At World's End

by blackpearllover

Will, Elizabeth, and the crew reluctantly follow Barbossa to the world's end to rescue Jack. Meanwhile, Jack has discovered that purgatory isn't quite what it's made out to be...

2. Purgatory

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the pack of Wonka Nerds sitting on my computer desk, so unless you're really hungry, don't bother suing )

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

Chapter Two: Purgatory

It felt as if a large sack filled with bricks, sand, and exceptionally furry monkeys had upended itself on Jack's head. Blinking groggily, he swatted a hand at the air in front of him.

He was in a small room, lying face-up on the hard floor. There was a vague scent of mildew in the air, as well as what was unmistakably the smell of a multitude of unwashed human bodies. Wrinkling his nose, the pirate captain heaved himself to a sitting position, and gazed blearily about the cell.

The thick iron bars in front of him formed the fourth wall of the cell, with the other three walls comprised of unforgiving stone masonry that even Jack wasn't crazy enough to try and break through. Looking through the bars, not more than a hands-width apart from each other, the captain could make out a dimly-lit corridor filled with cells identical to his own.

Then a horrible sensation swept through the pirate, and his hands flew to his bandana-clad head. "My hat!"

Scrambling to his feet, Jack searched the cell wildly for the prized possession, but to no avail. Groaning in frustration, he slid down the back wall, and grumbled: "This must be Hell."

"Not Hell," a deep voice rasped. "Purgatory."

Gold teeth glistened in the torchlight as Jack grinned faintly. "I fail to see the distinction, mate." When there was no response, the pirate crawled forward to peer at the dark figure huddled in the cell across from his. He stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

"I don't s'pose you know how I get in here, eh?"

The man got to his feet and approached the bars of his cell. When the torchlight illuminated his hideously scarred face, Jack recoiled. "You ought to see a doctor about that," he suggested helpfully.

"You joke a lot for a man banished to Purgatory," the man growled.

Jack inclined his head, pressing his hands together in a mock-bow from his kneeling position. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate! I shall be out of this cage before you can say Tortuga."

The pronouncement somehow failed to impress the man. "So you're the one they've been talking about."

The pirate captain's head tilted, eyebrow arching skyward. "What's the gossip saying, then?"

"You sold your soul to Davy Jones for a ship," the man said slowly. "Then your crew mutinied, you were abandoned on a desert island, and once you finally reclaimed the ship, your thirteen years were up, and He came to collect the debt you owed."

"Filthy bugger," Jack noted. "All slime and tentacles."

"So he set the kraken on you," the man continued. "But you tried to escape its clutches. No one's clear on what happened there – some fools said you went after Jones's heart, if you can believe it. No man would be stupid enough to try that, I hold."

"Ridiculous notion," the pirate agreed nonchalantly, waving a carefree hand about. "Even I wouldn't try something that foolish." The man missed the amused glint in Jack's eyes. "So what am I doing here, then?"

"The kraken finally caught up to you," he concluded. "It couldn't kill you, of course."

Jack blinked. "Why of course?"

The man seemed confused. "You owe your soul to Jones. He won't kill you till your debt is repaid. So instead he sent you here, along with your ship."

"My ship?" Jack perked up noticeably, beads jangling merrily in his dreadlocks as he scooted farther forward. "You know where the Pearl is?"

The man gave a grunt of dismissal. "In the shipyards, although I've never seen them with my own eyes."

"Bugger."

He shrugged. "I was sent here for thieving, myself. Stole something that I shouldn't have from a powerful witch – never thought she'd stick me here, rather than just killing me like any decent person would."

Jack affected a look of sympathy, which more or less succeeded. "So…" he drawled, sitting back and examining the cell intently. "Don't s'pose you know any way out of this place… er…?"

"Garth," the man grunted. "And don't you think I would've gotten out of here ages ago if I could?"

"All information is good information," the pirate scolded. "Think, man!"

Garth pondered the question. "Sorry, I've got nothing. I've never been outside my cell, except during meals. And there's no chance She'd let anyone escape, anyway…"

The man trailed off as Jack's eyes lit with delight.

"Er… why are you grinning?"

"Who is this she, exactly?"

"The… ruler of Purgatory… why?"

"The ruler of Purgatory… is a woman?"

"Yes…"

Jack grinned. "Problem solved, mate."

Neptune's Wrath was making good time as it scurried down the coast of South America, but its crew wasn't in quite as good a state.

Only days into the voyage, Elizabeth and Will's little unspoken argument had reached an all-time high, and the pair had now taken to studiously avoiding all contact with each other, except for when they had no choice but to be near the other. These moments generally led to nasty insults – and much face-slapping in Elizabeth's case – so as a whole the crew had taken to making themselves scarce whenever such clashes were inevitable.

Elizabeth herself wasn't nearly as mad with Will as he was with her, but every time she caught his eye the despair, jealousy, and betrayal radiating from his tense body where enough to send waves of guilt coursing through her. He, of course, was too proper to accuse her of anything if she didn't bring it up first, and so they settled into a holding pattern of poorly-concealed aggression that was irritating the crew to no end.

