Author's Notes: DAVY JONES IS A ROBOTO
And, uh, some Elizabeth bashing?
Notes: This is somewhat AU, but the characters here are descendants of the pirates you know and love. The Jack Sparrow here was descended from the pirate, same for Will and Elizabeth. Davy Jones, however, is a robot. The personalities are also played with a little, because they aren't exactly the same people. They are the descendants. This goes for Elizabeth, especially.
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney & Jerry Bruckheimer. Jack Sparrow and Davy Jones belong to them. BUT! D.A.V.Y. belongs to me. HAHA.
xxx
"Gibbs, I'm infatuated."
"Ah? Well, that's good. T'least ye won't be cheating on anymore women."
"No, no. It's not with a woman, Gibbs."
"I know ye lean both ways, Jack. What'sa matter?"
"He's a robot, Gibbs. He's made of clockwork and metal and doesn't have a heart."
No. I can't possibly tell him that, can I?
xxx
D.A.V.Y.
Dark Android Vexing Youths.
That was what they called him.
That was his name…
xxx
I'm not very good with women. They're very emotional and very difficult to maintain, like newborn children. Ye must always give them what they want; otherwise ye'd get a slap in the face. Ye must never cheat on them, but when someone flirts with them, ye mustn't get angry, unless he begins to feel up her skirt. Ye mustn't touch them in places unless they let ye, but they can freely roam yer body like an explorer. Plus, when they have emotional breakdowns, ye should be there for her – as a loyal boyfriend, savvy?
I couldn't quite understand, therefore, when Elizabeth, funny little woman she was, burst into my home (not really a home – just a place I bunk with one of my caretakers, Mr. Gibbs) and began to sob. I rose an eyebrow, certainly, she would've run to William – little bugger he was – yet here she was, in my arms, sobbing and crying and getting my dress shirt wet. I cringed inwardly: Gibbs would kill me for that.
"Miss Swann," I started, absentmindedly waving my hands in the air; watching as Elizabeth continued to break down with her arms around my neck and her face pressed to my chest. "I suggest ye tell me what's wrong, otherwise I'll just get ye some rum to go." The way I spoke was peculiar, Gibbs said. But he spoke the same way – and therefore told me that perhaps we were descendants of pirates from the past, and that the accent and the peculiar love for the sea came from them. Funny, I thought to myself. Captain Jack Sparrow. I liked the sound of that name, though the thought of it was difficult to comprehend. Then again, it had such a lovely ring…
…and unfortunately, I have gone off-topic.
"No, Jack! Oh, Jack!" Elizabeth's make-up was effectively running, and I wondered briefly what sort of woman she was descended from. Probably a very stupid one, I thought to myself with some sort of smile. Elizabeth wasn't exactly my friend, no; I suppose that term is rather inappropriate. She was more of an acquaintance, or, preferably, my not-a-stranger, Elizabeth Swann.
My not-a-stranger began to wail again.
"Oh, Jack! I'm so scared!"
Oh! I've forgotten, haven't I, to tell ye what exactly was going on? Silly me. But at least I remembered – and that was without a single drop of rum. Elizabeth, apparently, had the capacity to be a successful genius. She was smart, as difficult as that was to understand, and she had the destiny of being great. But what scared Elizabeth was that she had no idea how she was to be great: was it marrying the strapping young bachelor William Turner, even when he thought that she was simply playing with him (Elizabeth was scared of falling in love, too)? Was it writing a book, when clearly we all know that she gets distracted by the many phone calls she receives in a single day? Was it drawing, despite the fact that she can barely draw a triangle? Elizabeth didn't know, and that was why she was so afraid. Her father was an important political figure, too, so he barely spent any time with her. Therefore, it was either me or William she ran to for a shoulder to cry on. I doubt she'd go to any of her woman friends – they were constantly jealous of her beauty, and her capacity to be a genius.
"It's a'right, darling," I replied, lightly patting her on the back. "Ye'll find yer purpose soon."
"Oh, Jack, it's not that!" she whined, flailing her arms around and effectively knocking off my hat. I grumbled. I liked my hat.
