A/N: I did this in reaction to the shocking cliffhanger of Dead Man's Chest to help me deal with the long wait for the 3rd film. You might not enjoy it but I kinda did it as a sort of therapy for myself. There's no specific plot just fancy writing, magic, and some metafictional fun. In case you ignored the summary DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE SECOND PIRATES MOVIE. Also, apologies for lack of updating…I developed repetitive strain…darn it.
A Saving of Souls
On a shore of black sand Captain Jack Sparrow opened his eyes and gasped in a breath as though he'd not inhaled for an age. He felt he should be cold, for the heaviness in his clothes told him he was utterly drenched. Yet though he could feel a wind in his face, it made him no warmer or cooler.
His swimming vision took in the purple sky.
His lips said, "Oh bugger."
The shaken pirate sat up and watched a sea blacker than the sand, with silver wave crests, lap the beach near his boots. There was no moon or star overhead but still he could see.
Jack, ol' son, it's my believing you're well and truly done in this time. Face facts Captain, you're dead, he thought.
For a moment his moustache drooped like a mutt who'd lost his bone. Then his eyes sparkled and he grinned.
At least you went out with a bang, mate. Now they'll never forget Captain Jack Sparrow!Salty droplets rained from his garments as he stood up. He whirled about, scouring the wastes.
"What is this?" he cried with eerie cheer, his voice booming across the beach. "Hell?"
The landscape made no reply but for the slow rolling of the waves.
"Where are my demons of torment, eh?" he challenged. "My mutinous crewmates of times past? Barbossa?"
He trudged a little way up the shore, scoring furrows in the soft black grit.
"Is there no one to answer me?" he shouted, his tone starting to fail.
In the distance the tops of a quiet forest shuddered in the breeze. It was a maddening calm, but it brought a strange comfort to the soul. All Jack could think of to describe it was – the essence of the Black Pearl.
He swallowed and tapped his fingers nervously. He turned towards the sea with a mind to discover some vessel that might free him of this silence.
And there she was.
A young woman, barely out of adolescence, stood on the shoreline. Her hair was long, dark and slightly messy. She wore a black cloak and a flowing red skirt.
Jack almost fell over in surprise.
"And you are...?" he asked.
She appeared on the verge of speaking but closed her mouth and remained quiet.
The pirate searched her face cautiously.
"What say you, miss? Am I in hell?"
She shook her head. Before he could question she said, "These are the Ends of the Earth."
Jack chewed his lip.
"Then I'm dead?"
The girl screwed up her face as if battling some inner pain. She said nothing.
He took a step towards her.
"Do you withhold because you fear I won't cope with your answer," he wondered. "Or is it that you cannot give it?"
She smiled sadly at him and replied, "It's not mine to give."
"Right you are then," said the pirate, if only to keep the silence from being so deafening. He poked at the sand before speaking again. "Supposing I am…dead…you would be a…what? Angel? Sorceress of minor temptation perhaps?"
The girl frowned at the words 'minor temptation' but shrugged them off.
"I'd like to say I was your guardian," she said. "But I am instead a Painter of Words. Where I come from, I create adventures for people like you, but my curse is that I cannot paint your destiny, your true story. You do not follow the paths I make for you." She hesitated then added, "Except those times you were outside of your world."
Jack's eyes narrowed as a missing jigsaw piece of memory slotted into place.
"You're the reason for my being dragged into that watsisplace and met that man with the strange haircut? Wonka…and the others?"
She nodded.
"And the other time? With that mad woman who-," the pirate began, his fingers drifting to his cutlass hilt.
The girl hushed him, replying, "Yes, that was also my doing but we're not free to speak of it. The story is not yet told where I come from and there may be listeners here."
Jack raised an eyebrow at the thought of anyone being able to listen on this desolate isle, and then he sighed.
"If I'd not 'ad so much fun with those other scoundrels, I'd be lookin' to settle a score with you, lass." He paused, then: "Am I out of my path now? Are you the reason I'm here in this, no offence, godforsaken scrap of endless nothing?"
The Writer laughed a little.
"I did bring you here. I heard a rumour you were to be found at the 'ends of the earth' so I made a place with that name and called you. You drifted here after your battle against the Kraken."
Jack shivered at the word and appeared puzzled.
"Kraken?" he repeated.
Then the memory hit him. A series of flashbacks – his first ever experience of them; fear; guilt; a kiss; betrayal; a last snatch of freedom then leaping sword-drawn into the jaws of deadly legend.
"Ah, that beastie," muttered Jack. He looked hopefully at the young entity. "Did I kill it?"
"I don't know," she answered, grief returning. "But no matter how it ended, help will come."
"Help?"
The woman's eyes lit fiercely of a sudden.
"Aye. Your friends don't follow the same code as you are wanton to, Jack Sparrow. It makes no difference how much you hurt them, in the end they will come for you. But I foresee heavy consequences for all."
The pirate sucked in air through his teeth, trying to ignore the awful churning in his gut. He lifted his head high and edged nearer to her.
