Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry it has been so long! I promise, I have not fallen off of the face of the planet!
You're probably wondering why two of the chapters from COTBP Remixed are missing, right? They're not, I promise. I just decided to split Jessabelle's story into four parts-one for each movie. That, and the way this chapter starts off kinda suggests that it should have been in a separate story. But don't worry, you will get a brand new chapter, hopefully soon. It's been hard writing the next chapter with what's been going on in my life (and the recent arrival of Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance), and this chapter is just being really hard to write, mainly because I want it to be perfect.
But enough of that, so here is the recently amended chapter one of Dead Man's Chest Remixed!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I only own the OC's Jessabelle, Jason, Stephany and, unfortunately, Cindy Beckett.
Chapter One: Bootstrap
It was now dark outside. He never expected to be in that prison for so long. But it was worth it in the end.
Jack Sparrow looked down at the map. He was currently drawing out a route, but there were only two things that were keeping him from continuing. One of those was his compass itself. It didn't seem to want to make up its mind as to what direction it wanted to go in.
I know what I want. I know what I want, Jack thought. I know what I want.
He tapped the compass, hoping it would finally stop in one direction. Disappointed that it didn't, he threw down his pen and sat back in his seat. Then he turned to the second distraction.
He picked up the bottle of rum to take a drink, but noticing that it felt a bit light, he turned it upside down and tiny drops dripped out of the bottle.
"Why is the rum always gone?" he asked to no one in particular. He set the bottle on the table, stood up, and swayed to his left in motion with his ship.
"Oh," he said, as he grabbed his hat. "That's why."
He walked to the double doors that led to the rest of the ship, put his coat on, grabbed a lantern, and grabbed a set of keys. He walked outside in the cool Atlantic breeze, and went down the stairs leading down to the hold.
He had to pass the crew's bunks (more like hammocks) as he headed down. As he did, he heard the snores of his shipmates, most coming from his first mate, Joshamee Gibbs.
"As you were, gents," he said, and continued down the next set of stairs that led to the cargo hold. It was down there that he used the keys to unlock the door that led to thing he wanted most at that moment—rum.
He hurried in and closed the door behind him. He walked through with a smile on his face, and hung the keys on a nail a few feet away from the door.
As he was walking, he noticed something that he hadn't expected. In one of the slots that usually contained a rum bottle, he saw anemones, carbuncles, and a muscle or two that shone in the light of the lantern. He shrugged it off, and looked around until he found what he wanted. In a few slots below where he was investigating, was a rum bottle. He picked it up, but to his utter dismay, found it to be full of sand.
Bugger! he thought.
The next sound he heard startled him and caused him to drop the bottle, which shattered instantly.
"Time's run out, Jack," the voice said.
Jack turned quickly towards the direction the voice came from, and raised the lantern so that he could see a lot better. We walked a little in that direction, and noticed a form slunked over. He walked towards it more, curiosity getting the better of him.
I recognize that voice, he thought. But how did he get here?
He shone the lantern on the form so that he could hopefully make out who it was. "Bootstrap?" he asked. "Bill Turner?"
At the mention of his name, Bootstrap Bill sat up, and looked at him. "You look good, Jack," he said.
Jack took the moment to take in the person that was in front of him. It looks like him, he thought. Bootstrap was soaked from head to toe. He was dressed in all black with a matching bandana. On his shoulders, Jack could make out pieces of coral that were attached. Carbuncles and a single star were connected to his face, and his dark brown hair plastered it as well. He gave his former shipmate a look mixed with surprise and disgust.
He's looked better, I suppose, Jack thought.
"Is this a dream?" he asked Bootstrap.
"No."
"I thought not. If it were, there'd be rum."
As if reading his mind, Turner Sr. handed Jack a small bottle of rum. Jack took it without hesitation. He found it somewhat difficult considering the bottle was stuck to the older pirate's hand.
When Jack finally got the bottle free, Bootstrap said "Got the Pearl back, I see."
"I had some help retrieving the Pearl, by the way," Jack said. "Your son and daughter."