"I've found what I want to do, but it's oh-so difficult!" Elizabeth exclaimed, loud and clear and causing my ears to bleed a little. "I've decided to be an actress, Jack, an actress! But try-outs are tomorrow, and I can't do it all by myself, without anyone with me! Please, Jack, come with me? Come with me and help me?" She sounded like a puppy, ultimately. A whining puppy that wanted a treat without doing anything good for ye in the first place. However, knowing Elizabeth, if I said no, then she'd threaten to castrate me (I don't want to imagine her past male-friends, their members strewn across her living room floor). Then again, also knowing Elizabeth, she would've gone to William first to whine and cry on. What was I to say, then? I knew her well enough to not know what she was going to do, and that was just brilliantly unhelpful.
"Alright, alright," I said, finally, raising my arms in self defense – her own arms squeezing around my neck. A part of me wanted to know if my throat was shrinking. "I'll go with ye if ye quit bugging me, darling. Jacky has some things of his own to attend to, savvy?" Elizabeth giggled, then, a complete 360 from what was going on earlier; and this time hugged me without the intent to strangle me to get her way. Glorious Elizabeth with her magic barbarian-like strength. Perhaps, with my ancestors being pirates, hers was some kind of barbarian woman who liked to yell and threaten and wasn't afraid to kill.
Ugh. Scary women.
"Oh, yes, Jack! Yes! I'll meet you by the EITC Theater tomorrow at half-past noon, alright?" she said with a smile, turning around and skipping out of the room. To think that she probably went all the way here with her luxurious car (that floats! Her car bloody floats!) to just spend five to ten minutes crying and then asking and then getting what she wanted in the end. She could've just called me, with her phone being a video phone and all (Gibbs had just gotten us a video phone, as well), but instead she decided to see me in person.
Oh, and the EITC Theater.
It stood for Excellent Integration Throughout the Century.
They were known for their abilities to make people work together and make things beautiful. Things like that.
The East India Trading Company disappeared long ago.
I shivered a little.
The women there were barbarians, too. No wonder Elizabeth chose that place.
xxx
The next day, I'd been woken up by cold water falling on me.
"Bloody 'ell! Someone call the co – " I paused, just as I moved to press the button on my wristband that called the police. It was Gibbs, and he didn't look happy. "Jack," he started, sighing. "It's eleven o'clock, and if I didn't hear ye right the day before, then ye best be gettin' yer ass hauled to the EITC Theater. What'd ye do all night, Jack? Drink as much rum as ye could then find a woman to dump the waste on?"
I snorted and got back under my covers. "Bah humbug. Elizabeth's 'onna be late, 'nyway. Lemme go to sleep, Gibbs," I mumbled, not minding whether the bed was cold and soaking and I was probably going to get hypothermia. But Gibbs was one for superstition, and believed that hell hath no fury like a woman's. So naturally, he pushed me out and yelled at me until I got to listen.
God, that man is a miracle-worker.
By eleven thirty I was almost ready to go, having skipped breakfast and showering (I always skipped showering) to slap some clothes on me. They were normal, sort of, a dirtied white dress-shirt and poofy pants. Something like those Aladdin-people wore, actually, and it was funny when I struggled to put it on and keep its poofiness intact.
"Ye be off already?" Gibbs asked and laughed, watching as I struggled to put a boot on. "Ye best bring a coat, Jack. It's freezing out there, and as much as ye annoy me, a Jacksicle isn't something I want in the middle of town." He was teasing me, as usual, and I grinned, finally getting my boot on and taking the coat with me as well. My lucky compass was in its pocket, and a pack of peanuts just in case I got hungry was in the other one.
"Aye, Gibbs. Be makin' sure I won't freeze to death. I want to die by ye screaming into my ear and making my brain explode."
I left the house with Gibbs yelling playful curses at me.