Meanwhile, the crew itself was going mad at having to take orders from the previously undead Barbossa, who seemed elated at being in control of a ship again… even if he was well aware that every man and woman on ship would kill him the instant he tried anything uncouth. Still, Tia Dalma's ringing endorsement of his changed nature kept their blades in their sheaths, and their guns in their holsters… for the time being, anyway.

As a matter of fact, the only people not swept up in the discontent that swamped the Wrath were Pintel and Ragetti. Ragetti because, of course, he was too busy chasing after his errant eyeball, and Pintel because he happened to like Barbossa, thank you very much, and felt that any unhappiness on the part of the blacksmith who'd taken away his immortality was a good thing indeed.

As the Wrath rounded the tip of South America and entered the vast stretch of water known as the Pacific Ocean – a place only Barbossa and, surprisingly, Pintel, had been before – the mood of the crew was at an all time low, and Elizabeth had broken down into tears after her latest encounter with Will.

Standing behind the Wrath's mighty oak wheel, gazing majestically out over his crew, Barbossa frowned as he took in his men's downcast eyes and unhappy glowers as they scurried around the deck.

"Alright, that's enough!" Barbossa bellowed. His booming voice carried easily enough across the large deck, and within minutes the whole crew, Will and Elizabeth included, had gathered uneasily around the helm to hear their Captain's words.

"I've been listenin' to you lot snivel and complain for too long!" he snarled. He gave Will, then Elizabeth, a pointed glare. "You two are from here on out confined to the crow's nest until you can work out your problems! And as fer the rest of you! I'm your captain, whether you scallywags like it or not, so show a little respect! Next man I see giving me the evil eye is going down to see Davy Jones!"

The men blanched in only the way men can who have come face to face with Davy Jones, and never, ever, ever want to again.

"Am I makin' myself clear?"

A mumbled chorus of agreement was like music to the Captain's ears. "Right then," he snapped. "Back to work, the lot of you! Mister Turner, Miss Swann – it's the crows nest for you."

"This is outrageous," Elizabeth hissed as Pintel 'helped' her towards the center mast, by means of grabbing her arm and dragging her. "He has no right to interfere in our affairs!"

"Mayhaps if you wasn't so disruptive when settling said affairs, Captain wouldn't 'ave resorted to this," the balding man sneered.

Elizabeth scowled. "I never liked you."

A hurt look blossomed on the man's scraggly features. "You little-" She scrambled up the mast before he could come to his senses and lunge after her.

As she pulled herself up into the cramped crow's nest, Elizabeth found herself looking directly into the stormy eyes of Will Turner. Averting her gaze, she clambered the rest of the way into the nest and settled down as far from her fiancée as possible.

Several minutes passed in silence. When more than an hour had gone by, Will suddenly snorted derisively and said, "You know, if you hadn't thrown yourself at Jack, we wouldn't be in this situation now."

"What I do with Jack Sparrow is none of your concern," Elizabeth hissed, well aware of how absurd the statement was, speaking to her fiancée and all. "And I didn't throw myself at him."

"No," Will snarled, eyes darkening. "I suppose he cast some sort of spell over you that made you helpless to resist his advances. Or perhaps you tripped and fell on his lips?"

"Actually, I just couldn't tear myself away from his rugged manliness," Elizabeth snapped. "Don't be a fool! I kissed Jack to save us all!"

Will snorted, although amusement was the farthest thing from his mind. "If you truly believe that, then perhaps I should be glad that you two are so close. It is said that the insane are attracted to each other."

"That's absurd, and I am not mad," she retorted. "Honestly, Will, are you blind? That kraken was hell-bent on destroying Jack, and if he had come with us, it would have killed us all! It was after him, don't you see! If we weren't near him, we'd survive."

"And you honestly expect me to believe that your kiss convinced a craven pirate to play the hero and sacrifice himself so that we might live," Will laughed. "You've changed."

"You're the one who's changed," Elizabeth replied harshly. "You don't ever think things through, do you! I kissed Jack to distract him – not for my own pleasure! – so that I could shackle him to the mast while his guard was down."

Silence blanketed the crow's nest as Will took in her words with wide eyes. For a moment he looked less an infuriated man, and more like a helpless child. "You…"

"I condemned him to death, yes," she snapped impatiently. "I had no choice! It was us or him, Will!"

"So you kissed him… to save us. To save me." Clearly he was more concerned with her infidelity than the fact that she'd just admitted to causing their friend's death. Then again, considering said friend had abandoned him to Davy Jones, hit him over the head with a paddle, and stopped him from destroying Jones's heart by pressing a sword against his throat, his reaction wasn't all that surprising. Will really had grown up, although not necessarily for the better.

"Yes," Elizabeth insisted, conveniently ignoring the voice in her mind screaming you may have been distracting him, missy, but you enjoyed that kiss way more than you're saying!

