By the time Violet and Jack reached the deck of the Dutchman, cannonballs were exploding all around them in a shower of wood and rain and ocean spray. Violet couldn't tell how long they'd been locked up, but evidently much had happened since then.
"We need our swords!" Violet shouted above the fray, wondering if it was possible for the two of them to steal back their effects undetected.
"Seems dearest Barbossa is completely useless without us, love." Jack stepped out onto the deck, turning in a circle to survey the damage. All around them, raindrops were falling in like bullets onto the deck, blurring their vision and making them virtually invisible from the view of the Dutchman's sailors, who were sprinting across the deck, clashing blades and shooting off cannonballs. "The whole ship's in shambles."
"I hope they're alright," Violet said, and she meant it. Just across the water, she could barely make out the black sails of the Pearl through the storm, swaying jarringly in the rough sea winds. "They'll be needing our help, I imagine."
"It always falls on the two of us to save their skins, doesn't it?" Jack shot Violet a grin over his shoulder and she returned the gesture, flashing her teeth at him as they began to weave their way across the deck to where Davy Jones's cabin was located.
"I suppose it does. You know, one of these days we should charge for our services!" Violet ducked her head as she passed through the throng of cannon shots and jostling pirates, shouting to be heard above the brawl.
"I wholeheartedly agree. You know, with Miss Swann being the governor's daughter and all, I'm sure she could cough up her fair share of shillings." Jack looked behind him to make sure they remained undetected before slowly opening the door to the cabin. "After all the trouble we've gone to on her behalf, I'd say she owes us."
Violet followed Jack into the dim cabin, praying to any god that would listen that it would be empty. They had to get the chest, and fast. Unfortunately, they had barely made it through the doorway before they came face to face with two large cannons, and behind them, two British soldiers. It was then that Violet spotted the main treasure they guarded between them: the chest of Davy Jones, and in it, the beating heart that kept him alive.
"Hold it or I'll shoot!" One of the soldiers twisted his cannon shakily and pointed it at them, looking between Violet and Jack as if he was trying to decide which to shoot first. Suddenly, a cannon shot shuddered through the cabin, causing both soldiers to jump.
"Don't worry, gentlemen, Violet and I are just here to collect our effects." Jack gestured broadly at where their belongings lay and sauntered over, throwing his belt over his shoulder and putting his hat primly over his hair. "Catch, love." Grinning, Jack threw Violet's sword in her direction, and she just barely caught it by the handle before it sliced her fingers clean off.
"You couldn't have thrown me the hat, instead?" Violet snatched up her hat from the table and gave Jack a mocking glare, who put a hand over his heart.
"I said hold it!" the soldier calls, his voice more scared than stern. "I will shoot!"
"Sure you will," Violet said, snorting. "Call me a liar, but you don't really strike me as the killing type."
"More importantly," Jack said, coming over to stand next to Violet, "admirable though it may be, why are you here when you could be elsewhere?"
"Someone has to stay and guard the chest!" This time, it was the second soldier who spoke, looking equally as afraid as his partner. Violet couldn't help but get the sense that these men had met Jack before.
"There is no question, there has been a breakdown in military discipline aboard this vessel," said the first soldier, shaking his head. Violet opened her mouth to respond, but the second soldier cut in, and she realized what exactly Jack was trying to do.
"I blame the fish people," the second soldier remarked, setting off a heated discussion about discrimination towards fish pirates between the two soldiers, and Jack winked at Violet.
As quietly as possible, Jack reached forward to gently swipe the chest from its pedestal, the beating heart of Davy Jones locked carefully inside. The two soldiers, too engrossed in their discussion to notice them, continue to argue, and Violet and Jack quickly exited the cabin, giddy with their successful robbery.
"You'd think Jones would put a little more effort into the security of his chest, given the fact that it keeps him alive," Violet said, following Jack back out onto the deck of the Dutchman. It seemed to have been plunged into even more chaos since the last time they'd sprinted across it. Jack passed her the chest, and she clutched it tightly. "I wonder if maybe having tentacles for a nose has finally gotten to him-"
"Well, well, well. Look at this, boys. Two little lost birds who never learned to fly." The voice cut through Violet's words like a blade, and she drew in a sharp breath, her hand moving to the hilt of her cutlass. Davy Jones stood before them, leering down at where they stood. So this was it, then. The confrontation she'd been waiting for. It was finally time to settle Jack's debt once and for all.