It was indeed freezing, and I was thankful for following the more-experienced man's orders. I'd called a cab, then, one of those regular-cars from the past time before the Great Tsunami had wreaked havoc over the world. The Great Tsunami was the reason technology was so strengthened, because things were destroyed and it was difficult to keep reproducing humans to help with the re-building. So we began with Artificial Intelligence, robots. The first robot to have ever helped us humans were the drivers, the ones who got to take workers back-and-forth in record time. These drivers had no heads and were a rectangular prism shaped, and had a coin slot to get them to drive. That was what my driver looked like. I put a coin in and waited for it to start moving.
"Oi. Ye a'right there, mate?"
I nearly forgot that I was talking to a rectangle-shaped robot without a head. Aye, I was very smart. But the robot wasn't moving. It was just sitting there, in front of the steering wheel, looking like a silver-colored box.
I whacked it with my fist, and it began to move.
I grumbled something about robots being unable to replace real people, and leaned back in my seat as the cab began to move.
xxx
"Oh, Jack! You're here! Oh Jack! Oh Jack!"
Elizabeth was beautiful, as usual, make-up on (one of those metallic-looking ones, I suppose) and hair long and brushed and a nice little dress hugging all the curves she had. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't attracted – even by a little – because she was dashing. She looked the part, certainly, the pretty English woman who was tired of the world. God, how I wished I could've been the same way, looking my parts. But, no, the only one I'd be qualified to act as is me. I'm not an actor. I'm a living, breathing original.
Elizabeth ran towards me, giving me another one of those bone-crushing, barbarian hugs and resisting the urge to cry again. Gibbs had scolded me for my make-up stained dress shirt, but now that I wore a slightly-dirty one, I doubt it even mattered anymore. "Oh Jack, you came…" her voice trailed off for a moment, and I, at a loss for any of my charming words, decided to pat her on the back. "I'm so scared, Jack. So scared. What if they don't like me? What if I forget my lines? Oh, what if I soil myself, Jack? What would happen then? Or… or what if the Great Tsunami happens again!?" she practically screamed, and I grimaced, once more patting her on the back.
The only reason I put up with Elizabeth was mostly because Gibbs told me that she'd teach me responsibility. The fact that she was like a three year old (which only added to her charm, I suppose) made him notice that if ever I spent time with her, I'd have to act like an adult. Ugh. Adult. Plus, she was rich, and bought me rum if I made her happy. Rum is good.
"It's alright, Elizabeth. I doubt the Tsunami would occur again, darling. They should like ye, since ye're tryin' yer best. As for yer lines, ye practiced, aye? No problem 'ere. And if ye soil yerself, then ye should best remember to wear a diaper."
Honestly, I wanted to backhand slap her. But I couldn't, since she was, after all, my not-a-stranger. And she was rich, and bought me rum. And again, rum is very good. No Elizabeth meant no money. No money meant no rum. And no rum meant…
Double ugh.
"You're right, Jack. I should try my best… I should just not worry, but… but what if I-?"
"Excuse me?"
Elizabeth turned her head to look at the one who called her, an apparent eccentric with a glass eye. He had a friend, too, with a scraggly beard. I contorted my face muscles to make my nose move upward a little in some sort of twitch. Strange people in this world, I'm sure.
"Are you… one of those robots?" asked the one with the glass eye, and Elizabeth frowned. "No," she said, letting go of me and letting those dark eyes of hers burn fear into the two men. "I'm not a robot."
Barbarian woman-time. Eckh.
"Are you sure?" asked the one with the scraggly beard, eyes kind of creepy as they looked at her. Elizabeth was gritting her teeth, now.
"Mate, I-"
I was cut-off when Elizabeth began to shout and curse them. She had quite a tongue, lashing out at them like some kind of magic Elizabethian whip. This was why I kept quiet and simply went along with them. Those words could burn real bad.
Just as he finished, the two men looked like they saw ghosts; and immediately ran with their tails behind their legs. Figuratively speaking, of course.
"Elizabeth, er, ye know ye didn't 'ave to do it that bad, aye?" I asked, a bit afraid whether the woman would lash out at me next. Elizabeth pouted, looking back at me. "They deserve it! Mistaking me for a robot," she stated, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. Her happy mood was quickly diminished, I realized with a small smile. Funny how she could suddenly be so independent after something like that.
