It was silent…eerily silent. James was rather used to quiet after being stuck in the Locker for god-knows how long. He stood in the large cabin, listening to the occasional creak of the wood, not wanting to admit he was too afraid to leave the cabin and look up, to see that they were fully submerged underwater.
Yes, that's right…they were on the Flying Dutchman.
A shudder ran through him at the thought. What had happened? He had been a proud, happy naval officer. A new Lieutenant, offered a position on one of the ships journeying to the Caribbean, to help establish the new port. He had plans, big plans! Plans that would surely make his father proud of him after everything…He'd rid the seas of pirates, he'd marry a fine young woman, have a family, work his way up until he was admiral like his father! Such big plans, and he was so sure he could carry them out. Indeed things looked to be shaping up nicely. Port Royal was coming along fine, he was working with wonderful men and as a freshly minted Commodore he proposed to the Governor's daughter….
It had been so close…so damn close. Right at the edge of his fingers. And then just like that the rope slipped, and he tried to grasp it back, he tried so hard! At one point he thought he'd fastened it tightly again, Elizabeth had agreed to marry him. Yet he should have known…he guessed her heart wasn't really in it. But she assured him it was, she promised him!
James clenched his jaw and gripped the edge of the desk, staring down at the grains in the wood and feeling something start to squeeze him from inside.
It had all gone downhill from there. After letting Sparrow escape to please Elizabeth and her new fiancé, he chased the pirate mercilessly. Foolishly. They went through a hurricane. He'd lost all his men, and the ship…and resigned as Commodore. He spent his time in Tortuga drinking himself sick—for rum never agreed with him—trying to forget about everything he'd lost. And he thought nothing could be as bad as this. But it got far, far worse.
James didn't want to recall, but the memories flashed through his head clear as day and he couldn't stop them. Signing up for Jack's crew, stealing the heart, earning a place with Beckett back in the navy. He thought he'd done it, he thought he'd gotten his life back! But he'd been so, so wrong…
His pride and joy, the British Navy was corrupted by Cutler Beckett. That man was worse than any pirate James knew of. He had everyone underneath his thumb, and whoever found out a little too much or stopped being useful, was eliminated at once.
James found it out the hard way, after losing his dear friend Weatherby Swann. Yet he only found out after running into Elizabeth on the Flying Dutchman—the very ship under his feet. Suddenly it all started to click and James had felt himself start to crumble as everything he'd hoped in believed in was soured. Suddenly there was no black and white.
And so he'd let Elizabeth and her crew free, knowing he would never have her, that his father would be ashamed of him, that he was worthless and he'd trusted in—believed in—a lie of Beckett's.
James ran a hand gingerly against his stomach, knowing there was a thick, ugly scar underneath his clothes that haunted him and reminded him of everything. He just…he just wanted to forget!
But the Locker had reminded him, everyday, every moment. And now…Now he was Captain of a pirate ship, going out to seek revenge on the man who had stolen Elizabeth from him and then had the audacity to abandon his post as Captain.
James hardly recognised himself. This wasn't the excited, optimistic Lieutenant who had left England…this man was bitter and angry. In fact…James didn't want to recognise himself. That Lieutenant was gone—killed—along with the Commodore and all his hopes and dreams. Why did he need to keep acting and thinking like that same man? He had no dreams. He had nothing! Which meant he had nothing to lose…only things to gain. He would take back what was his.
"It was all stolen from me." He spat, green eyes flaming like a forest on fire. His gaze set on the charts on the desk in front of him, mapping out the seas and the routes below the ocean surface. Marked with a red X was the place they were headed. His fingers curled tightly on the edge of the wood. "You stole from me, William Turner! You stole everything that should have been mine! And you will pay… you will pay a heavy price."
All the bitterness, the venom that had been held deep down for so long poured out of the former officer in a tidal wave. The cold, blackness that squeezed his heart engulfed him.