess. It was good he had Calypso, Elizabeth thought. The way she...had Jack.
She managed to walk out to the deck with Will, and watched sadly as he made to cross to the Flying Dutchman. “Take care of her,” he said quietly to Jack in passing. He couldn’t have surprised the pirate more if he’d slapped him. Face skewed pensively, Jack watched him go, wondering why he wasn’t engaged in a sword fight with the whelp at theat very moment.
Will simply wasn’t the same man they’d said farewell to, five years ago. But then again, how could he be?
Giving a final wave of goodbye, Will returned to the Flying Dutchman. With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth watched her husband sail away again, after only a torturously short time spent with him. Her legs threatened to give out once again, but Jack was there this time, slipping an arm around her waist for support. “Is it just me, or was that too easy?” he asked absently, almost as though he were only speaking to himself.
A telltale flash of green light filled the sky, and she turned to lean against Jack’s chest, at least at the moment, no longer interested in watching the horizon. Will didn’t have the capacity to be intensely emotional about anything anymore, it seemed. He’d cared enough to come to the surface, ensure her safety....but still, he was nearly as cold as the waves he ruled. There was a place for her in his heart, but ultimately, her husband now belonged to the sea, and the goddess who commanded it.
And where did she belong? She had no answer. But feeling Jack’s wiry arms around her, his breath stirring her hair atop her head, she had an inkling where to start her quest to find out.
Don de Vargas watched gravely as what could be none other than the Flying Dutchman surfaced from the depths of the ocean, or perhaps a whole other world. He couldn’t be sure, this business of the ferryman was still foggy, at best. Things were taking an unexpected turn once again. As though it weren’t enough to lose the main sail to that bitch’s meddling, he did not expect to come face to face with her husband so soon.
His crew had started an assembly chain, scooping buckets of water from the sea to at least keep the fire from spreading to the rest of the ship. Lightning crackled, and he knew the deluge that would soon fall from the sky would help matters a bit.
With not even an order but a thought, his men moved down below to prime the cannons, should things not go the way he hoped.
A man who was no doubt the Captain of the Flying Dutchman, William Turner, strode to the side of his ship. “Francisco de Vargas!” he called angrily, hand upon the hilt of his sword.
De Vargas returned the hostile greeting, he himself striding to face Turner. “Captain William Turner, I presume.” Turning to his mate, he snarled quietly, “Fetch the bitch, bring her here.”
“I’ve been told you are in possession of someone very dear to me.” His scowl illuminated by firelight was particularly menacing.
Rodrigo returned from below, dragging a worse for wear Elizabeth by the arm. “Will!” she exclaimed with astonishment, amazed to see none other than the Dutchman itself alongside La Isabella.
“That I am,” confirmed Francisco smugly. “Perhaps you would care to come aboard and discuss the terms of her release?”
Will eyed the burning main mast with a critical eye. “Your vessel doesn’t quite seem seaworthy. Perhaps you would care to come to this side? And bring her with you.”
“I’m afraid I cannot,” answered Francisco. It was not a lie, for the vampire truly could not cross the water between the two ships under his own power.
“Very well then, we’ll discuss them here. Release my wife, and your ship will be spared. Otherwise, I’m afraid nothing will prevent me from finishing the job she no doubt has already begun,” he said, gesturing at the flaming mast.
Elizabeth studied her husband, a man she had not seen in five years. He carried himself like a sea-captain now, several years of strange waters under his sash. There was something new about him now, something distant and cold. Was it the Dutchman taking hold of him? Or was it simply being a man without a heart?
“I have a different proposition. You--”
Francisco was distracted, for all attention everywhere was focused behind him. He turned to see a ship black as pitch glide up to flank La Isabella’s other side. “Game’s up, fang boy,” called a familiar and oh so irritating voice to Francisco’s ears. “Hand her over nicely, and we won’t blow this ugly piece of floating flotsam to flinders. Ain’t that right, Will?”
Will was surprised, and yet somehow not surprised, to see Jack entering the fray. The man had an uncanny ability to show up at the most unexpected times and places. “Spot on,” agreed Will coolly.