"Some largely prophetic words for one so young," he purred coldly. "You can't be more than twenty."
The otherworldly girl moved face to face with him.
"True, sir, but though you are more than twice my age most likely, you have existed for less."
Jack's hand darted out in and effort to grab her wrist but, in the same instant, she raised her other hand and a wall of strong glass barred the way.
The pirate stepped back, his knuckles bruised. He waited, watching and then to show he was no threat seated himself on the sand.
She drew her hand down the surface of the glass. It shattered but not into sharp fragments. The pieces became black rose petals that flittered off into the forest.
"I broke my jar of dirt," Jack whimpered.
The phrase made little sense in the circumstances but it was all he could think up to express his hopelessness.
The girl knelt beside him and took his hand.
He was bewildered by this place's ability to pour into his tainted being. It made him feel like a child, as though he understood nothing, almost like he needed to cry. It was a feeling that Captain Sparrow hadn't felt in a long time if he'd ever felt it at all. Innocence was painful to him.
"What do you want of me, you strange harpy?" Jack growled lightly. "If it's flesh pleasures you desire, you need only the magics of rum. Else prefer you to torment me with the wrongs of my past, aye? Not gonna work, love. Not the way of a pirate to dwell on what I leaves behind."
The Writer reached out intending to stroke his face with the back of her hand but she stopped, half-expecting him to flinch.
"Jack," she said, her eyes glassy. "You are to me what no one could hope to understand. I can't control your fate and so a part of me is bound to it. I fear your decisions, your secrets. It pains me to know you are not mine, not to own but to guide. I need you because you are my freedom and inspiration."
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears.
"I'm not allowed to know your fate for another year of my time. Your tale is suspended. To lose you for that long is agony. That is why I brought you here. To see you safe. To let you rest until your destiny continues by leave of your original Painter."
Before she could defend herself, Jack snatched the hand near his face but held it gently. The unexplainable light of the Ends of the Earth shimmered frighteningly in his eyes.
"You speak as if of gods," he mused.
"Something like that," said the girl smiling absently.
Jack nodded slowly. A thought struck him.
"Well, ta for the concern, missy," he proclaimed, tapping her hand. "But I think it be fair all around if I got back to me old path and found out what's waitin' for me, savvy?"
She frowned apologetically.
"You can't," she said, then added hastily. "And not because I won't let you. It's just your future isn't there yet. I can't send you back until you have something to live."
She hoped that made sense.
"Oh," was the reply. Apparently sense didn't matter. "So what do I do? What can I do?" His eyes swept across her in a rather alarming manner.
The girl pulled her hand from him, forcing herself not to react when his fingers spidered playfully off her wrist.
"What I could do is put you back into an earlier part of your story with no memory of how it will turn out, so you can relive it exactly the same way. It'd be bad for having to go through the same pains again but they'd seem like the first time to you and it'll keep you occupied.
And…bonus is you'll always know about this place and can take a break here without passing any time in your own story. I'll be here if you need anything."
Jack smirked. "Is that so?"
She coughed and got to her feet.
"Where would you like to go back to, Mr Sparrow? Captain Sparrow," she added vaguely.
The pirate picked himself up, letting a handful of the black sand trickle through his fingers.
"Back to my ship would have to be the answer," he said. "Back to the Pearl before all the palaver with the cannibals an' Davy Jones. Far away as can be from facin' that monster again. Might as well put off my likely death as long as, savvy?"
He winked, showing briefly the faint remains of a painted eye on his eyelid.
The girl gulped quietly, holding back a sob.
"As you wish," she choked.
"You know," said Jack. "I've heard in some stories that sayin' as you wish means -."
"Shut it Jack."
Captain Sparrow grinned. He leapt forward and drew her in against him, arms tightly around her. Dizziness struck the girl, but not through desire. Let's say that the scent of hot, sweaty, salty pirate is a bit of a shock to the senses.
She leaned back as much as she dared, leaving a few centimetres between their faces.
"I'm taken, Jack."
He leaned in closer, lifting a hand to push her head towards him.
"Is he anything like me?" he chuckled, gold teeth glinting.
At this she faked a lustful glance and moved in as though to meet his lips with hers. He shot forward for the kill but she turned her face at the last moment, letting him plant a kiss on her cheek.
She whispered in his ear, "You'd be surprised."
Where her fingers had gripped his shoulders there sprung tiny flames. Jack yelped and jumped backwards, beating them down.
The girl giggled and waved a hand. The burn marks on his shirt vanished.
"Goodbye Jack," she said. "I hope you still remember that old song."
"Drink up me hearties, yo ho," the pirate sneered.
"Oh, one more thing before I send you back…" She tried not to laugh at his scowl.
"What?"
She dealt him a stinging slap across his face.
"Ow!"
"That's for being such a bastard to your friends."
Jack opened his mouth to say something but she interjected, "And yes, you deserved that one."
She hugged him before he had a chance to dodge and then touched the coin in the centre of his bandanna. Her fingertips glowed for a moment and then Captain Jack Sparrow, and the Ends of the Earth, faded away.