Authors note: This story is a collabortation between two authors. This is our first Pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction as well as the first we had ever written together. This piece was started before DMC was released, so this story has been forced to become somewhat of an AU. Some character's, characterizations, ect may not be exact. And we apologies if that happens. We tried our best. Please note also we tried to incorperate as must accurate Pirate slang and terminology as possible. If you do not understand something please feel free to ask. Currently this is a romance free story. However depending on how it plays out and input from readers that may change in the future. While being free from romance there are still adult images and theme's and we caution readers to heed the ratings. All comments and critisms are very much appreciated. Thank you, and we hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer : We do not claim, claim to own or hold any rights to Pirates of the Caribbean, the characters therein, or anything else affiliated. Those are the sole proptery of Disney, and Disney corperations. We are making no profit from this story. It is simply a piece of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Random names, places, and non-cannon characters as well as the plot and story itself however are our own and we would ask you please do not take them.
Summary : There are many powers at work in the world. Many things that can tip the delicate balance and plunge the world into chaos.For a Pirate such annoyances are never considered.But when the balance is broken and the world teeters on the brink, what is a Pirate to do? The winds and tides have changed. Jack & Will find themselves thrown into an olympic sized adventure that threatens the lives of every man at sea. They are left with little choice. Save a soul. Change a future. Or watch the world crumble.
"Child of the Storm"
Chapter Two : "Message in a Bottle"
"Sail ho!" A call rang out from the crows nest, a severely tanned hand pointing to the far off horizon, looking glass in hand.
"Captain!" The young pirate cupped fingers around his mouth repeating his cry through the raging storm and rain, desperately clinging to the mizzenmast and lead line tied securely about his waist as the boat rocked without mercy. "Gibbs! Anna! Ship on the horizon!" Hawkeye bellowed, relieved as the chocolate skinned vixen registered his words. Turning from her position at the helm she squinted against the punishing water falling in cascades from the sky gaze partially shielded by a drown and flopping hat brim; trying to spot the dot of white sails. This was NOT what they needed right now. With most of their sails taken in, Captain and first mate occupied and or out of commission, and a storm bordering on a hurricane trying to rip them apart a battle was the last thing the Pearl could tolerate.
All pirates were greedy by nature, but even they weren't fool hearty enough to attempt a pillage in so foul of weather. It was not wise to risk dropping sails in this kind of torrent either, but if they wanted to avoid a possible battle they would have to risk it to out run the trailing clipper. They could not simply reply on the hope that the other boat had yet to spot them.
"What colors be she flyin'!" Annamaria replied her voice high and shrill through the turbulent waters, hurling the wheel in an eastward direction away from the fast approaching vessel. Grabbing a passing sailors arm, she ordered. "Fetch the Captain, we got trouble."
The lookout adjusted the looking glass, trying to pull the new ship into focus and peer through the salty sheets and gale attacking him from his high teetering vantage point. A battered scarf whipped in the winds, slapping darkened cheeks and battling scruffy greasy locks for domination in obscuring the man's eyes. It was hard to make out the little vessel as it was let alone its flag and colors. The sun had all but vanished and the sea rolled and tossed the Black Pearl like so many scraps of wood, rocking her down to her very core as the winds and waves punished her deck and hull. Vaguely through the mists a flash of blue and red caught the young man's eyes.
"British sir... She's Royal navy!" Hawk called with a sinking feeling.
"Bloody hell. Load cannons! Muskets and pistols at the ready! Drop all canvas! If she turns prepare to fire!" Annamaria barked out orders left and right, hurling the wheel again, trying to compensate for the crushing waves as the ship was thrown back and forth. "Is she following!" The deck of the infamous pirate ship broke out into a scurry and flurry of motion, sailors running left and right in a mad dash to fulfill orders. Several hands rushed into the bowls of the ship, fetching muskets and dry powder, while others climbed the ratlines and main braces into the delicate web work of rope, wood and canvas to loose the curled sails. "Aye, she's turnin'!" The man replied, training the eyeglass again upon the naval vessel as she turned and marked a heading directly for the Pearl. There was no doubt the pirate ship had indeed been spotted and was now, or perhaps all along, the enemy boats target.
"Make quick ye lubbers! Get those shots 'ligned!"
The billow of black spread fast over head, the sound of soggy canvases and futtock shrouds whipping and snapping in the torrent of hail and waters surprisingly loud against their ears. Metal clicked and scrapped as the cannons were tied, positioned and prepared a powder monkey and gunner manning each large barreled gun.
