"Dad?" Danny shook his head, rubbing his temples. It couldn't be. The man he had called father had died mysteriously when he was three, leaving him alone until Mike and Nina had adopted him. He hadn't changed at all since the day they'd found him, still wearing his coast guard's uniform. There was still that slight tinge of metallic gray in the hair at his temples and the beard that Danny remembered so well. He had never quite realized how much he looked like his father.
"It's me." He opened up his arms as Danny lunged for him like a little boy greeting his father home. At the moment, lost and confused, Danny felt like a little boy and nothing would help more than his father's embrace. Ben Turner took his son into his arms, holding him tightly in a bear hug the way he had done when Danny was little, despite the fact that Danny was only a little shorter than him now. The woman who had led Danny into the cabin stood back, letting them have their father son time. "Dad, what happened to you? At the hospital, they said nothing was wrong with you, but you never woke up." He pulled back from his father. "I waited two weeks, coming to the hospital with the Mrs. Henderson every day, hoping you would wake up." It felt painful to say, even after all the years that had past, but he needed to know. Ben wouldn't look at his son, instead taking his arm and leading him over to a part of the cabin that wasn't completely crowded and sitting down on the floor. Danny followed his example.
"How old are you now?" Ben asked him, finally looking at his son.
"Twenty seven." Danny answered, shifting to get comfortable on the hard wooden floor.
"Twenty seven..." Ben shook his head. "I've been here twenty four years now. Hard to keep track when you're a spirit and trapped, I guess."
"Wait, what?" Danny held up a hand. "Start at the beginning."
"About twenty four years ago, as I said, me and a few of the other guys were on patrol around the island when we came across something strange. So Nix drives over to check it out and it turns out to be a lot larger than any of us could've seen in the dark. It was this massive ship that looked like it had no right to belong in our time period." Ben explained, when Danny interrupted him.
"That ship was at Xango's tonight!" He said. "That's where I..." He didn't want to finish that sentence and fell silent again, waving a hand for his father to continue.
"We decided to go in and check, because a big thing like that wandering around these shores? There were some things we needed to know. But just as we're getting in close, everyone hears this gigantic boom and the boat we're all on shudders and tips to the side. We were hit with a cannon ball or something. The only thing we could do at that point was bail, because they kept firing at us. So we jumped and swam to shore."
"That's what the chief of police told me when they tried to explain what happened." Danny said. "That you'd hit your head in a boating accident."
Ben shook his head. "My head was just fine when I reached shore and so was the rest of me. But the guys and I weren't prepared for the welcoming party. Those pirates outside were waiting for us and there was fighting. The last thing I remember was looking into the eyes of one of the pirates and hearing screaming and feeling the flames lick my skin, almost as if I were being dragged into hell, and then nothing. I woke up here." He waved to the room. "I've been here ever since with two of the other guys from the Coast Guard."
Danny rubbed his temples. "You were in the hospital, Dad. I saw you. I watched you die!" He said, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
"Just as your body is doing now." Ben told him. "The body can live two weeks without the soul, but then it just dies. The soul is the battery, in a way of speaking, for the body."
"That's why you died." Danny said quietly. "You weren't there." Ben slowly nodded.
"Yeah." He said quietly, looking to his son with pained eyes. "I'm sorry I was never there for you, Danny. I wanted to be."
Danny ran his hands through his hair, looking up at his father. "I need to get out of here. I have a family back there who I love so much and I can't leave them now." He said, the thought painful. He couldn't help but look around at the spirits wandering the room. It was a collection of souls from different time periods and different walks of life. All of them united by the fact that they were lost and were prevented from returning home to the ones they loved, if they had loved ones. For many of them, their bodies had died long ago and yet they were still here. The room they were kept in was sparse, no furniture or decorations to speak of. There was really nothing at all. For a second his gaze caught on a boy sitting in the corner who had to be Emma's age, yet looked like he belonged in the 1700's. He stared blankly ahead, knees hugged to his chest and his chin resting on his knees.
"I have a wife and a daughter now." He said hoarsely as he gazed at the little boy. "Hannah is a wonderful woman inside and out. She's smart, beautiful, and one of the nicest people you'll ever meet." He swallowed past the painful lump that rose in his throat. "Emma is seven now and she's a little firecracker. I think she's been hanging around Mike too much." He smiled sadly at his father, who smiled back.
"So I'm a grandfather then?" He asked and Danny nodded. "I missed a lot then." He raised an eyebrow. "Mike's still around?"
"Mike adopted me, Dad. Nina and him were my parents after I lost you." He hated to say it, but it was true. After Ben had died, he'd needed someone to look after him, being only a child. "But I missed you."