Wrenching Elizabeth from Rodrigo’s grasp, Francisco held her like a shield before him, twisting one arm behind her, the other hand gone to holding her neck. He laughed maliciously, but it smacked of a dog growling trapped in a corner. “As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted, is that I have a different proposition for you,” he continued calmly, attempting to hide his discomfort in the unexpected situation. I understand you have the power to bring those lost at sea back to the shore, of the living. Return my wife to me, and I will return yours.”
A figure familiar to Elizabeth walked up to stand next to her husband. Gibbs. He must have been the one to alert Will to the goings on of mortals on the other side.
All went silent, all eyes turned to the Captain of the Dutchman. Jack found himself repeating a mantra of old to Will in his head. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything stupid.
Will’s brow furrowed. “I can’t.” he finally answered, voice bland as toast but cool as ice.
“Can’t, or won’t?” asked Francisco through grinding teeth. His voice had gone low, his fingers digging a bit deeper into Elizabeth’s flesh, either intentionally or out of fear. Things were not going as he‘d hoped they would. She squirmed against his grasp, to no avail.
Will shook his black bandanaed head. “It’s impossible.”
Francisco could taste the truth of Will’s words. The man did not lie. Then all this had been for nothing? All his hopes of reunion smashed on the rocks with just two words. It’s impossible. Sadness welled up inside him, but was quickly overshadowed by its uglier counterparts: hatred, and rage.
Any esteem Jack felt for the whelp quickly evaporated. Telling the vicious vampire honestly that he can’t have what he wants, while said vampire is holding the throat of the woman they wanted to save? Stupid, stupid Will.
A flash of lightning split the sky, and the rain finally began to fall. Will read the hatred written across the vampire’s face, and realized he may have done a foolish thing.
Before another word could be said, an earsplitting crack caused everyone to jump, and the main mast began to topple over. It fell with a thud, making a burned bridge between the Dutchman and La Isabella. The unexpected chaos jarred a gunman down below in the Isabella, and the crash of the mast was soon followed by the boom of a cannon. There had been no order given, but the violence soon escalated out of control.
The Dutchman returned fire. Not to be left out of the fray, the Pearl fired from the other side. The rain poured from the sky, a near drowning deluge that extinguished what was left of the flames on the main mast.
Provided with a convenient bridge, the crew of the Dutchman boarded the Isabella. Francisco shoved Elizabeth to Rodrigo again, snarling an order to stow her away below, before he himself entered the fray.
Elizabeth felt weak, and yet the will to survive took hold. Rodrigo underestimated her, and she managed to wrench free and disappear into the chaos of the battle. Fearing Francisco’s wrath, Rodrigo would have pursued the troublesome woman, had he himself not been distracted by a pirate engaging his full attention.
Don de Vargas soon found himself crossing blades with the irate husband and lover both. In spite of Francisco’s superhuman speed, Will was an avid swordsman, and Jack was craftier than the devil himself; a combination of the two kept him well on his toes. “I remember your wife,” said Will, slashing for the vampire’s eyes, and only just barely missing. “Isabella de Vargas.”
“Why can’t you bring her back?” Francisco snarled, deflecting a slash from Jack and stab from Will both. “Why is she impossible, but others are?”
“She died a long time ago. I’ve already taken her across. She’s returned to the Great Ether. The nothing. The everything. Ready to start anew. I’m sorry, but you’ll never see her again.”
Jack listened quietly to Will’s explanation, and felt a certain vindication of suspicions he’d always held about true death. There was a cycle of death and rebirth, constant change and renewal. This was true in all things, the smallest most mundane systems to the largest chains of cycle. Humans were just too stupid, too blind, too absorbed in their own drama to recognize it.
“I don’t believe you!”
“She wouldn’t have wanted to come back anyway,” Will jabbed, both physically and verbally. “She already escaped you once.”
Francisco paused with surprise, and was nearly stabbed by Jack. He parried wildly, hissing, “What are you about?”
“I remember her, you cretin, she had the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. She committed suicide to escape you. Jumped ship in a storm.”
Rage boiled in the pit of Francisco‘s stomach. “Liar! Her ship sank on the crossing!”
“True, and I met them too. But Isabella most certainly died first, I’m afraid.”
“It’s all for naught, mate. Hand over the girl, and we’ll call this whole business off. What say you?” asked Jack, not really expecting it to be so easy.