"Look at this, Jack. A fish who never learned to swim." Violet knew the jibe was pathetic, but she froze under his beady-eyed gaze and it was the only thing that came to mind. First she insults Teague and now Davy Jones? What the hell is wrong with her?
"As I always say, love, it's never too late to learn," Jack said, his eyes glinting. How was he always able to be so calm in situations like these? She was about to say something when suddenly Jack wrapped an arm around her waist, the strange gesture catching her off-guard. Before Jones could react, Jack whacked a low-hanging rope next to them, and then they were rising, up, up, up, and Violet dug her fingernails into the wood of the chest she clutched in her arms.
"I feel like flying on ropes is a common occurrence for you," she yelled breathlessly as they launched up and onto one of the masts of the Dutchman's sails.
"It's better with you here," Jack said just as they landed, and Violet clutched the barnacled wood with her free hand in a desperate attempt to stay balanced. As she peered shakily over the mast, she was vaguely aware that every inch of her was soaking wet with rainwater, and she could barely make out the rush of British soldiers and fish-pirates that swarmed the deck below. "Escaping is always more gratifying when someone's around to witness it, and all that."
From their perch on the mast, they could see the whole battle unfolding across the sea below them, and Violet drew in a sharp breath at the spectacle. All around them, hundreds of British vessels clashed with ships flying worn pirate sails, splintering wood and ocean spray shooting up into a shower of debris with every cannon shot that erupted through the stormy air. In the center of it all stood a massive maelstrom, formed from cloud and ocean twisted like threads into a swirling tornado.
"That… does not seem natural." Violet pointed out the storm and Jack merely shook his head, looking at the cyclone with wide eyes.
"It seems they've been awfully busy without us," Jack remarked. "Do you think they try to ruin things, or does it just happen of its own accord?"
"The chest! Hand it over!" Suddenly, as if out of thin air, Davy Jones appeared on the mast in front of them, his tentacles slick with the pelting rain. He looked like a creature out of a nightmare, a sea monster escaped from the depths it belonged to, and the rage in his gaze only added to his terrifying presence as he glared at the chest in Violet's arms.
"We can set you free, mate!" Jack called through the rain, pointing to the chest, but Jones merely smirked, a hint of sadness behind his fiery eyes.
"My freedom was forfeit long ago," Jones said coldly, and for a moment, Violet thought he might back down, but he raised his sword with a cold ferocity and began to charge, nearly knocking the two of them off their perch. "Ahhh!"
Quickly, Violet pulled forth her cutlass and Jack his sword, the screech of cold metal echoing through the gray air. Violet could barely make out who was Jack and who was Jones through the downpour, and she found herself slashing blindly as Jones advanced, one arm wrapped tightly around the chest. Davy Jones was too skilled a swordsman to be taken down by two self-taught pirates, and he fended the two of them off as their blades clashed, only for Violet and Jack to double back with renewed vigor.
"You can do nothing without the key!" Jones called, blocking one of Violet's blows with a sharp clang.
"I already have the key!" Jack grinned, and Violet could see his gold teeth glinting even through the rain.
"You do?" Violet asked, taken by surprise. The last she'd heard, Jack merely had a picture of a key, one that he'd apparently gone to great lengths to retrieve.
"Of course he doesn't," Jones growled, and suddenly, one of his tentacles extended from the others to reveal a key hanging on it by a silver chain.
"Oh. That key." Before Violet could register what was happening, Jack reached out and slice both the key and the tentacle clean off, and Jones cried out in painful rage. Violet reached out desperately to catch the falling limb, but her effort was futile, and it plummeted down with the rain to the deck below.
"Really, Jack?" Violet grunted as she stabbed her sword forward, but instead of piercing flesh, it was met with a sharp crack, and she looked down helplessly to see it lodged straight into Davy Jones' crab claw. "No, wait-" she began, but then her sword, her beautiful cutlass, the one she'd had her whole life, was twisting, bending like it was made of rubber, and Davy Jones folded it clean in half with his damned claw.
"Oh, mate, she's about to be furious," Jack remarked sadly, jabbing his own sword forward, but Jones simply threw Violet's blade away and repeated his assault with Jack's weapon, twisting it into a right angle and tossing it aside.