"William? Jessabelle?"
Jack confirmed by taking a swig of rum, with a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Jessabelle, he thought. I certainly do miss her smile.
"Turned pirate after all," Bootstrap said, bringing Jack back to the present.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your carbuncle?" Jack asked.
"He sent me."
Jack gave him a puzzled look.
"Davy Jones."
"Ah, so it's you then. He shanghaied you into service, eh?" Jack set the lantern down, and sat down on a barrel.
"I chose it," Bootstrap said. "I'm sorry for the part I played in the mutiny against you, Jack."
You bloody should be.
A hermit crab crawl across one of the barrels that Bootstrap was sitting next to. He caught it before it scurried away.
"But I stood up for you. Everything went wrong after that." He stuck the hermit crab in his mouth and ate it, causing Jack to make a face. Bootstrap continued on. "They strapped me to a cannon. I ended up at the bottom of the ocean, the weight of the water crashing down on me. Unable to move, unable to die, Jack."
Right, Jack thought. The curse.
"I thought that if there was the slightest hope of escaping this fate, I would take it."
"Ah," Jack said. He got up from his spot and began to walk off. "It's funny what a man will do to forestall his final judgment."
He turned, only to be met by Bootstrap. "You made a deal with him, too, Jack," he said. "He raised the Pearl from the depths for you. Thirteen years you've been her captain."
"Technically—"
"Jack, you won't be able to talk yourself out of this. The terms what apply to me apply to you as well. One soul, bound to crew a hundred years aboard his ship."
"Yes," Jack said. "But the Flying Dutchman already has a captain, so then there's really—"
"Then it's the Locker for you!"
Jack didn't like the idea of that at all.
"Jones' terrible leviathan will find you," Bootstrap warned him. "It'll drag the Pearl back to the depths and you along with it!"
"Any idea when Jones might release said terrible beastie?"
Bootstrap shook his head. "I already told ya, Jack. The time is up."
He grabbed a hold of Jack's left hand and rubbed the palm and back of his own on the palm of Jack's. "It comes now, drawn with ravenous hunger for what man bears the Black Spot."
Jack stared at his hand as a black spot began to form. He looked up to say something to Bootstrap, but he had disappeared. He looked back down at his hand, and ran for it, all the way back to the main deck.
On his way up, he woke up the crew. "On deck all hands! On deck! Scurry!" He hurried along the crew's hammocks and continued to rouse them. "Quickly, I want movement! Move! I want movement!"
Gibbs woke with a start, hurrying with the rest of the Pearl's crew. He quickly threw his boots on and hurried after Jack.
"I want plenty of running!" Jack continued to shout. He grabbed a piece of cloth off a passing sailor, and quickly wrapped it around his hand. "Run as if the devil himself is upon us!"
"Do we have a heading?" Gibbs asked.
"Ah!" Jack exclaimed, not really expecting to see Gibbs following him. "Run! Land!"
He ducked, hoping that Gibbs would leave and carry out his orders. He stood back up, and Gibbs was still there.
"Ah!" he exclaimed.
"Which port?" Gibbs asked.
"I didn't say 'port', I said 'land'. Any land!"
Suddenly, Jack felt a cool breeze on his head. Jack the Monkey swung by and stole his hat. The monkey hissed at him, and Jack copied. Then the monkey threw the hat out to sea.
"Jack's hat!" Gibbs exclaimed. "Bring 'er about!"
"No, no, no, leave it!"
All eyes were on their captain. He never went without his hat.
"Run." Jack walked away in the direction of his cabin. When the others weren't looking, he hid underneath the stairs that were right outside his cabin.
"Back to your stations!" Gibbs called out to the crew. He turned, and Jack was nowhere to be found, until he saw a face behind the stairs. He walked closer and said "Jack?"
"Shh!" Jack whispered.
"For the love of Mother and child, Jack. What's coming after us?"
"Nothing," Jack said, giving Gibbs the I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about face.