A cold numb settled over Francisco. He’d been filled with such vigor, such hope that he would see his Isabella again, be with her, smell her hair and kiss those sweet lips...and in a few moments all that was taken away. He felt utterly empty inside, cold and cruelly alone. At that moment he decided that if he would never hold his Isabella again, Turner and Sparrow would most certainly lose their Elizabeth.
“But which do I hand her over to?” snarled the vampire, struggling to hold off his attackers. “Her husband, or her lover?”
Will froze at hearing the insinuation, startled into looking over at Jack. “What?”
Jack too blanched, fearing he would soon be on the pointy end of a blade expertly wielded by a very irate husband.
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Somehow avoiding the vampires, Elizabeth managed to slip back down into the hold again. The ship was listing to port, the cannon fire crippling La Infanta perhaps beyond repair. She worried for those she cared about up above, but other lives also held her attention, down below. The slaves who sailed the ship by day, held in reserve in their large holding pen by night. She thought of Jack and the mutiny he’d committed to free the slaves aboard the EITC ship, years ago. She knew he would understand her detour.
The slaves watched her fearfully, and some cried out as she raised the primed pistol she’d filched from a fallen comrade top deck. But the chief understood, and motioned for his people to move away from the lock. Keys were never convenient, but the pistol was a tried and true tool. All the captives were soon fleeing the cell, and only the chief stopped to thank her, briefly, before also running up. Water had begun to fill the hold, and came up to Elizabeth’s ankles. She decided to speed up the process a bit, and rolled a barrel of powder over to the wall. She readied a long fuse, and lit it with a lantern on the wall.
Satisfied with her goal of destruction, she made to beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. However, halfway to the companionway she stopped dead in her tracks. “And just where do you think you are going?” asked Francisco, blocking the way.
“Oh...nowhere,” she grumbled, heart dropping down to her stomach with disappointment and fear.
Francisco took a step down, limping, and gazed unhappily at the water up to his ankles. “It seems we are going somewhere, though down is not a desired direction at sea.”
He took another step forward, and she retreated farther into the hold. “So I hear your Isabella didn’t love you so very much after all. She felt like a collectable on a shelf too, I imagine.”
Francisco frowned. “I shall never be able to ask her, it seems. It is devastating to believe someone loves you, only to find they feel something entirely different.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the stab, still backing up as Francisco advanced. “True, and yet can she be blamed, if her husband is not giving her what she needs?”
“That is the excuse you women always use. I gave her everything she could have possibly wanted.”
“Except for her husband at home. Did you enjoy spilling my secret?” She was certain he had not missed the opportunity to create a rift, now that all was lost.
Elizabeth backed into a pillar, and the vampire pressed into her. “Oh yes, that was quite fun. By the look on William’s face, I would say he will never forgive you. That is, if I thought he would ever see you again. He and Jack are fighting out their differences as we speak.”
A sort of panic did a somersault in her stomach, mixed with her fear. But what was done was done. He turned up her chin, exposing a line of long neck that her maiden name described so perfectly. “You think to kill me?” Elizabeth felt weak, dizzy, but she did not intend to give it all up quite yet.
“It’s a pity, no? And I’ve grown so fond of sinking fangs into this beautiful neck of yours.” Elizabeth hissed with pain as he did just that, but she did not struggle. The blood flowed, and he drained her quickly, knowing he did not have time to enjoy the bouquet. And yet her blood was so thick and heady, he could not help but lose himself in the rich taste. It was only a clamping feeling on his wrist that drew him back from the bliss of the blood.
Fangs bared, he pulled back to see what she’d done now. This time, her mischief had attained new heights, manifested in a manacle around his wrist. It was the one he used as punishment for his vampire crew, and her as well, not hours ago. It was one he knew he could not break free from, but he himself had a way out of it. Reaching to his pocket, he found the familiar lump that was his set of keys to be absent.
Almost playfully, she jangled them before him, before a fateful flick of wrist sent them careening into the darkness of the hold, hidden behind crates and barrels of only God knew what. The vampire watched in horror as the keys to his salvation flew away, making a splash as they were swallowed by shadow and clutter. He had no plans of going down with his ship. He was only going to exact his revenge, then escape in the longboat...but not now.
That one small gesture of tossing the keys exhausted Elizabeth. She’d lost so much blood in the past few days, and never before had she experienced such a feeling of lightheaded detachment from the world. She felt as though she were floating above it all, watching a play. Nothing quite seemed real, and perhaps it never was.