Suddenly, the ship gave a great lurch, and Violet tried to reach for the mast with her free hand, but it wasn't enough, and she could feel her feet slip beneath her. Frantically, she grabbed with one hand, the other holding tightly to the chest, and she was falling, suspended in thin air, until suddenly the chest was ripped upwards and it took all she had not to let go of it.
"Let go, Charles!" It was Jones, holding tightly to the chest and shaking it, her body flailing in the air with every shake of his claw-like arm. "This is not your fight!"
"Unfortunately, it's his-" she yelled through gritted teeth, jerking her head at Jack who was trying to regain his balance on the rain-slick mast as she dug her fingernails into the slippery chest. "Which makes it mine!"
"Then you're more of a fool than I thought!" Jones ceased shaking for a moment, and Violet readjusted her grip quickly. That was a mistake. With one hearty jolt of the crab claw, Violet was sent flying off the chest and down, down, down to the deck below. "Love does nothing but destroy!"
As she fell, Violet wondered vaguely if she'd survive crashing onto the deck. A broken bone wasn't so bad, was it? She had just resigned herself to her fate when, suddenly, she smacked straight into a cold body, and she clung onto it for dear life as it swung away.
"Well, that's one way to escape a fight." The cool voice of Violet's companion whistled through the wind next to her ear, and she froze, her grip tightening on the man.
"Norrington?" She looked incredulously at him, but there was no mistaking it. It seemed that Norrington had swung across the ship just in time to catch her fall.
"Afternoon, Charles." He looked down pointedly at where her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and she was about to make an excuse when they smacked straight into the railing and tumbled to the deck, attracting the attention of about six fish-pirates.
Quickly, Violet jumped to her feet, distancing herself as far as she could from Norrington. Friend or not, there was no need for him to be getting the wrong idea about things. There was already too much rivalry between him and Jack as it was.
"You're welcome for the rescue. What would you do without me?" Norrington pulled his sword from its sheath and grins at her, quickly turning on his feet to stab an approaching pirate.
"I'd probably be a lot better off, what with all your constant chattering." Violet suddenly realized that her prized sword now lay bent in half at the bottom of the ocean, and she quickly grabbed the pistol off Norrington's belt and began to shoot blindly through the rain, which, in retrospect, was probably not the safest move.
"Really, Charles? My pistol?" Norrington shouted his indignation over the sound of Violet's gunshots, and she shot an apologetic smile over her shoulder. Soon, the six encroaching pirates were dead on the ground, and Norrington's pistol was fresh out of gunpowder. "And my powder?"
"Look, I never said I was a good shot." Violet turned back to Norrington, taking the lull in the action to describe the situation. "I've got no idea where Jack is, my cutlass is now shark bait, and the chest is-" Violet looked back to Davy Jones, but there was no sign of him. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted good old Will Turner, the chest in one arm and the other locked in combat with a barnacled old pirate who passed a strong resemblance to the former. "Ah. Apparently it's over there."
"Well, who's it going to be? Will or your lover?" Norrington points to where Jack was being chased across the deck by none other than Davy Jones, the two of them bashing each other with their blunt blades and obviously in trouble.
"Jack can take care of himself. The chest is what's most important." Violet quickly ripped her attention away from Jack and back to Will, grabbing Norrington's arm and praying that she made the right choice. "Now, let's go, commodore."
"I thought I was a pirate now," Norrington said petulantly as they sprinted across the deck, and Violet pulled a sword from one of the dead pirates to use as a temporary measure until she could get herself a proper blade.
"Yes, well, where's the fun in calling you that?" Violet and Norrington reached Will's side just as Bootstrap Bill lunged at him a second time, his hand clutched around a barnacled knife. "Will! The chest!"
"Violet?" Will turned at her voice, but the gesture gave Bootstrap an opportunity, and the older Turner took advantage of it. Violet saw the blade falling rapidly towards Will's torso, and she jumped forward, throwing out her sword until it clashed heartily with Bootstrap's knife. Quickly, she raised her sword, ready to slice the man's head clean off. "No, stop!" Suddenly, Will had grabbed her wrist, and she tried to shake him off, watching as Bootstrap readied himself for another blow. "Violet, I made him a promise! That's my father!" Will quickly let go of Violet's wrist and grabbed Bootstrap's hand, driving both it and the blade of his knife into the railing of the Dutchman.