For the first time in over a month, Will's eyes softened and a spark of hope returned to their brown depths. "Then… you weren't cheating on me."

"Of course not!" That ever-present guilt surged up again, but Elizabeth ignored it and plastered the most apologetic expression she could on her face. "Will, won't you forgive me? What I did, I did for us. So we could live."

Will's only response was to pull his love into his arms and kiss her senseless. As Elizabeth melted into the feeling and was swept away in the emotion she'd gone so long without feeling, she remembered another kiss, a mind-blowing, way-better-than-any-Will's-given-me kiss, that she'd had not long ago… I am not thinking about Jack Sparrow while kissing my husband-to-be! Oooh, this is not good.

Pulling away from her, Will tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her smooth cheek, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe Barbossa was right after all," he admitted. "All we needed was to talk things out."

"I suppose you're right," Elizabeth agreed demurely, barely noticing as his arms pulled her against, settling around her waist in a possessive fashion. All she could think of was that confounded kiss, the feel of his lips on hers. Jack…

Back in the Caribbean, things had taken an interesting turn. This was partially in the form of Lord Cutler Beckett assuming Governor Swann's title and all the powers it possessed, allowing the East India Trading Company free reign over all trade in the Caribbean, but mostly in that James Norrington had sold his soul, so to speak, for his newly-appointed position as Admiral of the King's fleet.

Standing at attention in his bright red attire, white wig back on his head, gleaming black shoes firmly on his feet, Admiral Norrington was a perfect example of the British navy at its best. His 'commanding officer', Lord Beckett, nodded approvingly from the desk he was lounging behind, eyes flickering every now and then to the mahogany box on the corner that held his most precious possession – the heart of Davy Jones.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Admiral," he stated, gesturing for the man to relax and take a seat. Norrington did so, although he kept a wary eye on the man. Ambitious he was, oh yes, but stupidity was not one of his more prominent character traits.

"Thank you, sir," he responded politely. "I've been inspecting the fleet all morning. Things had been a tad… lax, since I was away."

Beckett sighed. "I have no doubt that Port Royal fell to pieces without your marvelous leadership to guide their way." It was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not – his flat voice gave away nothing. "But now that you've returned to us, I'm certain the fleet will be spick and span in no time."

Norrington inclined his head cautiously. "That is my plan, sir."

"Excellent!" Beckett clapped his hands together. "Now then, Admiral, there are more important matters to discuss."

"What might those be?"

The Lord leaned forward, a frown marring his face. "Admiral Norrington, you have provided me with a detailed account of how you came across Davy Jones's heart. A fantastic tale of barnacle covered fish-men, and a grand showdown involving not only the elusive Jack Sparrow-"

"Captain," Norrington corrected immediately, then winced. "Forgive me," he mumbled quietly.

Beckett seemed more amused than irritated. "It seems that even being around the man for a few short days can affect one. But to return to my point, Admiral, you've told me that Mr. Sparrow, Miss Swan, and Mr. Turner were all present at this grand showdown, after which you heroically sacrificed yourself to let them escape to safety."

"A ruse," Norrington reminded him, "to secure the heart, which they didn't know I had."

"Yes, yes, I know," Beckett waved a hand dismissively. "Then you returned here, gifted me with the heart, and I, in gratitude, named you my Admiral."

Norrington gave a short bow.

"But what I really want to know, Admiral, is what happened to Jack Sparrow." Beckett's lips twisted in displeasure. "My agents managed to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth Swann in Tortuga, of all places, immediately following the incident. But Mr. Sparrow, it seems, has vanished."

Norrington gave him a confused look. "Forgive me for asking, Lord Beckett, but what does it matter? With the heart of Davy Jones, do you not control the seas themselves?"

"In a sense," Beckett said. "And that is why I ask." He tapped an impatient finger on the gleaming wooden desk. "Davy Jones's heart gives me control over Davy Jones himself, for he dares not resist me while I hold such a valuable object in my possession."

"Then get him to find Sparrow for you."

"That is what I did," Beckett snapped. "And Jones sent a message not a day later indicating that Sparrow was not to be found on this earth. Not to be found! You can see why that troubles me, Admiral, when a very dangerous pirate is loose in this world, and even Davy Jones does not know his location!"

"Perhaps he's dead," Norrington suggested with a poorly-concealed grin.

Beckett studied him with mild amusement. "You'd like that, I'm sure. Fortunately, so would I. That is why the first task I'm giving you, after you get my fleet back up to standard, is to go forth and locate Jack Sparrow."

The Lord grinned. "Davy Jones was lying to me, or at least not telling the whole truth."

"What do you mean?"

"Sparrow may not be on this earth, but Jones never said that he was dead. Wherever Sparrow is, you will find him, and you will bring him to me. And if I find that our dear Mr. Jones lied to me, he will suffer the same fate Mr. Sparrow will."

"And what might that be?" Norrington inquired eagerly.

Beckett smirked. "A short drop and a sudden stop, my friend."

"Ah, good," Norrington grinned. "Just making sure we were on the same page."