Francisco’s eyes burned blue, and he caught her unfocused gaze, ordering her to go fetch the keys. Absentmindedly she obeyed, sloshing through the deepening water in the direction she’d chucked them. But halfway there she stopped, slumping down to sit in the water, leaning her back against a barrel.
The order to fetch the keys roared in her mind, but she simply did not have the energy. She felt herself fading, as though she were drifting away from her body, floating somewhere above it. Was it death? It didn’t feel like anything, really, but maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
A shaking of her shoulders, minutes or hours after she’d closed her eyes, caused her to open them sleepily. A pair of intense dark orbs bore into hers, fraught with worry. “Come on, luv, wakeup,” he urged, failing at concealing the fear in his voice.
“Jack....” she breathed, “You shouldn’t be down here. The fuse...”
He looked around and noticed a fuse attached to a powder keg running dangerously close to ground zero.
“Come on, darlin’. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
She felt herself being lifted into those strong wiry arms, but could no longer keep her eyes open, or really keep much of an interest in the world in general. None of it really mattered, she realized in a moment of clarity. And everything was the same.
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“Abandon ship!” barked Jack, grabbing a line to swing over to the Pearl, one arm holding Elizabeth securely to him. There was no time to lose, he knew she was fading. “Cut the lines!”
The crew made haste with hacking at the lines and the Pearl began to drift away from La Isabella, sliding out of reach over the water as the first explosion shook the air. The fire spread to the other barrels, and the galleon was soon busted to shreds, and with a groan of protest, was sucked down into the inky water.
They’d won. Francisco went down with his ship. She’d done it again, that trick of the manacle. Only this time is wasn’t the lure of lips that lured the man to his death, but blood. Imagine Jack’s surprise walking down to the hold in search of Elizabeth, to find Don de Vargas had somehow fallen for nearly the exact same trick he had, that fateful day with the kraken.
The vampire had strained against the manacle, but apparently could not break free. Noticing Jack’s arrival, he’d rushed the pirate, but was stopped short by the chain like a tethered attack dog. “You’re too late,” he spat at Jack. “Too late to save her.”
It was then that Jack had noticed Elizabeth crumpled in a ball in the corner, and the fear, an all-consuming dread, welled up in his breast that the vampire was right.
Jack had faced monsters of all kinds, and every danger imaginable on the seven seas. Yet he didn’t think he’d ever been so afraid as he was in that moment, that Lizzy would die from her wounds.
Single-mindedly Jack set about proving de Vargas wrong. He set Lizzy down on his berth, and immediately set to tearing apart his cabin, in search of the illusive, last remaining flask of Agua de Vida.
It seemed Will too had ended up on the Pearl in the scramble to evacuate La Isabella, and he entered the cabin quietly. He stood at his wife’s bedside, convinced he was watching her die. He’d become quite familiar with death these past years, and its unmistakable flavor hung heavy in the air.
“Is it true, what Francisco said?” Will asked quietly, fingers caressing her hair gently. Contrary to Francisco’s claim, he hadn’t turned on Jack in the midst of the battle at hearing the accusation. Their pause had given the vampire a window to escape though, no doubt hunting down Elizabeth to exact his revenge, while Will and Jack were drawn into the battle again by different fanged opponents.
There was a crash, a curse, god knows what being thrown about the cabin, spilled on the floor, doors hanging open and drawers ajar in the wake of Jack Sparrow’s desperate search. “Yes, but save the pointy end of your sword for me till after I’ve saved her, eh?” he said hastily.
Where the bloody hell was it?!
Will felt dejected, but not as angry as one might expect. A man without a heart, he felt numb to many things that once would have upset him greatly. And for a flesh and blood woman left alone at shore, ten years was a long time. In a way he’d expected it, steeled himself for it. And somehow he’d known that if it would be anyone, it would be Jack, wouldn’t it? Those two shared a common ground he could never understand, never penetrate, never hope to be a part of.
Lost in his musings, Will was startled as he was shoved out of the way by Jack.
Propping up her limp form with one arm, Jack uncorked a small bottle with his teeth. “Come on, Lizzy luv,” he coaxed, “It’s not time for you to quit this world yet.” He poured some of the liquid between her lips. “Please, Lizzy. I need ye t’ live.”
