There had been a time when Bill Turner loved the sea. It had seemed so infinite and full of possibility once. But that was a long time ago-before he slaved on the greedy merchant's ship and before he fled to the Black Pearl and became known as "Bootstrap". Once he watched Barbossa force Jack Sparrow to walk the plank, standing in the back of the crowd and cursing his own cowardice for not coming to his captain's aid, Bill had realized the sea was really just another prison. Staring out into the endless horizon lost all the comfort for him it had once held and served to remind him just how very small and unimportant he was in this world.
The eight years he spent at the bottom of the ocean's depths had done nothing to make his opinion of the sea any brighter.
Bill remembered the day Barbossa sent him plummeting into the deep as clear as though it had just happened-the panic, the overwhelming sense of cold, the dragging weight of the cannon and his own wet clothes. He would liked to have imagined that all his thoughts were for the son and wife he would never see again, but in truth all he felt was the fear. He was too terrified to realize that he wasn't drowning until he had sunk so deep that he could barely see. For all the shimmer on the ocean's surface, its bowels were as black as the deepest pit in hell. Had he been able to release his hands from their bounds, he would still not have seen them in front of his own face.
It felt as though he sunk forever. Bill could swear that it was easily days in passing before he reached the ocean floor. Some voice in the back of his mind realized that the curse must have taken hold of him, and that was the only reason why he hadn't drowned, but mostly, he just felt panic. There was an asylum back in London. Bill remembered walking by there, hearing the screams of the mad and raving souls locked inside. He heard once that one of the cruelest tortures the stewards inflicted upon the inmates was locking them away in a dark room with no human contact. Bill now understood the cruelty of such a punishment all too well. Amazing how even though he was not really alive he could still feel the merciless cold and crushing weight of the whole ocean pressing down on him. Worst of all was the blackness. He could hear still, as though the water itself amplified the sound of unknown beasties swimming around him, brushing against him unseen, but he could not see anything but darkness so black that he couldn't find the words to describe it. One of the last thoughts he had before his sanity began to slip was that he had been damned. Everyone knew the lowest circles of hell were reserved for mutineers, and though he had not helped push Jack off the plank and to his end, he had also not done anything to prevent it.
Bill was not sure how long he stayed immobile on the ocean floor. He was quite certain the madness had finally taken him fully, and was actually grateful because it clouded some of the memory of those dark days. It wasn't until something large and scaly slithered between his legs, causing him to jump, that he realized the rope binding him to the cannon had rotted away. He was free, or at least, as free as one could be stranded in the deep. The ludicrousness of the situation would have made him laugh if he still had a voice. He did the only thing he could think to do. He walked. He walked for years, each day just like the last, black and heavy. He had no idea where he was going, but just standing still would drive what tiny bit of sanity remained in his mind. At least, he liked to think he still had some shred of humanity left to him.
After years passed of darkness, the sudden light struck him with a physical blow. A normal man would have found it too dark to see, but to Bill, the light was blinding. He hadn't even noticed the ocean's surface was slanting up, so it must have been gradual. Bill looked up and saw above him the belly of a ship. The pressure of the ocean had lessened, and he found he could swim. He pushed as hard as he could, though the light was growing brighter and his eyes would have watered to the point of blindness if they were still capable. He broke into a patch of moonlight and witnessed the full effect of the curse for the first time. His arms were nothing but bone with a few gray bits of decaying flesh still attached. He could see the shriveled husk in his rib cage that had once been his heart. Bill laughed, hard and loud, and felt the last tenuous grips on his sanity snap. Some sailor in the little ship above heard the noise and came running. A cloud had passed over the moon, hiding Bill's true form, and the shouts of "Man overboard" sounded so strange to ears that had not heard a human voice in an age. When the sailors pulled Bill out of the sea, he killed them without comment, using their own swords against them, unable to die himself. Some small voice in the back of William Turner's head cried to be heard, but the William Turner who had fathered a son and loved a pirate was all but gone. In its place was a madman, who wanted nothing but revenge.
Author's notes:
I guess this is where I start to deviate from the movieverse a bit. ^_^ I want to thank my wonderful reviewers, my sister, and my buddy Cliia for their continued support. I was a nervous wreck when I first posted this story, because I'd never done fanfic before. I'm really enjoying myself. I would also like to take this opportunity to plug my other story, to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, called "Not Such a Good Idea". I know, I'm so cheesy.
Now, to respond to my wonderful reviewers:
Cliia: You are a goddess. Anyone reading this should check out Cliia's Buffy TVS and X-Men movieverse stories. Excellent reads.
Emeraldwolf: Thanks for the continued support. I guess this chapter answers your question about Bootstrap Bill still being alive. I'm surprised they didn't address it in the movie, considering they showed the pirates walking on the ocean's floor and all that in the end.