A peculiar sight danced through the obscuring rain, causing the young lookout to pause in wonder.
"Sir! She.. She's running up the white flag!"
"What?... "
"Blast is all to the depths! Jack can't ye do anything 'bout this infernal rocking?" The irritated surgeon snapped as the needle he had been trying to feed through his patients ripped flesh missed, instead scrapping into a toned and cold belly.
Again.
Will was still unconscious, and blessedly so, spread near bare and soaked atop Jack borrowed bed. His flesh had turned an ill faint blue and blood still flowed from the puncture in his side. Though thankfully considerably less then earlier. The graying surgeon had managed to dig the bullet out without too much trouble, and thoroughly cleanse the torn and soiled skin. The hard part now seemed to be stitching the deep wound closed. The Captain had refrained him from cauterizing the injury, and while stitching was not that common nor useful a practice, he obeyed. These conditions while poor for the current task were even worse if not neigh impossible for the alternative. "Right mate. Let me just run out an' tell Poseidon to get that great bloody trident out ta his arse and grant us fair sea's." Jack mumbled distractedly from the opposite corner of his cabin. "He'd like that..." Was added as an after thought, spoken quietly under his breath.
Carefully he riffled through the healers tools and supplies, picking at the gauze wrappings before the man's apprentice smacked his hand away. "Stay out ta the'e." Spurned by the young lad Sparrow stepped back raising his hands in surrender with a swagger and jingle of assorted trinkets.
"Good then. Ye do that. Ye might prove useful for once." The old man grumbled, carefully pulling the thrice miss placed needle back out through skewered skin by the tail end of the thick cat gut strings. Several small cuts and punctures dotted the young first mates stomach and hip from all the missed stitches the man had attempted due to the savagely swaying ship. Beads and thin trails of scarlet life's blood smearing the once perfect skin.
The doctor adjusted his perversely large monocle, using the piece as a magnifying glass and counter agent for his poor eye sight, pulling the now free needle and thread taught before lowering again to the wound for another go. He met resistance at first as the offensively thick needle struggled through a large chunk of skin before he managed to shove the tip into the other side of the wound then back out, yanking in semi soft short tugs to tighten the line before securing the wire in odd looking knots.
The ship lurched again, surprisingly hard this time just as the surgeon leaned in for the next stitch, resulting in the huge needle stabbing through his own finger. "Bleedin' hell!"
The man hissed, dropping his tools with the outcry as blood immediately swelled to the surface. Pausing his task he dunked his thumb in a near by cup of rum disinfecting the wound with a grumble before quickly wrapping the digit.
Jack looked up curiously at the scream but didn't comment, instead turning his attention to his momentarily forgotten torn coat. Eyeing the hole, the cut and frayed edges of which were now stained red, the pirate made an odd face, shrugging out of the article in one smooth motion. Examining the damage more closely now Jack frowned, noting for the first time the sting in his arm as he mourned the wound to his favorite jacket. Slinging the discarded item across the back of his chair he tossed his hat atop the desk procuring a large clean cloth from the doctors supplies before the boy could shoe him away again. Tearing off a long strip he ripped the hole in his shirt wider, before searching out a bottle of rum to sterilize the injury.
Dark eyes searched his cabin for his favorite drink, spotting the only remaining bottle of liquor next to and belonging to the busily working surgeon.
Gaze darting between the young boy helping the old salt and the surgeon, Jack bit his tongue in concentration, hands raising as he tip toed nonchalantly behind the two distracted men. Feet moving stealthily, he moved in a smooth quiet motion, for once in his life, careful not to jingle or creak a rotting floor board. Sparrow grinned as his fingers curled around the cool neck of the bottle, swiftly snatching it up and hurrying back to his navigation's desk before either men could steal the drink back. Triumphantly Jack beamed gold teeth flashing in the dim candle light as he grasped the cork with his K-nines, pulling it free with a pop before spitting out the spongy material.
Glancing at the wound once again in his bicep, Jack paused, then shrugged throwing back his head and gulped down half the bottle in one swig, a healthy hue of red coloring his tan cheeks from the liquor. Satisfied he set down the bottle splashing a little rum on his fingers before smearing the graze. Picking up the forgotten scrap of white material he was in the middle of wrapping the wound, one corner in his teeth the other grasped in his hand as the doors to the cabin suddenly slammed open.
Jumping in surprise he glanced up at the drenched and panting pirate. "Wha ith thit?" He mumbled around the fabric, paused in mid motion.