Although he whispered, there was an unexpected urgency about him. Jack was a jokester, a trickster, even vicious at times, but Will could not recall once ever seeing a tender side. But here it was. Here it was with Will’s own wife, lying in his arms. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he chanted, pouring more water between her lips.
Will turned away. He didn’t want to watch, really. He felt so very detached. What did it really matter? Working with the dead had this effect upon him. It wasn’t nihilism, per se, but simply emptiness.
An unexpected cough turned Will’s attention back to the scene on Jack’s berth. “Jack?” Jack’s expression turned from grave to overjoyed in less than a second flat. “You came back for me,” she sighed, not having the strength for anything louder. “You keep coming back for me.”
Jack crushed her to him, relief coursing through his every fiber. “I haven’t the faintest idea why,” he grumbled, nose buried in her hair. Always, he thought, but didn’t dare say it aloud with Will so near. I will always come back for you.
Only after a few long seconds of holding Elizabeth did Jack remember he was holding the wife of another man, who of which was standing in this very room, watching them. “It seems you’ve cheated death once again, Jack,” said Will blandly.
The anger, the hurt, the moral indignation, seething jealousy Jack had predicted did not seem to be present in the whelp. All in all there was a certain surprising neutrality about him, that Jack never could have expected. Was that the price of the captaincy of the Dutchman? Complete and total apathy to the drama of the living?
“Er--aye.” A remark had come to mind, about he and Elizabeth both having a talent for cheating, but decided the eunuch wouldn’t appreciate the humor in it. He did seem to at least still possess that infuriating attribute.
“Hello, Will.” Elizabeth’s head still rested upon Jack’s shoulder as she addressed her husband. She had not the energy to move it. Will came to sit at her other side, and she found herself between the two men she cared for most. It wasn’t so bad, really.
But Jack felt undeniably awkward. “I’ll leave you two to....whatever whelpy eunuchy things you do.” With a gesture he couldn’t resist, a light kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead, he fled his cabin. Elizabeth watched him go, amused, but also sad. Now that the adventure was over would both her men be sailing off into the sunset again, leaving her behind?
“How did you...” So many questions filled her head for Will, yet she could not place a finger on a one of them. He pulled her back to relax in his arms. It was a comfort she’d been so long denied.
“Come back?” he finished for her. “Gibbs told me of the antics you mortals were up to. My wife was in danger, so I...I simply came. I don’t know what price I will pay for it to Calypso.”
“Is she a difficult mistress?”
Will fondled a lock of hair, admiring the gold color in the candlelight, whose brilliance had faded in his memory. He lived in darkness now, a world of brilliant stars, but most colors faded to gray. “No. She is...she simply is. She takes care of us.” There was something in Will’s voice, it made Elizabeth wonder. “So...you and Jack?”
She sat quietly, unable to answer for some time. In the end she found she couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.” she finally affirmed. “Do you hate me now?”
“No.” His voice was so neutral, so dispassionate. Is this what happens, when a man no longer has a heart? “Ten years is a long time to be alone, isn’t it?”
Hesitatingly, she answered, “Yes.”
“I’m not really angry. It’s strange, you know. I think I understand. Maybe even expected it.”
“You expected me to be unfaithful to you?” Elizabeth couldn’t quell the hint of indignation in her question.
Will, at least, mustered some amusement for that small irony. “I expected it to be Jack,” he said with a hint of a smile.
Somehow, for there was hardly any blood left in her body, Elizabeth managed to blush. “Will, we only just--I was alone, for five years, before…”
Will reached up to stroke the side of her face. Once, the sight of her, her fine beauty, drove him utterly crazy inside. As a young man he’d broken out into sweats, stuttered his greetings. Eventually he managed to rein himself in, to say a few words to her without tripping over his tongue completely, even if his insides still twisted up in knots. Now…he felt none of that excitement, that passion. He felt affection for Elizabeth, but it felt more like a distant memory. Everything here seemed just a distant memory.
“I don’t want you to be alone,” Will finally said, looking deep into her eyes. There was a shadow of a thrill in his heart, but it surfaced and disappeared in the depths of the emptiness that had once been his heart. “When I left I feared you would go to Jack, but now…I’m glad it’s him. Better him, than anyone else. He’s always loved you.”
