Sitting on the floor of the laundry room, Michelle began to panic. She hadn't known that dying in the dryer world would bring her back to her normal one.
But was it her actual world?
Michelle didn't wait to find out. She knew that with every second that passed in her world, a much, much longer amount of time passed in the Pirates world. And because she had left Will battling Davy Jones, she wasn't willing to take any chances.
She flung open the dryer door and shoved her head in, panting in anxiety.
Nothing happened.
Michelle drew her head from the barely-dry load of clothes in the dryer, nearly frantic now.
What the hell am I supposed to--
She saw a sock on the ground.
She only stared at it for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity as thoughts flew through her mind.
What is that doing there? I'm sure it wasn't here before! There was a sock on the ground when the load first started, but Monica picked it up...that's when she opened the dryer...and then we were sucked through...so the dryer needs an article of clothing to be added to it to work...?
Michelle threw the sock in and dove in after it.
This time, she was relieved to see the light and feel herself flying upward.
She closed her eyes tightly, fighting off the swoon she was sure would come if she actually thought about what was happening to her. Only when the light seemed to dim from the other side of her eyelids and the whooshing seemed to die down did she open her eyes.
She managed to look down in time to see the deck of a ship flying up towards her.
Michelle threw out her arms for balance and landed, crouching down in a fluid movement. Her eyes wide, she remained still for a moment, waiting for the echo of the whooshing to leave her ears and for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
Yes, it was dark, she realized. Only a bit past twilight.
Rising slowly, she looked around, peering into the night. She knew she was on the deck of a ship by the few lanterns, the smell of the sea, and the heaving of the floor beneath her. But which ship was she on?
In her observations, Michelle had only taken in a few barrels before she heard voices.
She immediately darted behind the barrels, which shielded her from anyone who happened to walk by, keeping her hidden between them and the side of the ship.
Peeking between two of the barrels, she watched intently for the speakers, trying to steady her heavy breathing so they wouldn't hear her.
"Did you lock up the boy?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Did he put up a fight?"
A laugh from the second voice. "No, sir; not after what you did to him!"
"Aye, I thought not."
Michelle's eyes widened in horror as Davy Jones and one of the Flying Dutchman's crewmates lurched past, Jones clunking every other step with his peg leg, the other looking bizarre with the head of a hammerhead shark.
A hammerhead shark with eyes on either side of its head.
Michelle moved silently behind the biggest barrel, fearing that the eye closest to her would spot her. When she was crouched behind the barrel, she held a hand over her mouth to keep her from breathing too loudly.
"Did you get the heart back, Captain?" Hammerhead was asking.
"Not yet," Jones replied. "I haven't searched the boy yet...I want him to suffer."
"But Captain, if he doesn't have it--"
"We'll just keep looking!" Jones shouted, brandishing his crab arm menacingly.
Michelle watched as Hammerhead nodded and went upstairs to take over at the helm. Davy Jones, however, disappeared downstairs.
Michelle listened hard to make sure there was no one else coming before shifting to a more comfortable position behind the barrels, leaning against the side of the ship. This also gave her a slight view of the ship, giving her some warning if someone were to approach silently.
Think, she kept telling herself, but her mind seemed blank with fear. What could she possibly do to save Will against the crew of the Flying Dutchman?
Will. The thought of him, weak in a cell somewhere on the ship, made Michelle determined to take action.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to think--not of Davy Jones and his crew (and what they could do to her if they found her), but how she could save Will.
How can I possibly find him? Michelle wondered, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Locked in the brig...that's got to be below deck somewhere. But how am I supposed to get down there without being seen?
She could see the entryway that Jones had just walked through quite a ways down the ship.
Should I go down there? she found herself wondering, shifting into a more comfortable crouching position. What if he went down there to--hurt Will?
As soon as the thought of Will popped into her head, she immediately felt braver.
He may be Davy freaking Jones, but I've got talent, she thought determinatedly, feeling around at her sides for her swords.
After a moment of groping, she realized with slight panic that they weren't there. Looking down, Michelle discovered that she was back in her 21st century clothes--the ones she had been wearing when she had first been transported through the dryer.
She stared down at her orange University of Texas T-shirt and jean shorts, her mind blanking for a moment.
Great, no shoes! she thought, grimacing as she wiggled her toes to feel the wet deck beneath her.
