Returnable

A

Pirates of the Caribbean

Tale

            Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters from the movie. However, any helpless town folk scurrying around, a ship or two and anything that isn't in the movie: it's mine. Back off. Liska is my own creation so please respect that.

            Summary: Barbossa was shot and killed by Jack Sparrow. He should, by all means, be gone and done with, yet because of the curse, a mix-up occurred in Heaven, Hell, and Fiddler's Green. He's now a 'returnable', trying to find the answer to a question. Yet first, he has to discover what the question is in order to have it answered.

            Other: Hey, Softbrush here! The proceeding chapter takes place during the last scene of the movie, in the cave in Muerta. Right when Barbossa's shot, really. I hope your enjoying the story so far, cause I'm damn well enjoying writing it.

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That Was Then

That was then. The days that I hadn't been cursed. The days that I had visited Liska. The days I felt warmth, or pain, or feeling at all. The days were gone, and mine seemed to be numbered.

The gun went off and I hadn't even seen it coming. I felt a soft burning sensation overcome my body and I stared at Jack Sparrow as it disappeared.

"Ye carried that pistol ten years and you waste y'er shot?" I mocked him, feeling a grin twitch at my lips.

"He didn't waste it!" The whelp Bootstrap Bill Turner's son William called out to me. I turned to look at him and my eyes widened in realization. The golden medallion landed with the others, making clinking sounds like glass breaking. The fiery feeling suddenly shook my entire mass and I felt pain: Horrible wrathful pain in my chest and arms and everywhere else.

A thought flickered across my mind. Liska. Oh no, not now, not when the curse was lifted. I could go back to her now! I could, I could…I couldn't die now…Not when she might still remember me. I had only visited her twice when I was cursed, and she had seen my true form. She had shrieked once but then went calm. She had believed in me and my power to get the curse lifted. I couldn't die now…

The fire died and dulled. An odd shiver wracked my frame and I felt the gun in my gloved left hand go limp. The sword in my other hand fell and clattered on the ground. I looked down and tore my shirt open, starring in curiosity as blood gushed forth in a never-ending stream, staining the cloth. My hand dove into the pocket where I had an apple ready to be eaten once the curse was lifted. I took it out and let it dangle at my side.

"I feel…" I said, originally meaning to just exclaim I could feel again. I felt the smooth, slightly chilled skin of the apple, the pain in my chest, the blood trickling down my skin. Then the pain was washed away and the nothingness returned. A cold shiver wracked my body but I couldn't bring myself to shiver or budge.

"Cold," and my breath left me for good. I felt myself falling and remembered the drunken night with Liska before my hat had fallen over my eyes and we kissed. The apple fell from my limp hand as I landed on the treasure littered hill behind me.

Yet nothing went black. I saw no light, nor darkness, yet the clear coloured picture I always saw. There was a black line around my vision, but I still saw. I knew I wasn't breathing, and I couldn't feel the cold or pain any more.

I wasn't dead? I should have been…my heart had been the target hit so surely I was dead! But I saw. I watched as Sparrow, Turner and Miss Swann conversed, Jack fiddling and collecting treasure and gold, Will and Elizabeth ogling at each other.

I tried to open my mouth and say I wasn't dead, to please kill me because I couldn't stand the confusion and hurt, yet to save me because I needed to see Liska and…and then they left.

Perhaps an hour went by and I continued to scream out, not moving or making any sound. My body wasn't working, and I wasn't breathing. The apple was floating in the water and I noticed Jack the monkey swimming through the water. He was ragged for breath yet leapt upon the stone chest. He screeched and I suddenly heard the familiar sounds of bones cracking and clothes being mutilated, rotting at a fast pace. He had picked up a gold coin, the stupid beast.

He left the cave then and I was once again alone. Thoughts raced through my head. Was this Hell? It was indeed torture, not being able to do anything or feel anything…yet where was the fire? The brimstone? The smiting of those foul beasts that dared call themselves human? Was it possibly heaven? Or Fiddler's Green? I kept thinking, I'm sorry Liska, I'm so sorry…Over and over.

Time flew by me and all at once I began to feel lighter. I felt the pain in my chest and groaned quietly, actually making sound. I slowly stirred and sat up, the pain suddenly gone and replaced with a feeling of warmth and…life.

"Apologies, captain Barbossa. I hadn't meant to be so late…"

I looked up and nearly fell back again. My gaze was that of someone dressed entirely in a black and heavily folded cloak, their hood draping over their face so I couldn't see. The voice was not male nor female, yet had a chill to it that was warm. Both hands were folded behind their back.

"What…?" I asked. It was all I could think of to say. The cloaked man (I presumed) gave a breath of laughter before pointing behind me. His hand was…just bone. Nothing else. No muscle, skin or blood, but yellowy ivory bone, like aged silk. Had I not seen it every night for the past ten years I would have been startled.