"But, darling, how'd they imagine ye o' all people to be a robot? Those metal men are… rectangular, aren't they?" I continued, making the shape with my hands gesturing wildly in the air. Elizabeth snorted, nose in the air and eyes closed. "There're new models, Jack," she started with a frown. "Some sort of human-looking model... with metal skin, of course. One of them is performing here, in fact. In the lobby, the one named D.A.V.Y. is playing the grand piano. He's actually very good, but he's anything but human. It's practically seen in his looks."
I blinked, and then watched as she stormed towards the backdoor for tryouts. Apparently, she'd forgotten that I was to accompany her. I wasn't complaining, however, due to the fact that now I'd be able to see this D.A.V.Y. myself without anyone tugging on my arm and saying 'Oh, Jack!' more than humanly possible in a minute.
So I swaggered into the lobby, and was met with a large crowd of people, awed and surprised and staring at the lone figure playing the piano. I wrinkled my nose, pushing through before I finally got to the front.
Then I saw him.
He was strange looking. They said that he was modeled after a man of legend, Davy Jones. That was why he was named D.A.V.Y.. Dark Android Vexing Youths. They said that Davy Jones confused people, that he tricked people into getting them to owe him their souls, and therefore sending them to Davy Jones' Locker. They said they modeled the android after him. They said that D.A.V.Y. was his name.
It.
I'm sorry, he's an it.
Its skin was some kind of light emerald color, silver-emerald, so to say. Its hair… well, it didn't have hair. It had some kind of sac thing hanging out of the hat that it wore, and there were tentacles on its chin. Not really tentacles, per se, but more of metallic, moving things that it used to play the piano like no human would be able to. I was alerted to the crab's claw it had for an arm, and more tentacles replacing its other hand. It was a disturbing sight, but it was difficult for me to tear my eyes off of it. I know robots can't sweat, can't secrete liquid like humans can.
But it smelled like the sea.
It looked like the sea.
It was probably the sea.
But it was named 'dark' for a reason.
It looked… sad, so to say.
I knew the song he was playing. I'd heard it before, in one of these lockets in Antique Stores. It was the lullaby of Davy Jones and Calypso. Their ethereal love, messed up, and fated never to occur again. Ten years of waiting, Davy Jones had gone through, and when the day finally came, Calypso was nowhere to be found. That was what the woman said, with her long dreadlocks and her dark skin and those circles under her eyes. Kohl. I wore kohl, too. They said pirates wore it to protect themselves from the sun.
D.A.V.Y. was sad, and he was playing a song about lost love.
I pushed forward, and I stared – and I watched as his tentacles moved across the keys and played like nobody I'd ever seen before. There was a brief pang in my chest, and I felt my throat catch in my mouth. I'd never felt sympathy before. But here was a robot, playing the piano, and I -
I ran away when it lifted its head to look at me.
Those blue clockwork eyes were too much to bear.
xxx
I was sick.
I was kneeling in front of the porcelain throne and retching my guts out, unable to stop. The sight was disturbing, but the smell and the mere aura it – no, he – let out was mesmerizing. Gibbs said I was in love with the sea. What if he was the sea? That'd mean I'd be in love with a robot. I'd be in love with a bloody robot for the love of all things sane. When I finally got myself to calm down, I flushed – washed my hands, my face – and ended up taking a shower instead. I needed to wash myself clean. Then, I'd get the rum.
Once finished, I walked out with a towel around my waist; and immediately saw the note left on the counter table beside the bathroom door. "A note," I said out-loud, not caring that it was probably the most obvious thing in the world. I picked it up and read and found out that Gibbs would be out for a few days. Family matters, he said. I almost forgot that he had a mother and father and sister waiting for him.
I realized I'd be alone then, and slid to the floor, hands pressed against the side of my head.
And I laughed with a towel around my waist.
I laughed 'til I cried out of the pain, 'til I found myself tired and not wanting to laugh anymore. But I kept laughing, and when I finally stopped it was because I'd laughed myself to sleep.
I dreamt of the sea that night.
I was obsessed.
Gibbs, I'm infatuated with a robot…
I'd forgotten about Elizabeth that same day.