"I missed you too." Ben said, taking his son into his arms in a hug as he had done before going out to sea. "Always."
------------------
"There's always trouble, isn't there?" Mike said, staring directly at the bathroom door where Will was changing into his clothes. He had been under the assumption that once the business with Smythe had been taken care of, Jack and Will had finally been at peace. Yet here was one half of the trouble-making duo, telling him that there was trouble. Not as if Mike hadn't already guessed that, with the pirate ship making it's appearance the night before.
The door opened and Will came out, throwing the gown onto the bed and picking up one of his shoes. "Not always. This is only the second time." He argued as he knelt down to tie his sneaker. Mike was about to respond when Hannah came in to the room like a woman on a mission.
"I filled out the sheets for 'Danny' to be released against doctor's orders." She said, brushing a blond lock of hair behind her ear and stuffing the papers into her purse. As she talked, she looked straight at Mike instead of the man who was supposed to be her husband, but wasn't. Will felt uncomfortable with the treatment, but continued putting on his shoes quietly. Mike got up from the bed.
"Good. Now we can get out of here and find out just what the hell is going on." He muttered. Will finished tying his shoes and joined them as they headed out into the hallway. "Now you've got a story to tell us, don't you Will?" Mike turned to look at him as they walked. "So start telling."
-----------
At the moment, all Mike wanted was the quiet. He didn't want to talk or listen to anyone, just wanted to reflect on his own thoughts. Will had told them quite the story and if that story was true, then things were a lot worse than he had ever imagined them to be. After everything had been said that needed to be said, he'd gone out to the barn to be alone with his own thoughts.
The only sounds at the moment were the movements of the horses in their stalls and the shovel against the floor as he mucked out one of the stalls. He shoveled up another load and turned, dumping it in the wheelbarrow. How the hell am I supposed to do this? A cursed pirate crew is holding my son hostage, they can't be killed, and they're capable of taking your soul, leaving the body behind to die. I'm one person, one ordinary person.
Now would be a good time for some help. He leaned the shovel up against the wall and wiped at his forehead, taking a deep breath. Help would be a great thing right now, but where was he going to get it? Search out the nearest witch doctor? The thought would've made him laugh if his mood hadn't been so dark.
Going up against Smythe had introduced him to the fact that there was a supernatural force in the world and a strong one at that. Men who could survive centuries by magic alone, as well as keeping others alive. Those that took souls into their grasp and kept them safe until the time was right for them to come into the world again. The dead ancestors that came back to help the living.
For a brief moment, he thought of Cecilia. He hadn't known her for very long, but she'd made a big impression on him, a good impression at that. Right now they could've used someone with her expertise and talents with the magical arts.
Shaking his head, Mike broke his train of thought. Those thoughts weren't helping him anyway. They were only taking him off track and making him more frustrated. He grabbed the shovel again and took up another load of the dirty hay on the floor and turned to dump it into the wheelbarrow.
Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he stopped, shovel still poised to dump its load. A cold shiver went up his spine despite the overly humid weather they were having that night. After he'd dumped the dirty hay, he set the shovel back down again and walked slowly down the isle of the barn, glancing around. Someone was in the barn. He could feel it. There was just some sense tingling that told him he was not alone.
"Look, I'm not in the mood to put up with this hide and go seek B.S., so whoever you are, get the hell out of here before I do something worse to you." He muttered angrily. There was no response or movement. The soft light didn't provide him enough light to see into the corners of the barn, so he retrieved the shovel and headed down to see who could possibly be hiding in the dark shadows.
The cold tingle raced down his spine again and he spun, expecting to see someone behind him, but still there was no one. "Hello?" He called, gripping the shovel tighter. "This isn't a joke. I find you and there will be a world of pain for you." He threatened. "I am not in the goddamn mood for this." Again he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly, hoping to catch the perpetrator this time.
He cursed angrily when he found no one, yet he still felt like someone else was there with him. "Look, I'm sick of this joke. Quit being an asshole and just leave!" He shouted angrily, although he had no intentions of letting the person just leave. He was frustrated and that needed to be worked out. "Look, I'll stand here in the center of the isle, close my eyes, and count to ten. If you haven't gotten your ass out by then, I'll kick it out and not too nicely." He looked around once more before he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "One, two, three..."
While he counted, the cause of his annoyance appeared right in front of him, looking amused. Jack Sparrow was nothing more than a ghost at the moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't cause mischief before getting down to business. He was, after all, a pirate and a natural born troublemaker. There hadn't been any trouble in his lifetime that he hadn't been able to talk his way out of, except for his death at Smythe's hands. That had been unavoidable.
