AN: Ok, so I was stuck for something to do and had 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables' from Les Miserables stuck in my head along with a healthy amount of Pirates of the Caribbean and this is what that unnatural combination led to.

I don't own them. Disney owns PotC and uh… someone… owns Les Mis, which I got my inspiration from… I only own this story… There is implied slash… though just a little, but I suppose if you really want to you can pretend there isn't, but it is supposed to be slash. No flames please. Thanks (yet again) to Willow for betaing… (And please go read her stuff…) REVIEW!!!! Please?

Nightmares

The darkness comes at night, and those faces call my name, telling me that I should be there, that I should be there in the darkness with them.

They plead and beg and catch my clothes, they scream my name and curse me for living. I see them in my dreams and in my mind all the time. They ask me why I am still living. They show me images of myself like them. They tell me my life is not worth living and they try their best to pull me down.

I can't stop their voices shrieking in my head, the voices of the cursed, who never had a chance. A clatter of bones echoes in my skull, and I can feel the rope around my neck once more.

Through it all I try to keep a hold on myself, on the little sanity I possess, I scream at them to let me be, to leave me alone and let me live. They tell me I should not have taken that coin, not even to beat Barbossa. They tell me I should have died in that cave, that it should have been my tomb forever.

Sometimes I think they're right. Sometimes I long to give it all up and fling myself overboard. I want to drown myself so I will hear their screams no more. But I know that even if I did that I would not be free. If I died their torment would last forever, their taunts would be my funeral song and their shades would dance upon my watery grave.

In amongst these apparitions are the faces of those I knew. Bill Turner's face accuses me. He silently points a finger and I know what he means. It is my fault they are here, my fault for every one of them. I should be there instead of them and yet I live, when they are gone. I am to blame and my life should forfeit for theirs, and yet I go on living, but now my life seems like Hell.

As I sail across the sea, on the ship that has always felt more like home than anywhere else I know, their accusations fall heavy on my ears and even rum won't block them out. It turns stale in my mouth and the Pearl just moves ever onward.

Nothing seems to stop these dreams and they gradually get worse. They call me in the daylight now, pulling me into their world, into the land of nightmares, calling me and beckoning me to join the cursed. I try to stay awake; I try to keep myself out of this place, away from this world, alive and myself still. But I tire easily and they slip into my mind through cracks I can't even find. They pull me into unconsciousness and drag me down again, clawing at me with their skeletal hands and holding me down, no matter how I struggle.

Their calls grate on my ears, their strength wearies me and I fight for every breath. They begin to win the battle. I am close to surrender, I am close to death and any escape attempt seems more and more futile. My attempts to free myself from their death grips, my struggles just get me further and further down and I begin to see what they mean. I have no right to life; I deserved death- I am death…

But as I surrender my soul to them I can hear something other than their voices, feel something other than their decayed skin. Warmth and a voice that sounds familiar, but I can't place. The darkness surrounds me still but the shadows cower and I can make out the words.

"Come on Jack… open your eyes…"

My eyes are open, I know they are, but everywhere I see only death and turmoil, I hear only screams of pain. Pain that I sentenced these souls to. The warmth, before only a distant sensation, comes closer, heating me up and I feel arms holding me up and warm air across my cheek. I can no longer feel the hands pawing at me, there is nothing pulling me down. Instead there are strong arms hauling me up, and that voice still talking in my ear.

"Jack… don't give up… Jack… please, just open your eyes…"

And all at once the shadows are gone, the voices banished from my mind and I can feel my eyelids flutter slightly and liquid being dribbled into my mouth.

Rum…

I swallow, grateful that it tastes like it always used to. And then my eyes open fully and I suddenly think that maybe I did die. Or maybe I'm still unconscious, because Will is there, whispering in my ear, holding me as though he's never going to let go.

"Come on Jack…"

I pull back slightly in his arms.

"Tha's Captain Jack Sparrow… Captain Jack Sparrow." I murmur, "And what do you mean 'give up'? I never give up!" I protest. He too pulls away and smiles, like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. Although his eyes seem kind of watery. "I just wait…"

"Till the opportune moment." He finishes his smile growing, if that was even possible.

"Precisely, luv." I say, my voice thick, though I can't tell why. "Now… where's the rum?"