Suddenly, the Pearl lurched. Jack, not wanting his ship going down after he just got it back a month ago, headed up the stairs to the helm. At the wheel, was an old man wearing a dark blue bandana. On his shoulder was a blue and yellow macaw.
"Mr. Cotton! I must inform you that you will not be sinking me ship tonight," Jack told the older pirate. "Savvy?"
"Raaawwk, wasn't me," Cotton's parrot squawked.
Jack and Gibbs walked from the quarterdeck to the main deck, and looked over the port side rail.
This has happened before, Jack thought.
"Mr. Gibbs?"
"Aye, Cap'n?"
"What is it called when it feels like you've done something before?" Jack asked his first mate.
"Déjà vu, Cap'n," was Gibbs' answer.
"Ah. I'm feeling that right about now."
"Really?" Gibbs asked in disbelief.
The ship lurched again. Jack was the closet to the rail, and toppled head first into the water.
"Jack!" Gibbs exclaimed.
As Jack sank under the surface, he looked around to see what caused his ship to lurch like that. But there was absolutely nothing to be found.
Something caught Jack's eye. What is that? he wondered.
A blue light shone through the dark waters of the Atlantic. It enveloped the captain, and within a second he was gone.
xxx
Moments later, Jack resurfaced, sputtering water. He looked around and noticed that his beloved Pearl was gone.
Where the bloody hell is my ship? he wondered.
The longer he looked, the more he became distracted by the sounds of the city behind. He finally took a moment to figure out where he was.
He was no longer in the middle of the Atlantic, as he obviously noticed. He noticed that there was a harbor nearby, and not wanting to be any more soaked than he already was, he swam towards it.
He pulled himself up onto the boardwalk, and sat down while he dumped the water out if his boots. He looked around at the shops next to the harbor and the ships themselves. They were quite strange to him. The ships were smaller than the Pearl, and none of them seemed to have sails. They seemed to hum as they were passing by.
How are they sailing then? Jack wondered.
He heard some giggling coming from one of the shops. He turned and noticed it was coming from a group of men and women, speaking what seemed to be fluent Italian and sharing drinks.
He looked around him once again. He saw that the majority of the buildings still had some of the charm of the Old World. He realized where he was.
Ah, he thought, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Venice.
He heard more giggling, but it was this particular giggling that caught him off guard. He looked around him and back towards the pub. He heard it again, but instead of Italian following the giggling, he heard English.
He found the giggling group heading towards the end of the harbor, and watched them as they turned the corner. Curious to know what they were so giggly about and wanting to confirm his suspicions, Jack followed the group into the alley.
Keeping mainly to the shadows, Jack listened to the group's conversation.
"I just can't believe you pushed Beckett into the fountain!" a boy of at least twenty-one exclaimed. He had short brown hair that seemed to have red streaks in it.
Beckett, Jack thought. Now where have I heard that before. He thought about it for a moment, and then disgusted expression came over his face. Oh.
"Yeah, I can't believe it either," said a girl with straight red and blonde hair. She looked to be the same age as the boy. "I mean, yeah, she deserved it, but you couldn't have held it in and waited until after we graduate?"
Oh, this Beckett is a she. Never mind.
"No, it couldn't have waited," another girl said. "She pushed me over the edge, and she got exactly what she deserved." To Jack, her voice sounded like angels singing.
It was this girl that Jack was most interested in seeing, and wanted to make sure she wasn't a hallucination.
He stepped to get closer to them, but one of the baubles in his dreads jingled and caused them to turn around to see who the intruder was. It only lasted a moment before they turned around and continued walking. But Jack only needed a moment to take a good look at the girl he hadn't seen in a month.
Her deep blue eyes shone bright against her pale skin. Under the streetlamp, the light shone off of her golden brown locks, the length of it was to the middle of her back. She was wearing normal street clothes for this time period- a black tank top under a purple shirt that seemed to only drape over one shoulder with a pair of black trousers (jeans, I believe she called them, Jack thought) and a pair of brown boots.
He recognized those boots. Those were the boots he had given to her when she first arrived in the Caribbean.
"Jessabelle," he whispered.