"...eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, I'm coming in swinging!" Mike shouted, opening his eyes and ready to attack. Unfortunately, the first thing he did was scream bloody murder as he caught sight of the ghost standing in front of him. Without thinking he swung the shovel at Jack. The shovel went straight through him and crashed into the wall, spooking the horse inside the stall. Most of them were spooked after his screaming and paced nervously in their stalls. He pointed at Jack, eyes wide. "You...you...ghost..." He stuttered.
Jack smirked. "Aye, Michael. I'm a ghost. At least you got that much bloody right." He walked around Mike, looking around at the barn. Mike took a few moments to pull himself together, taking deep breaths.
"You. What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, taking in the pirate. The captain looked almost exactly like him, except for the beaded dreads, and the bearded braid, and the whole pirate look in general. Jack turned to face him, sauntering back.
"Heard you needed a bit of help, mate. Well, I'm here to help." He grinned as he approached Mike. "I've been up against cursed pirates before. I think I can handle these dogs." He tapped his chin. "Although, they didn't take souls either..." He shook his head. "A curse is still a curse. Just need to find a way to break it, savvy?"
Mike shivered, running his hands through his hair. "All the stress finally got to me. I think I'm standing here talking to a dead pirate captain." He muttered. "I've finally lost it."
Jack rolled his eyes skyward. "Not like a Sparrow has much in the way of sanity in the first place." He said. Mike looked up at him.
"How are you going to break this curse if you're just a ghost?" He asked quickly, not wanting to know the answer but he needed to find out.
Jack looked him directly in the eyes. "That's where you come in, mate." He said before disappearing. Mike spun around, looking for him.
"Jack? What do you mean, that's where I come in?" He called into the barn. The horses grew even more restless, banging up against the walls of their stalls and making noises, or pacing nervously. "Jack? Hello?" He stood completely still in the middle of the isle, still looking for the ghost of the pirate captain.
A strange tingling sensation started on his wrist and he glanced down, still clutching the shovel tightly. In the dim light he could see black lines wiggling like miniature snakes on his skin, moving into some kind of pattern. As he watched, the all too familiar tattoo formed on his wrist and a moment later, the cursed brand appeared below it, burning brightly for a moment before fading into the scarred skin that made up the brand.
Jack dropped the shovel on the ground, stepping over it as he walked towards the doors of the barn. He had a mission now, to find William and then the pirates who had taken Danny.
A smirk appeared once again on his lips. "Captain Jack Sparrow is back."
"It's me." He opened up his arms as Danny lunged for him like a little boy greeting his father home. At the moment, lost and confused, Danny felt like a little boy and nothing would help more than his father's embrace. Ben Turner took his son into his arms, holding him tightly in a bear hug the way he had done when Danny was little, despite the fact that Danny was only a little shorter than him now. The woman who had led Danny into the cabin stood back, letting them have their father son time. "Dad, what happened to you? At the hospital, they said nothing was wrong with you, but you never woke up." He pulled back from his father. "I waited two weeks, coming to the hospital with the Mrs. Henderson every day, hoping you would wake up." It felt painful to say, even after all the years that had past, but he needed to know. Ben wouldn't look at his son, instead taking his arm and leading him over to a part of the cabin that wasn't completely crowded and sitting down on the floor. Danny followed his example.
"How old are you now?" Ben asked him, finally looking at his son.
"Twenty seven." Danny answered, shifting to get comfortable on the hard wooden floor.
"Twenty seven..." Ben shook his head. "I've been here twenty four years now. Hard to keep track when you're a spirit and trapped, I guess."
"Wait, what?" Danny held up a hand. "Start at the beginning."
"About twenty four years ago, as I said, me and a few of the other guys were on patrol around the island when we came across something strange. So Nix drives over to check it out and it turns out to be a lot larger than any of us could've seen in the dark. It was this massive ship that looked like it had no right to belong in our time period." Ben explained, when Danny interrupted him.
"That ship was at Xango's tonight!" He said. "That's where I..." He didn't want to finish that sentence and fell silent again, waving a hand for his father to continue.
"We decided to go in and check, because a big thing like that wandering around these shores? There were some things we needed to know. But just as we're getting in close, everyone hears this gigantic boom and the boat we're all on shudders and tips to the side. We were hit with a cannon ball or something. The only thing we could do at that point was bail, because they kept firing at us. So we jumped and swam to shore."
"That's what the chief of police told me when they tried to explain what happened." Danny said. "That you'd hit your head in a boating accident."