Elizabeth’s expression of surprise was almost comical. He could have pushed her over with a feather.
“Will…” She reached out to him, wanted to draw him to her, to tell him all the things she hadn’t been able to in the past five years.
But the Captain of the Dutchman suddenly straightened, slipping from her grasp. “Calypso,” he whispered. “She’s here.”
A moment later, the cabin door opened, and in walked the goddess. She had taken the form Elizabeth was most familiar with, her tattooed face, and ink stained smile. And in her hands, she held a chest, a heavy metal one, dripping wet as though it had just been plucked from the sea. Jack watched from the doorway, curious what the sea goddess intended to do in his cabin.
Will rose from his seat beside his wife, and went down on one knee before Calypso, his mistress, head bowed low. “Will Turnah. You left you duty,” she said, voice rich and strange, yet neutral.
“Yes. I had to.”
Calypso gave him a considering look, almost curious. “Yes, I believe dat is tru.” Her eyes turned to Elizabeth, eyeing her curiously. “Bad tings happen, when men play games wid de balances.” She shot a hard glance back towards the door, where Jack now stood, but did not elaborate. “You did well to help send dat Francisco to de deep. Dis I can allow.”
“Is that my heart?” asked Will, looking to the dripping chest.
“Yes. I will keep it now. Perhaps it should ‘ave been me to keep it all along. Good ting you have clever friends, Will Turnah, or this could ‘ave ended badly indeed.”
She inclined her head to her ferryman, paying very little attention to Elizabeth or Jack. “Will you return now?” Was it a command, or a request? The goddess was mysterious; only Will could know her true wish.
“I will do my duty.”
Upon hearing Will confer his promise to serve another woman, Elizabeth’s heart ached. Something clenched inside, something broke, and it was all she could do to swallow a frustrated scream. Calypso turned those knowing eyes to her, as though she could sense the pain and anger coiling deep inside Elizabeth.
“Good.” Calypso turned to walk out of the cabin, and Jack watched with part amusement, part amazement, as she kept walking, over the gunwale and straight into the sea, chest still in hand.
“I must go,” said Will sadly, pushing to his feet. Elizabeth too tried to push to hers, but found her legs unable to support her. Jack instinctively stepped forward to help her, but found Will already there to catch her. Not wanting to see anymore, the pirate ducked out of his cabin once again. Will only paid him a fleeting glance, before turning to savor the last few moments with his wife he would have for the next five years.
“Will you be there for me, in five years, when I...”
“Of course,” assured Elizabeth.
Glancing back at Jack, who stood with his back to them on deck, visible through the open cabin door, Will said, “Whatever shore you’ve traveled to, I will find you. The sea answers any questions I care to know.” He kissed her then. It was a gentle, loving brush of lips, but there was no passion, no fire. All that had been cut out, it seemed, placed in a chest in the hands of a sea goddess. It was good he had Calypso, Elizabeth thought. The way she...had Jack.
She managed to walk out to the deck with Will, and watched sadly as he made to cross to the Flying Dutchman. “Take care of her,” he said quietly to Jack in passing. He couldn’t have surprised the pirate more if he’d slapped him. Face skewed pensively, Jack watched him go, wondering why he wasn’t engaged in a sword fight with the whelp at theat very moment.
Will simply wasn’t the same man they’d said farewell to, five years ago. But then again, how could he be?
Giving a final wave of goodbye, Will returned to the Flying Dutchman. With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth watched her husband sail away again, after only a torturously short time spent with him. Her legs threatened to give out once again, but Jack was there this time, slipping an arm around her waist for support. “Is it just me, or was that too easy?” he asked absently, almost as though he were only speaking to himself.
A telltale flash of green light filled the sky, and she turned to lean against Jack’s chest, at least at the moment, no longer interested in watching the horizon. Will didn’t have the capacity to be intensely emotional about anything anymore, it seemed. He’d cared enough to come to the surface, ensure her safety....but still, he was nearly as cold as the waves he ruled. There was a place for her in his heart, but ultimately, her husband now belonged to the sea, and the goddess who commanded it.
And where did she belong? She had no answer. But feeling Jack’s wiry arms around her, his breath stirring her hair atop her head, she had an inkling where to start her quest to find out.