"Cap'n, a ship sir! On our tail." The man sputtered, his scraggly beard dripping dirty water onto Jack's stolen rugs. Sparrows lip twitched in irritation. Both at the news and the man.
Quickly tying off the haphazard bandage he grabbed his pistol, shoving the item into the waist of his pants before hurrying out into the storm.
Plodding up the stairs rather noisily, trained eyes noticed the aimed and ready cannons and the full sails overhead. Squinting chocolate orbs, Jack eyed the ocean all about them searching out the telltale signs of a foreign ship. "Captain, tis a British ship of the fleet! Coming up on our larboard side." Anna informed the man loudly as he hurried to the helm, turning in the informed direction. A hand raised to protect his kohl smeared gaze, the other reaching possessively to the wooden wheel of his ship.
Sure enough there she was.
A tall proud clipper ship, a sixty gunner complete with pristine white sails and little men in silly red coats.
"Load cannons and prepare to fire as soon as she's in range!" Jack barked out, pushing the woman aside and taking the helm, booted feet widely planted for support against the wind. "Aye sir! Load the cannons!" The crew repeated as they hurried to reciprocate the command. "Captain!" Annamaria grasped Jacks billowing sleeve, leaning close to speak into his ear trying not to shout.
"Jack!"
Pausing he turned enough to eye her with a quizzical gaze, turning the wheel in the process as a hard wave tossed them hard South.
"She's waving the white flag sir." The African cimaroon informed, urgently, a confused look behind her pitch eyes. Jack's brow knit beneath his signature red bandana, turning from his post to again eye the approaching vessel, squinting to spy said flag. He hesitated for a moment weighing his options and course of action swiftly in his backwards brain. "Drop anchor." The eccentric pirate ordered, holding fast to the helm as she was jerked about in the violent unforgiving sea, returning his attention to the ocean ahead. "Jack!" Anna's eyes widened in surprise. Dropping anchor in a storm like this was a fatal mistake by most means.
Jack met her with a serious look. "Drop. Anchor."
"A.. Aye.. Drop anchor!" She barked out to the rest of the crew, exchanging apprehensive looks with Gibbs as he climbed the sloping drenched stairs to the sterncastle. "What the devil is goin' on?" The vixen of a woman just shook her head, hurrying down the poop deck to the capstan, releasing the anchor into the churning waters. The vessel lurched as the huge metal weight hit bottom, and caught, throwing several men from their feet and skidding across the slick deck.
Jack could all but hear the surgeon cursing his name to the seven circles of hell and back. He smirked.
"Muskets at the ready! Prepare for anything! Do NOT fire unless I give the signal!" The captain ordered, rocking on unsteady feet as the ship continued to lurch and rock dangerously with the waves. The British vessel approached uncomfortably fast and Jack could all but taste the tension in the air mixed with the salty tang of rain. "Hold!" Anna called out, snatching a musket from a nearby gunner, leveling it upon her arm and aimed at the nearing boat. Despite the order not to shoot, she'd be damned if she would be caught unawares.
""Sparrow!"
Jack looked up at the calling of his name, a prideful look upon his features as he turned to face the nearing ship. Releasing the wheel he left Cotton to watch the tiller and neared the edge of his boat, wrapping a hand in the rigging for security the other atop the binnacle as he gazed into the darkness. Under the rain and gales it was only the ships sails and lamps that made it even remotely visible. A man with a white wig and red coat stood atop the forecastle of the Naval ship a large copper calling horn in hand and raised to the sailors mouth.
"Sparrow! Peace! We come with a message for William Turner!" The naval officer called into the darkness, an obviously nervous quiver to his voice. The soldier must have been young, and never faced with the aspect of Pirates before this meeting.
Jack's eyebrow raised in interest. "Oh really... What's yer message!" He replied the last into the wind, calling back without the help of the enhancing tool. The man did not seem to hear his reply. "May we send a man over!" The youth called again, the words ringing oddly through the winds and waters. Sparrow tapped his bejeweled fingers against the wood of his proud vessel, lips puckered oddly and head cocked back ignoring the punishing rain as he contemplated. "Cap'n?" Gibbs questioned, moving to his place next to the unpredictable pirate, glancing jittery between his superior and the ship across the way. It was easily noticed that the Naval vessel was heavily armed and certainly held at the ready should the pirate ship decide to forgo talking and simply take her down as an easy target. The tension was almost tangible between the two ships. The rocking and roaring sea adding to the unease. Jack's eyes narrowed before he turned from his perch. "Let 'im aboard."