Exhaling, Michelle stared at the entryway, carefully estimating the distance to it from her hiding place behind the barrels.
Okay, seems about 40 yards, she thought, her track runner's mind immediately coming into play. Not as much as I'd like; it's hard to get my momentum up...but I'm not on varsity track at UT for nothing...
She stretched her position, bringing her left leg back behind her and pulling her right up front. It was quite difficult in the small space she was in, but somehow she managed...perhaps it was her determination to save her friend.
Placing her hands on the deck, her fingers splayed slightly, she imagined the starter's voice...
On your mark, get set...
BANG!
Michelle bolted at the noise, terrified--that gunshot hadn't been in her head!
She sprinted toward the entryway, fear helping to lift her feet even farther on her already impressive long strides. As she neared the entryway, she saw Hammerhead racing down the stairs ahead of her, letting out a yell at seeing an eighteen-year-old girl running across the deck of the Flying Dutchman in extremely odd clothing. Well, odd to him, at least.
Eyes wide, she skidded to a halt, nearly falling as her bare feet slipped on the wet deck, and turned around, only to see another of the crewmembers coming up behind her.
She ran through the door, hearing the two bad guys close behind her, surprising her with their speed. She heard a sickening THUD and knew the two had slammed into each other while trying to follow her through the doorway.
Michelle stopped short as she entered the door, slamming herself up against the wall next to it.
When Hammerhead and his buddy followed, she slammed the former in the face with a barnacle-covered oar she had found, making him smack into the latter once again as his whole body was knocked back with the impact.
Michelle wasted no time in driving the oar into Hammerhead's stomach, pushing the two bad guys back out side. She gave the crusty oar another hard jab and the second sea-man was jammed into the side of the ship.
Michelle smacked Hammerhead in the side of the face, kocking him off to the right into a group of crates. She thrust the oar into the chest of the second guy, who yelled with surprise and toppled over backwards into the churning sea.
Michelle turned quickly and dashed back into the door, creeping carefully into the shadows. She knew Hammerhead was coming...
...and there he was. He came into the door, growling madly, eyes glaring into the dark room for the girl.
As he advanced further into the room, Michelle crept around behind him.
"Hey!" she said loudly. Hammerhead turned, growling viciously, drawing a sword.
"Look at my thumb," Michelle said, calmly giving him a thumbs-up.
Confused, Hammerhead glanced at her thumb.
Michelle slammed his head with the oar.
"Gee, you're dumb," she said, quite pleased with herself.
Cringing at the sound of the thud as the bad guy hit the ground, Michelle gripped the oar tighter and stepped over his body--but his hand shot out and siezed her ankle.
With a yank of his arm, Michelle fell to the ground, to surprised to make a noise. Hammerhead didn't loosen his grip on her leg, though he seemed quite disoriented by the oar to the face.
Fortunately, Michelle hadn't lost her hold on the oar, either.
With a grunt, she brought it over her head and managed to smack the guy hard in the stomach.
This did it--his hands flew to his stomach as he groaned, trying to grab the oar.
Michelle scrambled back, swung the oar around, and hit him in the head again.
This time, the SMACK she heard satisfied him that she was out cold.
Breathing hard, she stood up, leaning on the oar a bit for support. She experimentally poked the guy's shoulder, but there was no reaction.
Michelle wanted to celebrate at her victory over one of Davy Jones' crewmembers while she was armed only with an oar, but she knew she had to move on. Someone would have undoubtedly heard the little scuffle, and she still didn't know where the gunshot had come from.
She moved on, now feeling extremely paranoid. She tried to keep a firm grip on the oar, but her palms were sweaty, and the crusty barnacles had cut into her hands with every swing, sending little rivulets of blood trickling down her wrists.
At the next doorway, she stopped and waited beside the door, listening carefully. She didn't hear anything.
Wait...
Someone was coughing inside the next room.
Will! she thought automatically, but reason told her to wait and see if there was anyone else in the room.
Reason served her well.
She heard a thump and a step. And another. Thump-step, thump-step...
"Did you really think you could shoot me, Turner?" she heard Davy Jones say mockingly. "You cannot kill the sea!"
There was no reply from Will. Nearly panicking, Michelle peeked her head around the doorway.
