Title: Hell
Rated: M
Author: finalflowers
Summary: Could he be walking to something? Well, that was a stupid question. Obviously, if he was putting one foot in front of the other, he was walking towards something. What he meant to ask was what was he walking too? Heaven? Silly, pirates cannot go to heaven.
Hell? More appropriate.
Warning: Angst, Romance, Dreams
Notes: This story was different. I remember I wrote it years ago when I was in college, before At World's End came out. I sat on it for a long, long time, afraid of posting it. When I did, it didn't get a lot of traction- I did not even post it on . But I re-read it recently and decided that I liked it. So, I hope you guys do too!
_
Chapter One: Death
A tentacle flashed by him, he took his sword and sliced it through the water. It didn't go as quick as he would want it to, but he managed to slice up the monster good enough that the tentacle swooshed by him again. It retreated to the giant mass of monster in the water, hearing that screechy wail of pain that came from it. He kicked his powerful legs up and tried to get to the surface - he needed air, if he was going to keep fighting.
It seemed to take forever, and his muscles ached from the exertion. His lungs burned, but he fortunately managed to break the surface of the water and take greedy gulps of air. He wanted to rest, needed to rest, but he felt the water churn under him. Three of those blasted tentacles came up in the air, and with speed, started coming down the water, where he was.
He quickly took another breathe and dove into the water. With a newfound strength, he kicked his legs. He cursed to himself in his mind, he dropped his sword, and it was going down too fast for him to catch. He kicked up a little, and dodge one tentacle, only to get hit from behind by another one. He black out for a second but came to and swam as fast as he could away from the creature.
He was stopped and looked down at his feet. They vile creature got him, and he had no sword or knife to cut himself free! His gun? It'd be waterlogged by now...
... he was going to die.
The tentacle, as if it was making a big show, slowly crept up his body, crushing him as he went along. He felt his legs snap, know they were broken now, and his stomach now felt like it ruptured. Even if he managed to escape now, it would only be minutes until he was dead from the damage.
It was time to accept it. He was going to die.
He exhaled his last breath of air, let his arms go down to his sides, and closed his eyes.
With a sickening crack, Captain Jack Sparrow's ribs were broken, and the next moment he was dead.
Jack found himself at the bottom of stairs- very steep, very high stairs. Besides him and the stairs, colored white, everything else was black and it looked like he had nowhere to go. So, up the stairs he went, counting along the way.
He tried to recall what me remembered. His name- Captain Jack Sparrow. And he could count!
15... 16... 17... 18...He scratched his beard... he knew what that was! Alright... let's see what else.
23... 24...25...26...
26! He was 26 when he first got the Pearl. And... what was the Pearl again?
34...35...36... 37...
Oh, right. The Black Pearl. It was a ship, and he named it the Black Pearl because it was black and it was the pearl in his life... hence the name, Black Pearl. He remembered it being the most important thing in his life... then it wasn't. Why was that?
56...57...58...
He couldn't seem to remember. Oh well, it must not have been important... or was it, and he just chose to ignore it? Jack heard that people did that sometimes... why, Mr. Gibbs never remembers how his wife died, just that one morning she was there and the next gone! Jack didn't have the heart to tell his mate that his wife died in childbirth... wait! Mate! Mr. Gibbs was his first mate! Hah, another thing in his blank life filled.
Hmmm...
78... 79... 80...
What else had happened? He was Captain of the Black Pearl, so he must know about sailing, so he must have been out at sea at one point. That was obvious. And since he was Captain, and had a first mate, he had a crew. Where were they all? Jack knew he had some...
97... 98...99... 100...101...
Shouldn't he be tired by now? He didn't feel tired, not at all. Usually, walking up a hundred or more steps made you short-winded... but Jack wasn't gasping for air. In fact, he wasn't breathing at all...
... you couldn't breathe under water. Jack knows, he's tried. But he almost drowned. Drowning... he drowned! What the- how the hell did he end up here, climbing these so far 134 steps?
135... 136... 137...
Could he be walking to something? Well, that was a stupid question. Obviously, if he was putting one foot in front of the other, he was walking towards something. What he meant to ask was what was he walking too? Heaven? Silly, pirates cannot go to heaven.
Hell? More appropriate.
156... 157... 158...
So, he died. Huh. That was very interesting.
Jack took a second and paused, thinking back. How did he die? He drowned; he was sure. He remembered the cold feeling of water being pushed into his body. Something was crushing him... he could still feel the vice, tightening, around his chest. He continued to walk up the steps, hoping that maybe he could walk out of the death grip.
He still felt it. Did he try to swim away? At first, he was sure. But he remembered hearing something snap and being in pain. And he gave up. Did he really travel willingly to the depths? Maybe he fought too long, too hard.
How did he get there in the first place?
167... 168... 169...
There were a lot of stairs.
173... 174... 175... 176...177...
Jack hoped there was something rewarding after this walk.
179... 180... 181... 182...
Wasn't there a girl? On the Pearl?
Was her name Ana Maria? No, no, no. Not Ana Maria. She left a while ago, Jack helped her commandeer a ship and she sailed off. What could be her name? He remembered her... she was golden. Like a goddess.
Why was she like a goddess?
Was it important? She was just there… there and absolutely… just…
It was abnormal for him to react in such a way – over a woman, no less! Sure, she was attractive. But put a mole faced, overweight bar maid on a ship full of sailors and within a week she'd be attractive. No, no, there must have been something else about her… something that would cause him to react in such a way.
What was her name?
193... 194...195...196...
Elizabeth. Elizabeth Swann. That was what her name was. And she was important to him.
How was she important to him? She must be important... Jack remembered having her on his brain for... almost a year? Was that right? Damn, what did she do (or not do) that made Jack think of her almost constantly?
197...198...199...
Oh, that's right. He remembered dancing around a fire, a hopeful feeling in his gut, the cattiness of her tone as she talked him down. He remembered that she had looked up at him with those brown eyes and told him that he was the fearsome pirate in the whole Caribbean- nay, the whole world.
He fell in love with her.
200.
The step he was standing on came out from under him; a quiet portrayal of his life, really; and he gave a surprised yelp and began to fall down into the blackness.
No fair. He thought as he watched the stairs crumbled and fall around him in dust. I just climbed up 200 steps.