"Captain?" Gibbs nearly jumped at the order, glancing to the waiting galleon before returning to his captain. "Aye sir." He swallowed and complied at the look he received for his nervousness. Turning to the caller he repeated the order.
Soon a small cockboat was rowing unsteadily between the two ships the poor sailor in charge of delivering the message drenched to the bone and shaking. Wether from fear or cold was uncertain. "Lower ladder!" the bo'sun ordered as the little long boat neared. The ropes slapped against the side of the Pearl and a man with a musket manned the line. The British soldier threw his docking rope to a waiting deckhand before ascending the ladder with trepidation. The young blue eyed youth noted the cocked gun immediately and inched closer to the edge of the pirate vessel. "I have a message for a Mr. Turner." He repeated the earlier news, a satchel slung at his hip a hand atop it protectively.
"Ah lad!" Jack called out almost cheerily, descending the castle stairs. Swaggering arrogantly, the pirate exuded an air of darkness as he neared the shaking young man, his intention to further intimidate the poor lad. Thumb hooked in his sash purposefully close to his waiting pistol he smirked snarkily. Though through the rain Jack made the mistake of not paying attention to where his feet landed and soon found himself tripped and face first atop a port hole, boot thudding loudly on the coaming. Hurriedly he scurried to his feet, turning lost for a moment as his gun had slid free of his pants disappearing over the side of the ship. "Bugger..." Squatting down he leaned arround the mizzenmast, kohl colored eyes squinting and searching the shadowed area's of the ship for his lost gun.
"Cap'n?" Kursor cleared his throat, reminding the absent minded man of their visitor.
Jacks blinked and near sprang to his feet, giving up the search and snapped his attention to the red coat twitching nervously next to the sheave hole; watching as the youth swallowed. The grin once again returned to his tanned lips. Swaying the rest of the way to the intruder Jack eyed him up and down, the bangles in his hair glinting in the lamp light and jingling as he leaned uncomfortably close to the shorter man's face.
"What's yer business boy?" He slurred in a deep tone, watching as the boy recoiled slightly from his rank rum soaked breath. "I.. I have a message for a M-Mr. Turner." The limey replied, fingers tightening about the leather satchel nervously, wide aquamarine eyes darting about the collected scallywags and all the armed and ready weapons. "Aye ye said that. What's yer message?" The odd pirate swayed back, shifting his booted feet to a wide gated stance intimidating the lad further as he peered almost menacingly down his nose.
"I am supposed to tell Turner, no other."
"Mr. Turner is... indisposed currently. You will give me yer message or get back in yer little boat and row home... While ye can." The last was added simply as a scare tactic. The sadist in Jack liked watching the poor boy squirm in badly hidden terror. The sailor was positively quaking now, eyes larger then sand dollars.
"I.. uhn.."
Hurriedly the boy opened the sack at his side, shaking hands riffling through the contents before producing a leather bound stack of letters. He was hesitant to offer them to the strange man before him however. "I... regret to inform, the Governor of Port Royal has passed on. It was his last order these be delivered to one, M-Mister William Turner who he assumed would be aboard the Black Pearl."
"He assumed right... So that old stuffed shirt finally kicked it ay?" Jack smirked, scratching at his jaw in amusement before snatching the leather package before the boy could mewl a word of protest. Though the young man's eyes hardened if only a little at the flippant way the pirate addressed the deceased Governor. "You will address him with proper respect sir!" The boy bristled with anger, his chest puffing out in an affronted display of faulty courage. The pirates eyebrow raised and several of the crew laughed.
"Oh will I now?..." Before the eye could detect Jack stole a pistol from a nearby sailors belt cocking and pointing the gun at the lads forehead. "Is that all a yer message boy?"
The naval officer swallowed and nodded before stopping in mid motion digging out another item from his bag. "Thi... This is for him as well.." He offered the item shakily. It was a small box, velvet covered and square in shape, no bigger then the lads palm. Jack took the item and tucked it into his pocket.
"That all?"
"Y.. yes sir." He spoke with a sinking feeling in his gut, eyes going cross eyed for a moment as he studied the barrel of the pistol leveled at his forehead before clenching them closed, awaiting the shot that would end his life. Nodding Sparrow smacked the boys hat into his face and turned, tucking the stolen weapon into his sash. "Good. Get off me boat... Oh and tell yer Captain.. If he so much as thinks of following we'll sink her. " With that he left without another word on the matter.