"Where's Elizabeth?" Will demanded, giving one last mournful look at his father before turning back to Violet and Norrington, who were staring at him. The boy had fire in his eyes, a fire that burned and raged and seemed to consume his whole form.
"The chest, Will. Give it to me." Violet held out a hand, but Will merely scoffed, tucking the chest closer to his side.
"I need it to free my father. All of this has been for him, don't you realize that? I can't abandon him now, not like this." Will's voice had a hint of sadness, and Violet sighed, his resolve obviously never going to change.
"You don't want a lifetime of servitude, Will. What about Elizabeth?" Violet looked around the ship, searching for the girl, but the damned rain blurred her vision. Why was it still raining?
"My wife understands my plight. I'm begging you to do the same." Will said the words as a declaration, and Violet's eyes widened. Wife? Was he telling the truth? Had Elizabeth and Will somehow found the time to be married while she was locked up in a jail cell? I never like to go to war while in love.
"Well, evidently the two of you have quite a long-standing history. I would just like to remind you that we are, in fact, at war," Norrington said sharply, elbowing Violet. Looking up at him, she noticed a flicker of hurt beneath his gaze, and she remembered that he, too, had once loved Elizabeth. Funny how it all turned out in the end.
"You'll see no mercy from me!" Suddenly, the voice of Davy Jones rang through the ship, and Violet, Will, and Norrington turned to see Elizabeth holding her sword tentatively in front of her, Jones advancing in her direction, brandishing his crab claw.
"No," Will breathed, and before Violet could react, he was on his way over to Elizabeth, pulling forth his own blade.
"He'll need help," she said, and Norrington nodded. Quickly, the two of them followed Will, reaching Elizabeth just in the nick of time. Davy Jones was leaning over Elizabeth, her back to the stairwell. There was no escape. Violet was about to call, to shout, to run in front of her friend, when suddenly, a harsh scraping noise filled the ship, and Violet turned, horrified, to see Will turning stabbing his blade through the chest of the tentacled monster who was once, undoubtedly, a man.
"Will, no!" Violet was at his side quicker than she could think, and Davy Jones looked down at the blade buried in his chest, a sickening leer on his face.
"Did you forget, Turner?" Jones slowly drew the blade from his chest, staring at it all the while, and Violet turned quickly to Elizabeth, who's eyes were round and full of fear. "I'm a heartless wretch." With a force that could only come from the depths of the ocean, Jones kicked Will back against the railing, and Violet pulled out her makeshift blade, drawing in a deep breath.
"So am I," she hissed, and she drove it forward, aiming for Jones' head, but at the last moment, he turned, and her blade sunk through his shoulder with a terrible squelch.
"You've crossed me for the last time, Violet Charles." Jones turned to her, then to Norrington, then to Will and Elizabeth. "The lot of you are a pathetic bunch. So governed by your hearts and love." Suddenly, Jones lunged for Violet, and she threw up her hands, but it was too late. She was sent flying backward, her head hitting the railing with a sickening crack. As she slumped to the deck, her vision swam with raindrops and stars, a throbbing pain echoing through her skull. So easily put out of commission, Charles? Pathetic, indeed.
"Do you fear death?" Jones' tentacled face filled her ruined vision, leering at her, and she shuddered, trying to gather her thoughts through the pain and the blood and the rain.
"Do you?" The voice was like a lifeline, a tether thrown out to Violet, drowning at sea, and she grabbed hold of it, reaching out a blurred hand to Jack Sparrow. She could barely make out the objects in his hands: in one, a knife, and in the other, a bloodied mass that looked like- that was- "Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of one's hand." The heart of Davy Jones.
"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow," Jones hissed, and Violet looked frantically at Jack, her heart twisting and adding to her pain. Don't do it, Jack. Don't leave me. She wanted to scream, to say something, anything, but it was like she forgot how to speak, an invisible pressure forcing her down on the deck. What had he done to her?
"Cruel is a matter of perspective." Jack turned to Violet, and for a moment, their eyes met, a million unsaid words filtering between them. He had to do it, she knew that, but it hurt so bad. In all her years as a pirate, never had she felt this way, like something was being ripped out of her chest, and she couldn't help but cry out, the sound filling the ship like a mourning wail. Jack's eyes filled with tears at the sound, and she knew hers were, too, and everything was blurred shapes and fuzzy edges. Don't do it, Jack. Don't leave me.