Slowly I turned my head and I felt the feeling of shock course through me. I was looking at my still, dead body; the bullet hole caked with dried black and wet red blood. I felt an odd feeling in my throat, like I was about to throw up. How could it be I was looking at myself and not in a mirror?

"I am Officer G. Reaper, however most call me Grim. I'm also known as Death, Soul-Stealer and sometimes people confuse me with Satan. However, I merely collect the souls of the dead and herd them to their rightful place. Which is," he held an index bone up to silence me, as my mouth had opened to question him, "Why I am here."

So I was dead. Fantabulous. I really was dead…yet he said he was here to collect my soul? Was that what I had become? A drifting soul? I sat up properly and felt lighter then usual, lighter then the last time I had felt my weight when I moved.

"There was a mix up," Grim said. He sighed and shook his head, once again clasping his bony hands behind his back. He raised his head and if the hood had not shadowed it I would have sworn he was starring right into my eyes.

"You see, Captain Barbossa, it appears there was a terrible mix up. Supposedly, you've been registered dead for the past ten years. However, you've also been registered as alive." Here he paused and I suppose he did it to keep my attention. Well, he hadn't needed to.

"Yet a few hours ago you were whipped off of the dead list and stayed on the alive list. However, another minute passed by and you appeared on the dead list, once again. However, it appears that we cannot welcome you into Heaven or Hell, or Fiddler's Green just yet. Your name appeared on another list, yet."

I felt my jaw slacken. They kept lists? After a moment of carefully running his words through my head, I nodded. I understood yet didn't at the same time. Why was there a mix up? Couldn't he see my dead body just behind me?

"It appears…you are a Returnable," Grim said, taking his hands from behind his back and folding them together inside his sleeves.

"I'm a…I'm a what, did you say exactly? Returnable?" I asked, maybe a little exasperatedly. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'returnable' but it must have been important for it to cause a mix up in…the afterlife. Thinking that even sounded odd to me then.

"Yes, Captain Barbossa, I called you a Returnable, as that is what you are. A Returnable," he quoted, and I started. Had he managed to guess what I was thinking?

"What is it? I mean, it, a returnable?" I questioned quietly, tilting my head slightly to the right and nearly jumping as I felt my earring touch my neck.

"Returnable, Returnable," he said in a correcting tone, as though sensing that I hadn't any intention to capitalize the word. "It means you aren't supposed to serve your time in the afterlife yet."

He shook his head and rolled his shoulders back with much noise of cracking bones. I didn't stir but figured I should have as he turned his head to me and tilted it at an odd angle.

"Not to worry though, Captain, as most people who become Returnables don't understand it at first either. Not to worry, now."

"So, what it is then? What is a 'Returnable? I come back to life or something? Or do I become a spirit, a ghost?"

Grim chuckled and lowered his hood. His head was a skull, and empty eye sockets forced me to wince ever so slightly. I had expected perhaps something a little more, yet my expectations were not met, in a most gruesome way. His mouth was slightly curved, made of ivory white teeth placed in a never-ending grin.

"Not at all. You are indeed dead and it was perfectly fine by authorities. However, you didn't, ah, do something before you died…"

I found myself diving further into confusion. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. I was supposed to be dead, yet I had been on three lists, all saying different things. Then I was being told I was a 'Returnable', which at that point I didn't know what was.

"And, pray tell, what exactly was that, eh, Grim?"

He ignored my question however, and merely waved his left hand. His knuckles cracked sickeningly as did his other bones as he moved. He seemed to take a few steps towards me and through the water, yet he more or less levitated, and his cloak did not even become damp.

"Do you have a favourite animal, Captain Barbossa?" he inquired politely, clasping his hands behind his back once again. I thought for a moment and shook my head. Sure I had had a few pets as a child, and a monkey named Jack through out a few years portion of my adult life. Yet I didn't really favour a beast over another.

"Excellent! Simply superb!" Grim exclaimed, drawing a scythe that seemed to grow out of his very sleeve as he tugged at it. The blade was viscously sharp and curved, and gleamed strangely in the moonlight that cast upon it. He whirled it once in his hands, one whirl per finger and pointed it at me.

"You've got a question that needs to be answered, mate," he said slyly, and I felt myself feel an incredible amount of pain yet comfort at the same time. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off my chest, yet another one, even heavier had been slammed down and shattered my ribs and collapsed my lungs…

I tried to yell out but my voice had gotten lost in my throat, and I only made a retching sound. The last thing that happened to me then and there was that Officer G. Reaper said "Goodbye, pleasant nights and what not!" before I found myself in the black oblivion of unconsciousness.