(To the people that decide to read this... The story picks up toward the end of Pirates of the Caribbean 5, Dead Men Tell No Tales. The end credit scene at the end of the movie is crucial to you understanding this. Even so, we aren't sure what that scene meant and as I see it, being a fan and a writer I am allowed to make up ideas on where it could lead. I 100% don't believe this is what the directors are going to do but it really shouldn't matter as this is a fanfiction, a story for fun. So please no hating because you don't think it goes with the movies ect ect. Do, however, feel free to give construction criticism and give me comments. I write these stories for the Pirates of the Caribbean fans out there, and hope some of you at least will enjoy this. Let's see where the wind takes us, shall we maties?)

The waves lapped gently at the edge of the sand, softly filling in the footprints leading up the coast to the buildings above. It was hard to imagine that the place had once been a beautiful port, with people bustling here and there, trees, children running in the street, horses and carriages…

For it was silent as a grave, despite the occasional creak of wood when the sea breeze ruffled through. The buildings lay in cold, murky shadows, slowly decaying, crumbling with no one to stop them.

Who could live in a place like this? Who's footprints stepped on the sand and wandered through the empty cobblestone streets in the dark? I will tell you. A man, doomed to an eternity of suffering in a place of torment. Of solitude. Perhaps you remember him. James Norrington.

…

James wasn't sure if he was sleeping or hallucinating. He had been in this place so long it was hard to distinguish anything. A sense of time, reality…How long had he been here? A year? A decade?

The Locker did it's job well. Forcing him to watch as his beloved Port Royal rotted away before his very eyes. At first he had told himself not to be so concerned, the real Port Royal was safe and sound and as beautiful as ever. But of course, it had been so long now…who was to say this wasn't the 'real' Port Royal? The one he remembered so well…who was to say that all the citizens he'd looked after and protected weren't dead, vanished, gone.

All but one.

She came sometimes...she had come now. It was what woke James from his slumber—if he truly was asleep. She walked the streets tantalisingly, her blonde hair waving lightly in the breeze, a playful smile curved on her lips.

He'd given up chasing her long ago. Even if she was real, he never could catch her. She was always just around the next corner, the next bend…just out of his grasp…before she vanished. Instead he stood and watched as she battered her eyelashes. "What's the matter, James? Don't you miss me?"

No…she wasn't real. But the pain that flashed through the former Admiral's green eyes, stung his heart at her words certainly was.

Elizabeth Swann was her name. Or, the name of the real woman this figure was impersonating. He had loved her…very much.

James spun away now, walking down the deserted streets to the black sea. Trust the bloody Locker to remind him every second of the rest of eternity what he wanted to forget most. That Elizabeth wasn't his. She was married to a pirate. A blacksmith. A common boy. Will Turner.

Oh, he could have forced her to marry him. It would have been easy for a man of his postion…but he could not. The happiness in her eyes when she looked at the boy had been too much for him. For not matter how much he tried, he knew she'd never look at him in that same way. And so he'd let her go…but not without paying a price.

The ache in his heart was wearing him thin. The proud naval officer people used to remember was no longer the man who stood at the edge of the water, staring up at the blinking stars. Eternity had awhile to go yet.

"James…"

He ignored the whispering voice. Many strange things transpired here…and he'd taught himself it was better if he pretended they weren't happening.

"James Norrington…"

Something touched his shoulder. He tensed and spun. Hallucinations didn't have warmth.

Standing behind him was a dark-skinned woman, her black hair framing her face. She was watching his reaction with an expression unreadable to James. Despite the slight look of pity.

"You don't know me." She stated finally, noticing his apparently confusion and bewilderment. "No doubt it must be strange for you. After so long isolated."

"I'm not that alone." He murmured quietly, wondering if he was dreaming. But there was no Elizabeth, so perhaps not…

She smiled, a knowing smile. Giving James an almost eerie feeling. She was right, he did not know her. But she seemed to know him. "Who are you?"

"If I told you, I don't think you would listen to what I have to say…"

"So I shouldn't trust you?" James answered bluntly, still suspicious. Nothing good happened in this place...nothing good had happened to him at all.

"I did not say that….but if you would rather stay here in your torment I will leave." She turned, but James grabbed her arm swiftly.

"No, don't."

She smiled again, for a moment, but then her face turned gravely serious. "I have watched you, from the moment you came into this place. You had a touch of destiny about you…many years have passed and nothing happened. But I am never wrong. Will Turner has given up his duty as captain of the Flying Dutchman. The ship must always have a captain. And if that captain should fail to do his duty, to ferry the souls of the dead to the other side…he be cursed."

James' mind was reeling as he listened, trying to take it in. He was having flashbacks of his past, of his life on the other side of this ocean. He blinked, feeling his head start to thump. So Jones had been killed, and young William had taken his place... "What happened to Elizabeth?" he interrupted, cutting the strange woman off.

"Ah…" she sighed. "Mrs Turner missed him very much…his son too."

"They had a son?" James felt his mouth go dry.

"Mmm..." the dark-haired woman nodded slowly. "It was him that broke the curse for his father, setting him free to go home to his family. To leave his duty as captain and go unpunished."

James swallowed suddenly, feeling like his head was turning to sand. Was he understanding this correctly? Or had all this time—years according to this woman—in the Locker turned his brain to mush? "What does this have to do with me?"

"You must captain the Flying Dutchman." Her voice took on a forceful tone, her eyes flashing. There was no disagreeing with her. "And payback Will Turner for what he has done."

James blinked and turned his head away for a moment, gazing out over the dark water. Go back…captain the Flying Dutchman, payback William Turner…see Elizabeth again.

Early on he'd dreamt and hoped that this day would come, that he could go back. But now the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Why did you choose me?" his voice was hostile, "The Dutchman can't have a new captain unless the heart has been stabbed." Yet deep down he knew the answer.

"With the curse broken, many things have changed…" the woman stared at him for a long time. "The trident has put many things in the past. But Will Turner must not go unpunished for what he has done. You must be the next captain. You must put things right."

"Why?" James spun to look at her.

"Because you are the only one who can do this…you know why. The hurt, the anger he has caused you…"

"Stop." James rasped, swallowing the hot lump forming in his throat. He couldn't handle her hashing it all out. He was barely able to handle this.

"You must be the captain." She repeated firmly. "You must put things right."

James was silent for a long moment, staring out at the waves, the dark water and letting his mind whirl. Why should Turner be allowed to settle down and enjoy his wife? Neglecting the duties he'd signed up for when James was stuck in torment because of him? "I'll do it." He decided finally, a fresh burst of anger swelling in his chest. "Take me there."