"Is it, now?" Jones' voice rang out over the buzzing in her ears, and suddenly, he was turning and lunging, and for a moment, Violet was certain he was going to kill her, and she used the last of her energy to pull herself out of the way, but it wasn't needed: he was aiming for Will.
The next few moments were a blur. One minute, Jones was swinging the sword directly for Will, the metal glinting with rainwater, and the next, someone had leapt out of nowhere, throwing themselves in front of Will like a shield, and suddenly everything was a mess of red and salt and screams.
Violet forced herself to get to her feet, stumbling over to where Will lay. She shook her head vehemently to clear her vision, and it was then that she realized Will was unwounded. He looked just as stunned as she was, propping himself up on his elbows, and Violet wondered if somehow, miraculously, Davy Jones had missed.
It was then that she saw him, crumpled on the ground beside Will, and she fell to her knees, the sight of him knocking both her voice and her breath from her.
James Norrington lay on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, a rusted blade lodged in his chest, gasping for breath as the rain poured down around him.
"No!" Violet screamed louder than she ever had before, the sound filling the ship in a piercing wail that seemed to block out everything else, every cry, every slice of a sword, and she was vaguely aware of Will, rushing forward to clash blades with Jones, the sound muted and dull. "No, no, please, God, no…"
"Violet…" Norrington's voice was raspy, his breathing harsh and jagged, and Violet clutched his hand for dear life, tears slipping down her cheeks and mingling with the rain. "I thought- I thought he was aiming for you."
"Shh." Violet was shaking, trying to redirect every ounce of her strength into Norrington. "You're going to be fine. It's alright, Norrington, you're okay…"
"I don't-" Norrington drew in a sharp breath, the sound like a knife to Violet's heart. "I don't owe you any longer."
"No." Violet smiled weakly through her tears, holding his hand tighter. "But I can't lose you. Please, hold on, you have to hold on, Norrington!"
"It's James," Norrington said, squeezing her hand back. "Call me- call me James."
"I'm so sorry, James," Violet breathed, shaking her head. Don't leave me. "I'm sorry for all of it."
"You have- nothing to be sorry for." Norrington's voice grew thinner and thinner, like a string stretched too tightly over a ridge, and Violet knew she didn't have much time. "You, Will- you both had to live. You have someone who needs you alive." Norrington looks over her shoulder, and suddenly, Jack and Elizabeth are at Violet's side, kneeling down onto the slippery deck.
"Love, the heart is his only chance." Jack's tone is drenched in a sadness she's never heard from him before, and Violet looked at the beating organ in his palm, then turned back to Norrington. Her head felt like it was full of stuffing, full of emptiness.
"I can't lose him, Jack. I can't." Violet shakes her head and stares into Norrington's fading eyes, watching as a tear slips down his cheek. "We have to do it."
"I know," Jack said, and Violet looked up at him as she sobbed, looked up at the face of this man who needed her alive, this man who she needed alive, and nodded.
"Do it." She didn't let go of Norrington's hand, but Jack took his other, gently slipping his broken blade into the commodore's fingers, and with one heave, he helped Norrington stab the blade into the beating heart.
Violet didn't watch Jones seize, didn't watch the surprise in his eyes as he turned back to them, didn't watch his tentacles twitch as he staggered to the side of his ship, didn't watch as he screamed the name of the woman he'd loved before tumbling to his death.
All she could do was lower her forehead to Norrington's hand and cry like the world was ending. The head wound and the rain and the pain had caught up to her, drowning her in a sea of nothingness and everything-ness all at once, and she wept, the tears falling onto Norrington's skin. His cold, lifeless skin.
It didn't work. He's dead. My best friend in this world is dead.
The last thing she felt before plunging into the darkness was Norrington's skin against her forehead, Jack's arms around her, his voice in her ear, telling her that love, we have to go, and please, love, I can't lose you too, and then the world exploded and she faded into nothing.
A/N: One more chapter left of this story :( I cried writing this but it had to be done. This was another major change I really wanted to make since the beginning of this story, because Norrington as Captain of the Dutchman is literally my favorite :) I'll see you all next time and I hope you're staying safe as best you can. Love to you all!