As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!
The Locker
I tapped my rook thoughtfully on its square in the chessboard. My eyes were unfocused as they looked over the position of all the pieces and my mind was running through the situations I was in. I refused to look at Jones those days, as we played chess in the mock-up of his quarters on the Flying Dutchman. He would try to get me to glance up at him, at least once every visit, but I did not want to see him if I could help it.
With a shake of my head, I brought myself back to the chess game and placed the rook on another square halfway up the board. "I'm going mad here, Jones."
I felt his eyes on me, and I knew I had his attention. I also avoided talking and debating with Davy Jones during his visits. "What do you want me to do about it? This was your agreement." He moved one of his knights.
I moved my bishop and lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, ignoring the writhing tentacles that made up his face. I tried to infuse as much of the underlying madness that I felt from the isolation I was in into my gaze. I couldn't tell if it had an effect on him, because his gaze back was devoid of any emotion. "Make me an offer, old man."
Jones stared at me for a long time before he finally slammed his queen down on the board. "Checkmate." With that he stood up and vanished, leaving me alone again until the next time he decided he was bored with tormenting the people that found their way to his ship.
* * * *
I wasn't sure how much time had passed since my last game with Jones. I had just lay myself down on the organ bench and started to count the barnacles on the ceiling for the millionth time when I heard a sudden crash and a shower of chess pieces rained down on me. Instinctively, I covered my face from the flying ebony and ivory pieces, and sat up when it stopped.
Jones was standing where the table once stood and was glaring at me. I looked around, confused at what happened, and then looked back at Jones. I could see his chest heaving under his coat with barely checked rage, and his tentacle beard was writhing with agitation. He took a shaky step towards me, and then stopped himself. I stood up and met his gaze.
Without a word, he turned around and waved his hand over the blank wall behind him before he turned back to face me. It started small at first, but quickly grew to the size of a port hole and then the size of a large window. I stepped closer, behind Jones, squinting at the bright light this new addition to the room added.
I wasn't sure what I was looking at, at first. The first thing that became clear was that it was a view of the open ocean. I felt my heart thump faster at that wonderful sight. But, the Locker isn't a forgiving place, and Jones is not a gracious man. Suddenly, my view of the ocean was blocked by a person that was as familiar to me as my own reflection.
The window was large enough that he was life-sized. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch those thick dreadlocks of his, pull him close and kiss his lips. My breath quickened this time, and caught in my throat.
"Jack…" I whispered. The name of my beloved Jack Sparrow seemed to echo in my ears, sounding more and more like a whimper each time I heard it. My lips tingled, as if they were parched and cracked and suddenly a sip of water reminded me that there was life in them yet. The tingling spread through my entire body until it became a cold lump in my stomach.
"So, it's true…"
I turned around and saw in Jones a pained expression that seemed alien on his face. I couldn't remember another time that he had looked like that. His voice and his expression threw me off guard. "What?"
The pain in his eyes was suddenly gone, and his mask of pure fury had slammed back into place. The new look in his eyes was one I knew clearly. I was being punished, and I wouldn't like it. Before my eyes, the mock window widened so that it circled me. It was as if I was standing in the middle of the events on the Pearl. I turned around, trying to see everything. I didn't notice as the furniture and organ faded into blackness.
Suddenly, Jones was behind me, his arm around my waist. He held me tight against him as he leaned down. "You are mine. You gave yourself to me to do with as I please," he whispered hoarsely in my ear.
I felt the tentacle that made up the index finger of his right hand slither down and stop just above my crotch. I stiffened, causing my back to press harder against him.
"W-what are you doing, Jones?" My voice was colored with panic. I never did do too well when I wasn't sure exactly what was happening and what caused it.
"Exercising me rights, Maren."
He shoved me forward, forcing me to look at the images floating in front of me. I watched as one of Jones' crewman held Jack's hand and touched his own palm to the Pearl's Captain's hand. I watched in horror as the Black Spot spread outward from the middle of Jack's palm.
"No… He never told me—"
"That he owes me a debt?"
I knew without looking the hate in his eyes, born of hurt, and focused on me. All the while, my eyes were focused on Jack, and the inevitable ending that this scene playing in front of me could be. I turned around to face Jones, and knew that I had fear and pleading in my own hazel eyes. "Don't do this… I'm begging you!"
"You are begging me?!" Jones' eyes held mine, and I saw it all; all his hate, all his love, all his pain, and all his pleasure. It all became clear to me in that one single moment in time. It was clear that I was the reason behind it all, that I was the cause of the emptiness in the man in front of me. "You will watch what I do to him. Watch, Maren; watch what I do! You said you were going mad; I will show you mad!"
He vanished from my sight, then. I looked up at the images he left for me, life-sized moving pictures and sounds of things that I could do nothing about. I watched as Jack sent the boy over to the Dutchman to "settle his debt." I watched as Jones told Jack that only one hundred souls would free him of his debt. Inwardly, I cheered when Jack hit a nerve in Jones when he told about the boy's engagement to some girl.
Each scene was only a few minutes long, but to watch them felt like an eternity with each one. They played over and over again in my head while new ones played before my eyes. I felt the sweat bead on my brow as the girl shackled Jack to his own mast. I felt the rage and hatred toward the girl as she kissed him. I began to understand Jones' anger.
I wasn't able to hold myself up anymore. I felt my mind shatter just as my knees hit the ground, and when she looked into his eyes after kissing him, and I saw her lust for him. His smile… Goddess, help me and help him…, I prayed. Watching intently, through a haze of self-inflicted insanity, I hoped that Jack would pull off one of his tricks and that he would be okay.
When Jones' pet spat out the mucus covered hat, I laughed hysterically, as if it was the funniest joke I had ever seen. I felt pride for my Jack as he took up a fighting stance against the monster and I felt my heart break when the beast devoured him.
The room filled with a primal scream, so loud I thought my ears would bleed. I didn't know the scream was my own until I felt the pain of a raw throat and my own blood and bile. It didn't stop me, though. I continued to scream as the images for my eyes disappeared and left me alone in the blackness. All the while the images in my mind played over again, as clear as what Jones had left me with. Each time I reached the end, I'd start screaming anew.
I now knew what true hell was.