Her blood ran cold as she made out Will's form lying on the ground in a cell. She nearly panicked as she thought of how hurt he could be. As she watched, Jones crouched down to Will's level.
"I will find that heart, Turner," he hissed. "And when I do, neither you nor your friends be left alive!"
"Well, here's one friend you haven't met yet."
Jones' head whipped around to see a young woman standing in the doorway, an elbow atop a barnacle-encrusted oar like it was some kind of giant, crusty pimp stick; the other placed confidently on her hip.
Jones simply stared at her. She would have been pleased if she weren't so freakin' scared.
She saw Will feebly try to lift his head from the ground, and this snapped her mind back to her goal.
But before she could do anything, Jones was rushing at her.
She instinctively swung the oar in front of her, ready to fight, but it didn't help much--Jones seized the thin rod of the oar in his claw hand and snapped it cleanly in half.
Not missing a beat, Michelle pulled her half of the oar out of the claw and brought it back, fully prepared to jab the squid-man in the stomach. But he surprised her with his incredible speed yet again.
He had thrown his claw around her neck, pushing her up against the wall and grabbing the oar half out of her hand as her eyes widened in shock and fear.
The last thing Michelle saw before she blacked out was Davy Jones' furious face, grimacing slightly as he tightened his grip around her throat.
Michelle awoke with a start, a sense of uneasiness that had building inside of her finally awakening her from her unconscious state. As her eyes snapped open, she looked around warily, remembering what had happened.
She sat up abruptly, wincing slightly as her head pounded. She brought a hand up to her throat and rubbed it gently. Luckily, she didn't feel any cuts from Jones' ragged claw.
Looking around, she saw that she was in a cell.
Perfect, she thought darkly. Some rescue mission.
Peering around her new inhabitance by the light of only a dim lantern, Michelle didn't see anything of interest. She couldn't help wondering what Jones had done with her oar--and if he had discovered that she had knocked one of his crewmates out and another of them overboard.
She heard a groan from the other side of the room. Cautiously, Michelle moved to the front of her cell to investigate.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the brig, she could just make out Will's form. Again.
"Will!" she said desperately.
Another groan. Stricken, Michelle held her breath, anxiously wrapping her hands around the bars of her cell.
"Michelle?" he asked, slowly getting up. It looked like a real effort. As he crawled to the front of his cell, which was opposite Michelle's, his face moved into the dull light.
Michelle gasped. There was a long, deep gash from tracing its way across the right side of his face from the bridge of his nose down to his jaw.
Will didn't seem to notice her concern. "Michelle! What--how did you--"
Michelle was confused for a moment, thinking he had seen some wound on her or something...but then she remembered that Will had seen her fatally stab herself.
"The dryer," she said simply, shrugging slightly. "But it doesn't matter--what did they do to you? Are you hurt very badly? Oh, of course you are, you're still bleeding--"
"Michelle, why are you here? And how are you not hurt?" Will asked anxiously.
Michelle smiled exasperatedly and realized that they wouldn't get anywhere if they didn't start answering each other's questions.
"Listen, I went through the dryer again, and I was unhurt," she began to explain hurriedly. "So I came back through again--"
"Why? You could've been safe!" Will exclaimed.
"I came back to save you!" Michelle said. "But...obviously that's not going so well..."
She sighed dejectedly and dropped her hands from the bars. "I can't do anything right," she said sadly. "I tried to help you find Davy Jones--I wanted to help you save your father...and all I've managed to do is get locked up. I'm useless."
"Don't say that," Will said gently. "You've saved me."
"What?" Michelle said dejectedly, giving a scoffing laugh.
"I needed to see you again," Will said. "When you stabbed yourself, I--"
He stopped short, as if saying this hurt him. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Michelle interrupted him.
"Don't," she said, smiling ruefully. "I know."
Will gazed intently at her for a moment. Then a grateful look began to spread across his face.
"Thanks," he said, and Michelle had to chuckle. Will wasn't much different from any man--he found it difficult to express his feelings.
Except with Elizabeth, a tiny voice said in Michelle's head.
He loves Elizabeth, Michelle thought, the voice of reason and balance much larger than that small one of envy and resentment.
Not you.
Damn that small voice!
Will was speaking. Michelle glanced up and focused on his voice.
"...and, forgive me for asking, but...what are you wearing?" he was saying.