Alanye: Thanks! I am not sure what a "review history" button is. Maybe I haven't been paying careful enough attention when I'm on the site. I swear I will read your story, but I have this stupid hangup where I don't want to read fanfic in the same genre I'm still writing in, because I'll drive myself nuts wondering if I stole someone else's ideas. I need to know this all came from me. I promise to do my best to update and get the story finished sometime soon.
The eight years he spent at the bottom of the ocean's depths had done nothing to make his opinion of the sea any brighter.
Bill remembered the day Barbossa sent him plummeting into the deep as clear as though it had just happened-the panic, the overwhelming sense of cold, the dragging weight of the cannon and his own wet clothes. He would liked to have imagined that all his thoughts were for the son and wife he would never see again, but in truth all he felt was the fear. He was too terrified to realize that he wasn't drowning until he had sunk so deep that he could barely see. For all the shimmer on the ocean's surface, its bowels were as black as the deepest pit in hell. Had he been able to release his hands from their bounds, he would still not have seen them in front of his own face.
It felt as though he sunk forever. Bill could swear that it was easily days in passing before he reached the ocean floor. Some voice in the back of his mind realized that the curse must have taken hold of him, and that was the only reason why he hadn't drowned, but mostly, he just felt panic. There was an asylum back in London. Bill remembered walking by there, hearing the screams of the mad and raving souls locked inside. He heard once that one of the cruelest tortures the stewards inflicted upon the inmates was locking them away in a dark room with no human contact. Bill now understood the cruelty of such a punishment all too well. Amazing how even though he was not really alive he could still feel the merciless cold and crushing weight of the whole ocean pressing down on him. Worst of all was the blackness. He could hear still, as though the water itself amplified the sound of unknown beasties swimming around him, brushing against him unseen, but he could not see anything but darkness so black that he couldn't find the words to describe it. One of the last thoughts he had before his sanity began to slip was that he had been damned. Everyone knew the lowest circles of hell were reserved for mutineers, and though he had not helped push Jack off the plank and to his end, he had also not done anything to prevent it.
Bill was not sure how long he stayed immobile on the ocean floor. He was quite certain the madness had finally taken him fully, and was actually grateful because it clouded some of the memory of those dark days. It wasn't until something large and scaly slithered between his legs, causing him to jump, that he realized the rope binding him to the cannon had rotted away. He was free, or at least, as free as one could be stranded in the deep. The ludicrousness of the situation would have made him laugh if he still had a voice. He did the only thing he could think to do. He walked. He walked for years, each day just like the last, black and heavy. He had no idea where he was going, but just standing still would drive what tiny bit of sanity remained in his mind. At least, he liked to think he still had some shred of humanity left to him.
After years passed of darkness, the sudden light struck him with a physical blow. A normal man would have found it too dark to see, but to Bill, the light was blinding. He hadn't even noticed the ocean's surface was slanting up, so it must have been gradual. Bill looked up and saw above him the belly of a ship. The pressure of the ocean had lessened, and he found he could swim. He pushed as hard as he could, though the light was growing brighter and his eyes would have watered to the point of blindness if they were still capable. He broke into a patch of moonlight and witnessed the full effect of the curse for the first time. His arms were nothing but bone with a few gray bits of decaying flesh still attached. He could see the shriveled husk in his rib cage that had once been his heart. Bill laughed, hard and loud, and felt the last tenuous grips on his sanity snap. Some sailor in the little ship above heard the noise and came running. A cloud had passed over the moon, hiding Bill's true form, and the shouts of "Man overboard" sounded so strange to ears that had not heard a human voice in an age. When the sailors pulled Bill out of the sea, he killed them without comment, using their own swords against them, unable to die himself. Some small voice in the back of William Turner's head cried to be heard, but the William Turner who had fathered a son and loved a pirate was all but gone. In its place was a madman, who wanted nothing but revenge.
Author's notes:
I guess this is where I start to deviate from the movieverse a bit. ^_^ I want to thank my wonderful reviewers, my sister, and my buddy Cliia for their continued support. I was a nervous wreck when I first posted this story, because I'd never done fanfic before. I'm really enjoying myself. I would also like to take this opportunity to plug my other story, to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, called "Not Such a Good Idea". I know, I'm so cheesy.
Now, to respond to my wonderful reviewers:
Cliia: You are a goddess. Anyone reading this should check out Cliia's Buffy TVS and X-Men movieverse stories. Excellent reads.
Emeraldwolf: Thanks for the continued support. I guess this chapter answers your question about Bootstrap Bill still being alive. I'm surprised they didn't address it in the movie, considering they showed the pirates walking on the ocean's floor and all that in the end.
Alanye: Thanks! I am not sure what a "review history" button is. Maybe I haven't been paying careful enough attention when I'm on the site. I swear I will read your story, but I have this stupid hangup where I don't want to read fanfic in the same genre I'm still writing in, because I'll drive myself nuts wondering if I stole someone else's ideas. I need to know this all came from me. I promise to do my best to update and get the story finished sometime soon.