"Mr. Gibbs, weigh anchor and resume heading at all haste!"
"Aye!"
The boy jumped, peeking one eye open and after the retreating man as he hesitantly straightened his affronted tricorn. Hearing the orders and quiet threat the officer hurriedly scurried over the side of the ship and back into his little waiting dingy, startled and worried of being stranded on the notorious pirates ship. Within moments the anchor was hauled aboard and the rocking Pearl was once more cutting a swath through the turbulent waters, leaving the naval vessel and life boat swiftly behind. "Was that completely necessary Cap'n?" Gibbs mumbled as Jack passed on his way to his quarters. The captain smirked, gracing the older man with the pirates equivalent of a wink, one hand settling on the handle of the stolen pistol. "Got ta keep me reputation don't I?" Gibbs laughed and nodded.
"Aye."
Content with himself Jack sashayed across the deck, swaying easily with the waves instead of against them. "Now, whatter ye hidin' hm?." Jack mused, examining the soggy contents in his hands as he made his way back to his cabin.
Throwing open the doors he plopped down at his desk, tossing the velveteen box and leather bound stack atop the wood. Eyeing the sealed letters addressed to his first mate Jack pried at the leather ties, unfolding the package. His curiosity was piqued as what looked like letters of Marque unfolded bound tightly about a smaller stack of simple hand written and sealed letters. Interesting. Separating the personal letters from the letters of the king, Jack nonchalantly slipped the signed letters of marque into his sash tucking them away. For safe keeping of course. His attentions then turned to the box, instead of the neatly labeled personal letters. Opening the item curiously he found a small folded note and a sparkling gold ring inside. Pirate eyes brightened at the glitter of swag and fingers tempted to snatch moved to take the jeweled bobble.
"Cap'n?"
Jack jumped and slammed the box closed. "I didn't touch it!" Wide eyes turned spotting the surgeon, who was eyeing him with an amused and knowing look. Jack cleared his throat and set the box and letters into a drawer turning to face the man, straightening his rumpled and soaked clothing.
"I done all I can fer now. Just let him rest." The surgeon seemed the order the last, eyeing Jack with a sharp knowing look only an elder seemed capable of pervaying, before turning with a nod and left. His apprentice followed hurriedly, arms full of his masters tools and supplies. Sparrow watched the man go before a quizzical look marred his features glancing back and forth from his occupied bed and the now closed door.
"And where am I s'possed to sleep?"
Hello?
All about him was gray.
Where am I?
A soft strangely warm gray.
Is anyone there?
Perhaps like a blanket his deceased mother had once knit him as a child, yet significantly bigger. Enfolding his body, smothering but not choking. Hello? It was a steady presence, and anything beyond its veil of muted color was vague, far away and unreal. All he knew was warmth, numbness, and darkened gray.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had a body. He knew he had toes, and fingers, eyes and ears. But he could not seem to feel them. Nor attach senses to the oddly disconnected receptors. What's going on? There was simply nothing but the strange grey and odd warmth. And disjointed thoughts. Will slowly became aware of his own mind again. Thoughts and memories fragmented and shattered before his minds eye sluggishly trying to reassmble into some form of clarity. He was alone. Surrounded by a quiet nothing. No floor, no ceiling, no body. Absolutely nothing substantial to speak of.
And somehow, this was not right. That much he knew.
He did not know where he was, why he was here, nor how he had come to be in this place. But he knew he was not meant to reside there. He had a reality to return to. A home. Friends perhaps. A life. The problem was, for the life of him, Will did not know how to return to it. The young man could not recall the events that led to his strange imprisonment in the murky color of nothingness. He could not remember the year, the place he came from, not even his name. For that matter, for all he knew he could very well be dead. He simply could not remember. The possibility was likely, he could have somehow been killed. It was not that far fetched. But from what he could remember of his life, this should not be heaven. Nor hell for that matter. He had been taught at an early age, the ways of religion and the hereafter. And this resembled nothing he had ever heard spoken of before.
It was strange... and lonely.
Offensively lonely.
Will felt the urge to call out. To plead for someone, anyone. Something to fill the void of aloneness. But he did not know how. He could not seem to force his unreal mouth to move. To form words or sounds. So he cried out with his mind. Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?
I am here child.
The sudden voice startled the young man. It was booming, authorative, yet somehow still soft and caring... Almost... familiar... But somehow not. He could not distinct the voice. It was neither male, nor female. Nor someone he could recall knowing in his lost reality. A light appeared above him suddenly, bright, blinding white with hints of silver and red. It was beautiful and yet painful to look into. Yet he could not look away. Hello?