Ben shook his head. "My head was just fine when I reached shore and so was the rest of me. But the guys and I weren't prepared for the welcoming party. Those pirates outside were waiting for us and there was fighting. The last thing I remember was looking into the eyes of one of the pirates and hearing screaming and feeling the flames lick my skin, almost as if I were being dragged into hell, and then nothing. I woke up here." He waved to the room. "I've been here ever since with two of the other guys from the Coast Guard."
Danny rubbed his temples. "You were in the hospital, Dad. I saw you. I watched you die!" He said, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
"Just as your body is doing now." Ben told him. "The body can live two weeks without the soul, but then it just dies. The soul is the battery, in a way of speaking, for the body."
"That's why you died." Danny said quietly. "You weren't there." Ben slowly nodded.
"Yeah." He said quietly, looking to his son with pained eyes. "I'm sorry I was never there for you, Danny. I wanted to be."
Danny ran his hands through his hair, looking up at his father. "I need to get out of here. I have a family back there who I love so much and I can't leave them now." He said, the thought painful. He couldn't help but look around at the spirits wandering the room. It was a collection of souls from different time periods and different walks of life. All of them united by the fact that they were lost and were prevented from returning home to the ones they loved, if they had loved ones. For many of them, their bodies had died long ago and yet they were still here. The room they were kept in was sparse, no furniture or decorations to speak of. There was really nothing at all. For a second his gaze caught on a boy sitting in the corner who had to be Emma's age, yet looked like he belonged in the 1700's. He stared blankly ahead, knees hugged to his chest and his chin resting on his knees.
"I have a wife and a daughter now." He said hoarsely as he gazed at the little boy. "Hannah is a wonderful woman inside and out. She's smart, beautiful, and one of the nicest people you'll ever meet." He swallowed past the painful lump that rose in his throat. "Emma is seven now and she's a little firecracker. I think she's been hanging around Mike too much." He smiled sadly at his father, who smiled back.
"So I'm a grandfather then?" He asked and Danny nodded. "I missed a lot then." He raised an eyebrow. "Mike's still around?"
"Mike adopted me, Dad. Nina and him were my parents after I lost you." He hated to say it, but it was true. After Ben had died, he'd needed someone to look after him, being only a child. "But I missed you."
"I missed you too." Ben said, taking his son into his arms in a hug as he had done before going out to sea. "Always."
------------------
"There's always trouble, isn't there?" Mike said, staring directly at the bathroom door where Will was changing into his clothes. He had been under the assumption that once the business with Smythe had been taken care of, Jack and Will had finally been at peace. Yet here was one half of the trouble-making duo, telling him that there was trouble. Not as if Mike hadn't already guessed that, with the pirate ship making it's appearance the night before.
The door opened and Will came out, throwing the gown onto the bed and picking up one of his shoes. "Not always. This is only the second time." He argued as he knelt down to tie his sneaker. Mike was about to respond when Hannah came in to the room like a woman on a mission.
"I filled out the sheets for 'Danny' to be released against doctor's orders." She said, brushing a blond lock of hair behind her ear and stuffing the papers into her purse. As she talked, she looked straight at Mike instead of the man who was supposed to be her husband, but wasn't. Will felt uncomfortable with the treatment, but continued putting on his shoes quietly. Mike got up from the bed.
"Good. Now we can get out of here and find out just what the hell is going on." He muttered. Will finished tying his shoes and joined them as they headed out into the hallway. "Now you've got a story to tell us, don't you Will?" Mike turned to look at him as they walked. "So start telling."
-----------
At the moment, all Mike wanted was the quiet. He didn't want to talk or listen to anyone, just wanted to reflect on his own thoughts. Will had told them quite the story and if that story was true, then things were a lot worse than he had ever imagined them to be. After everything had been said that needed to be said, he'd gone out to the barn to be alone with his own thoughts.
The only sounds at the moment were the movements of the horses in their stalls and the shovel against the floor as he mucked out one of the stalls. He shoveled up another load and turned, dumping it in the wheelbarrow. How the hell am I supposed to do this? A cursed pirate crew is holding my son hostage, they can't be killed, and they're capable of taking your soul, leaving the body behind to die. I'm one person, one ordinary person.
Now would be a good time for some help. He leaned the shovel up against the wall and wiped at his forehead, taking a deep breath. Help would be a great thing right now, but where was he going to get it? Search out the nearest witch doctor? The thought would've made him laugh if his mood hadn't been so dark.
Going up against Smythe had introduced him to the fact that there was a supernatural force in the world and a strong one at that. Men who could survive centuries by magic alone, as well as keeping others alive. Those that took souls into their grasp and kept them safe until the time was right for them to come into the world again. The dead ancestors that came back to help the living.