Michelle flashed a grin at him and made the Longhorn sign with her hand. "Hook 'em horns?" she asked tentatively, bobbing her hand forward and back.
Will stared.
Michelle laughed at his bewildered face, but she was cut short by the sound of heavy, unbalanced steps coming toward the brig.
"Jones," Will breathed. Michelle left her place at the front of the cell and crept back into the darkness, staring at the evil captain as he entered the room.
Suddenly Michelle remembered.
The heart! she thought, alarmed. How could I have forgotten?
Because you were talking to Will, the little voice sneered in her mind.
Michelle pushed the thought away as Jones began to speak.
"No chance you'll tell me where you came from, is there, lass?" he said, stopping in front of her cell.
She just stared steadily up at him, somehow managing to act a lot more calm than she felt. How could he not notice how fast her heart was beating?
She cringed at the thought of her heart--well, any heart, actually.
"No?" Jones asked, his tentacles writhing unnervingly as he drew a set of keys from somewhere on his person with one of said tentacles. "What about that heart, miss; hmm?"
"Do you call it 'that' heart because you refuse to acknowledge that you have one?" Michelle replied evenly as Jones unlocked her cell.
Jones stopped dead. Michelle would have been pleased if she weren't so frightened--she had meant to catch him off guard.
"Tell me, why do you hide from it?" Michelle continued, forcing herself not to tremble. "Love, I mean. Could it really have been that bad? I mean, I've gotten my heart broken--to love someone and know they'll never return your feelings?" Her eyes flickered over to Will, but she looked back before she let herself lose her train of thought.
"I know it's no picnic, but how could you become...this?"
Jones hadn't moved, but his eyes had strayed away from Michelle's face, and she knew he was reminiscing, however unhappily. Behind him, Will was frozen, too, probably wondering what the hell she was doing.
"Would she have wanted you to become this?" Michelle asked softly.
At the mention of his former lover, Jones' eyes snapped back to Michelle, whose insides immediately curled--she had gone too far.
Sure enough, he hurled the door open and grabbed Michelle, hauling her to her feet.
"What are you doing?" Will asked, sounding startled at Jones' sudden movement. "Let her go!"
Jones slammed her against the wall of the cell with one strong arm. Michelle only had time for a short yell before he had punched her in the stomach and let her slide down to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.
"Where is the heart?!" he yelled, delivering a swift kick to Michelle's ribs with his peg-leg.
"I--don't know!" Michelle was able to choke out between gasps.
This seemed enough for Jones, who seized her again and dragged her out of her cell and in front of Will's, who was yelling at Jones to stop.
"She died once; perhaps she can do it again?" Jones said mockingly, dropping Michelle and letting her fall heavily to the floor.
"Tell me where the heart is!" Jones roared, stepping on Michelle's stomach with his peg-leg, making her yell with pain.
"Don't!" Michelle gasped. She knew that if Jones had his heart at last, he would kill the two of them.
But...would it be that bad?
"I dropped it!" Will yelled, making Jones stop in his mission of piercing a hole through Michelle with his fake leg. "I dropped it in the ocean when we were fighting--just please, leave her alone!"
Jones stared at Will for a moment, clearly trying to discern if he was lying or not. Finally, he lifted his leg from Michelle, making her gasp and roll over in relief, panting.
He seized her again, but this time only threw her into her cell, closing and locking the door as if nothing had happened. Michelle rolled into a corner, moaning slightly.
"If we don't find it, she dies," Jones said, his voice shaking with rage. And with that, he turned on his peg and left.
"Michelle!" Will yelled immediately.
"I'm fine," Michelle lied. She didn't want Will to know it, but she seriously thought Jones had cracked one or more of her ribs with his kick.
"Are you sure?" Michelle had to smile; hardly anything got by this guy.
"Yeah," she said lightly. "But the bastard ruined my shirt." This much was true; she was looking down at a tear in the stomach where he had dug his peg in.
Will chuckled and said, "Well, no matter what condition your shirt is in, we've got to get out of here."
"You're tellin' me," Michelle muttered. "As soon as they find the heart at the bottom of the ocean, they'll kill us."
"Oh, they won't find it," Will said, his eyes glinting in the light of the lantern. And as Michelle's jaw dropped, he drew Davy Jones' heart from inside his shirt.