I am here.
It was louder, yet softer, strong and warm. It caressed his senses like silk and honey. Sweet and comforting. Vaguely he felt chills run down a spine he could not seem to place. And warm gentle arms enfold his awareness. You are safe.
Who are you? Wh.. Where am I?
Shhh You are safe child. Rest well... I will allow no harm to come to you.
But.. who are you?
Someone...
Who is coming for you...
Wh... what?
A chilling laugh filled the void of grey. The comforting warmth of the voice melting into a terrifying sound of deranged power.
The beautiful light broke suddenly shattering into a thousand pieces, shards raining down onto his awareness in a stinging display. Every piece of strange fragmented light felt like glass piercing skin, and pain mounted higher and higher as more fell and cleaved him apart. He wanted to scream. But could not.
Images soon accompanied the broken splinters of white and silver, memories he realized. Flashes of events, faces, people, things. Things he should know. Things, people he recognized and cared for. Images that tore his mind apart into agonizing disassembled shreds.
He saw an island. A port. Filled with tall ships with cotton white sails. Chocolate skinned natives dotting the harbors and a beautiful woman waiting on the shore.
He saw flashes of gold. Jewels and riches, the light of torches glinting off the precious metals as he climbed and climbed. Voices indistinct raised and jeering in the background.
He saw blue. Miles and miles of unbroken blue. The sun shinning above the water as he, trapped beneath, lost his breath. He felt his lungs burn and felt a strangely familiar urgency to surface. But could not seem to move his limbs.
He saw faces.
A woman, beautiful and regal. Fair chestnut hair and soft pouting pink lips.
He saw an older man. Grey and white dotting his beard as he drank from a flask of liquor.
He saw a figure he vaguely knew. His father. Older, tall with dark curly hair and large eyes. Handsome and strong.
Then he saw a strange man. Long black brown hair peppered with beads and trinkets and a gold toothed grin that made any being melt. That face.
JACK!
The images suddenly flashed and melted. Appearing over and over each other, blurring and smearing into strange swirls and shapes. Burning eyes he could not feel and causing pain to swell in places he did not know he had. Nor could he locate. He felt like he was dying all over again. And could do nothing to stop it.
The shards suddenly seemed to blink and flicker out of existence. And he found himself growing dizzy. The grey world seemed to swim, and falter before his nonexistent eyes. Will was drunk on the agonizing pain and dizzy with vertigo. He felt himself falling suddenly. Falling through the grey until it bled into black. He tried to scream again but nothing came out. Suddenly his frail shadow consciousness slammed into what felt like a brick wall and everything went blue. He felt smoke in his lungs and ice cold water all around him.
He was drowning.
He suddenly had a body again. He felt his limbs grow cold and numb by the chilling liquid sucking him down. He felt lungs burn and ache with noxious smoke and air depravation. He could see as salt water stung his eyes.
And he was drowning.
Panic sank in. And he fought. Hard. Swimming and kicking the best he could. Clawing his way to the surface of the deadly ocean, yet seemed to make no progress. A hand, pale in color suddenly grasped his forearm, and he screamed. Loosing what little air he had left, his flesh felt like it was burning, yet the hand did not release. Instead it raised his sinking form dragging him to the surface. His head broke water and Will sucked in a lung full of air. It was then he dazedly noticed his body was significantly different. Smaller. Frailer. And the scene around him was frighteningly familiar. It was the Queen's Bounty. The ship of his nightmares. The ship he had stolen away upon 10 years ago. Crossing from England to the Caribbean. The ship Barbosa had sank trying to find him...
With the help of the strange hand and its owner he managed to weakly scramble atop a floating piece of the doomed ship, panting hard as his head swam. Dark half blinded eyes managed to lock on the face hovering before him. Hues of a dark crimson surround a gentle pale face. A smile gracing beautifully painted lips. "Who are you?..." Young Will breathed, his body shaking from the shock of the explosion and the cold waters. The smile on the beautiful figures features widened and a hand caressed his cheek. "Shh everything will be alright now child..." The being whispered in the same soft sweet yet haunting voice. A chill ran down his spine and heavy, smoke clouded eyes drooped.
Lips pressed to his cold wet ear as consciousness again slowly slipped from his icy pale fingers.
"You are mine now..."
"I am coming for you."
To Be Continued...
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