For a brief moment, he thought of Cecilia. He hadn't known her for very long, but she'd made a big impression on him, a good impression at that. Right now they could've used someone with her expertise and talents with the magical arts.
Shaking his head, Mike broke his train of thought. Those thoughts weren't helping him anyway. They were only taking him off track and making him more frustrated. He grabbed the shovel again and took up another load of the dirty hay on the floor and turned to dump it into the wheelbarrow.
Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he stopped, shovel still poised to dump its load. A cold shiver went up his spine despite the overly humid weather they were having that night. After he'd dumped the dirty hay, he set the shovel back down again and walked slowly down the isle of the barn, glancing around. Someone was in the barn. He could feel it. There was just some sense tingling that told him he was not alone.
"Look, I'm not in the mood to put up with this hide and go seek B.S., so whoever you are, get the hell out of here before I do something worse to you." He muttered angrily. There was no response or movement. The soft light didn't provide him enough light to see into the corners of the barn, so he retrieved the shovel and headed down to see who could possibly be hiding in the dark shadows.
The cold tingle raced down his spine again and he spun, expecting to see someone behind him, but still there was no one. "Hello?" He called, gripping the shovel tighter. "This isn't a joke. I find you and there will be a world of pain for you." He threatened. "I am not in the goddamn mood for this." Again he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly, hoping to catch the perpetrator this time.
He cursed angrily when he found no one, yet he still felt like someone else was there with him. "Look, I'm sick of this joke. Quit being an asshole and just leave!" He shouted angrily, although he had no intentions of letting the person just leave. He was frustrated and that needed to be worked out. "Look, I'll stand here in the center of the isle, close my eyes, and count to ten. If you haven't gotten your ass out by then, I'll kick it out and not too nicely." He looked around once more before he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "One, two, three..."
While he counted, the cause of his annoyance appeared right in front of him, looking amused. Jack Sparrow was nothing more than a ghost at the moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't cause mischief before getting down to business. He was, after all, a pirate and a natural born troublemaker. There hadn't been any trouble in his lifetime that he hadn't been able to talk his way out of, except for his death at Smythe's hands. That had been unavoidable.
"...eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, I'm coming in swinging!" Mike shouted, opening his eyes and ready to attack. Unfortunately, the first thing he did was scream bloody murder as he caught sight of the ghost standing in front of him. Without thinking he swung the shovel at Jack. The shovel went straight through him and crashed into the wall, spooking the horse inside the stall. Most of them were spooked after his screaming and paced nervously in their stalls. He pointed at Jack, eyes wide. "You...you...ghost..." He stuttered.
Jack smirked. "Aye, Michael. I'm a ghost. At least you got that much bloody right." He walked around Mike, looking around at the barn. Mike took a few moments to pull himself together, taking deep breaths.
"You. What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, taking in the pirate. The captain looked almost exactly like him, except for the beaded dreads, and the bearded braid, and the whole pirate look in general. Jack turned to face him, sauntering back.
"Heard you needed a bit of help, mate. Well, I'm here to help." He grinned as he approached Mike. "I've been up against cursed pirates before. I think I can handle these dogs." He tapped his chin. "Although, they didn't take souls either..." He shook his head. "A curse is still a curse. Just need to find a way to break it, savvy?"
Mike shivered, running his hands through his hair. "All the stress finally got to me. I think I'm standing here talking to a dead pirate captain." He muttered. "I've finally lost it."
Jack rolled his eyes skyward. "Not like a Sparrow has much in the way of sanity in the first place." He said. Mike looked up at him.
"How are you going to break this curse if you're just a ghost?" He asked quickly, not wanting to know the answer but he needed to find out.
Jack looked him directly in the eyes. "That's where you come in, mate." He said before disappearing. Mike spun around, looking for him.
"Jack? What do you mean, that's where I come in?" He called into the barn. The horses grew even more restless, banging up against the walls of their stalls and making noises, or pacing nervously. "Jack? Hello?" He stood completely still in the middle of the isle, still looking for the ghost of the pirate captain.
A strange tingling sensation started on his wrist and he glanced down, still clutching the shovel tightly. In the dim light he could see black lines wiggling like miniature snakes on his skin, moving into some kind of pattern. As he watched, the all too familiar tattoo formed on his wrist and a moment later, the cursed brand appeared below it, burning brightly for a moment before fading into the scarred skin that made up the brand.
Jack dropped the shovel on the ground, stepping over it as he walked towards the doors of the barn. He had a mission now, to find William and then the pirates who had taken Danny.
A smirk appeared once again on his lips. "Captain Jack Sparrow is back."