A/N: What's a pirate's favorite letter? R? Nope! The C! Get it . . . get it . . . get it? Yeah, you get it. M'kay, Goldie here is done. I'm in a weird mood . . . sorry about that. First off, to all the readers, followers, favoriters (That can't be a real word, is it?), and reviewers of this story . . . you are the best kind of awesome sauce! Thank you so much! We're so glad you're enjoying this so far!

A special thanks to our second reviewer, the guest reviewer :)! Your kind, thoughtful review inspired us to update more quickly, so we owe a lot of that to you! We encourage you to write that Hook's daughter story! Seriously, write it! Wriiiiiitttteeee iiiiiiittttt! *Ahem*, okay, now that that's out of my system. . . . We would read the hell out of that, so if you start writing it soon (which you should) be sure to tell us about it so we can read it! :D

Anyway, a little explanation here. This chapter takes place a few hundred years after the last one. Yeah, that sounds weird, doesn't it? But it's true. We don't exactly know how canon this is, but we had Rumpel place a time spell on the twins so they cannot age at all. Oh well, it's fanfiction :p. Basically, we still view them as ten years old, even if they're technically not. Because they're physically ten, emotionally ten, mentally and intellectually ten (they've had no opportunity to mature in their imprisonment . . . you'll see). So, essentially, they're ten. Yeah, so . . . please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :)

Warning: Possible trigger warning? The characters are very, very depressed, and have suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 2: Hell on Earth

Jack's Perspective

Mellie and I would scratch the wall every single morning to maintain some concept of time, so we wouldn't go absolutely insane. Truthfully, we had lost count after the amount of scratches had entered the thousands, then the tens of thousands. . . .

We counted every single piece of straw in there hundreds of times over. We even named every single one of them- well, I tried to with as many names as I could think. The two of us were polite and considerate enough to remember and respect the names we each gave to them. Several of the names were made up, but it made no difference to us. They were our only friends besides each other and they were inanimate objects, they wouldn't mind.

Our clothes were replaced every few years, and they were in dire need of replacement now; my pants and baggy shirt were faded and gray and essentially unrecognizable and the same went for her dress. Oh, how Mellie hated dresses. She had always been a tomboy. Sometimes, when it didn't hurt as much, I recalled my cherished memories of wearing leather. Leather, it was a gift from the heavens. At least our family used to think so, even Mellie and our momma. Our momma looked beautiful in leather and she was so happy. . . .

We were all happy then. It was joyous to recall, yet immeasurably excruciating at the same time. Because those times were no more.

It hurt to think about, so let's move on. We looked like the raggedy homeless children we once paid no mind to. Melody's ebony curls of hair had never been so tangled and I forgot what my hair used to feel like before the layers upon layers of grease.

My skin once had a light, golden tan to it from the constant rays of sun from the deck of our beloved Jolly Roger. What I'd give to feel that warmth again, to smell the salt of the sea crashing against the wooden sides of the ship, to feel the gently rocking deck beneath my worn-out shoes. . . . No more.

We were so deathly pale that we appeared as ghosts. It was fitting, really. Because we were alive, yes, technically, but sometimes it felt like we had truly died the day we were locked away in this wretched tower.

Oh, I believe I left out a crucial fact. We were alone in that little prison for several hundred years. There was nobody to talk to but ourselves and nowhere to go and nothing to hope for. . . . It was pure hell, in its worst form.

We were brought food once a day just as our chamber pot was replaced at the same time, but it was always a meager meal. The crocodile decided he had to starve us while torturing us, I suppose. He always gave us enough to keep us alive, though. He was teasing us, which he so loved to do- he knew perfectly well that we'd rather him let us die.

It would have been so, so lonely had Mellie not been there, but by now, we knew every little detail about the other. It was like we were one person. There was no small talk left, it just wasn't possible. Don't mistake me as ungrateful, though, if Mellie hadn't been there then I wouldn't have lasted an hour.

It was a little strange, really. Before our imprisonment, we were undeniably close, sharing that treasured twin bond. But this was . . . different. Sure, before we enjoyed the time spent together and loved each other dearly, but we were both independent and highly attached to our parents. We didn't need to rely so heavily on each other when we had a whole family to depend on.

Now, we were all the other had left. It wasn't just that we loved each other more than anything else in the whole wide world, we needed each other. So much. We were each other's life boats, keeping our heads above the dark, churning water. Our connection, strengthened so much over the years, went impossibly deep. Before, if the other had died, we would've lost our other half. But now, it would be like losing ourselves.

My only other companions were my flashbacks of the worst day of my life, the day our mother was murdered and the day we were taken away from my father. Mellie relived them, too; I could tell when her eyes would go away.

We sometimes role-played as others, anyone, so it was like we had friends- other than ourselves and the straws, of course. There was a point where I seriously questioned my sanity, until I realized I didn't even know the meaning of the word anymore. It was all void now.

The isolation ate away at us both every minute of every hour of every day of every year, to the point where there wasn't enough of me for it to eat away from. Whoever I once was, so long ago, he had long since worn away. I wasn't even just a shell of him, the shell was eaten away, too. No, I was nothing.

I told this to Mellie once, maybe about fifty years ago. Hadn't really brought it up again, there was no point. We both felt it but there was nothing to do about it, so what was the point in talking about it? She wholeheartedly agreed with me, said that over the years she felt like her soul had painfully seeped out of her body and never returned.

At least I had somebody to tell this to, but it wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough. See, I had wished for death the day I had arrived, several hundred years before. And every single day, the want for it grew and grew to the point where now, it was my first thought when I woke up, my last thought before I slipped into a fitful slumber . . . and nearly every thought in between. I wanted to die.

I knew Mellie did, too. We occasionally mentioned it to each other. We wanted to die, and we wanted to die together. Neither of us had it in us to end the other's life, though. We couldn't put the other through the misery of being completely alone, alive while the other was dead. My sister and I were each other's only reasons to live and it would be unimaginably cruel to end that.

My eyes peeled open in what I vaguely assumed was morning- although I really had no idea. I had no concept of time anymore. The only light that came into this place was the weak stream from the crack under the door. Mellie was still sleeping, looking peaceful enough but as I clawed at the wall to leave this day's mark on the grand scheme of things, she stirred awake. "Mmm . . . did you already mark today, brother?" It was useless, really, but it was all we could do.

"Consider it done, sister." My fingernails were incredibly uneven and jagged by this point.

"I'll do it tomorrow, then," she offered and I nodded in agreement. "The food ought to be here soon."

"Yes, it should," I said simply and our conversation blinked out.

Our meal would come when the light turned the straw into a glimmering pale gold. The light was only beginning to peek in. As I often did, I stretched out my legs and arms so my fingers and toes just barely touched both sides of the tower (it was that tiny, I was only five foot three).

Mellie, as she so often did, curled up in her favorite corner (though it wasn't even a corner, the tower was round) and began to sing softly to herself.

A few hundred years before, I must say, she didn't have the greatest singing voice, but since she had so very long to improve it, it was a thousand times better. Sometimes, when we were feeling especially lonely, she would sing the lullaby we remembered our momma used to sing to us every night before bed (we shared a room). Daddy would lean on the doorway and smile away at the special moment . . . no more.

Her singing voice sounded similar to our momma's (except higher, and more bell-like and haunting) so occasionally, if I closed my eyes, I could pretend Momma was here with us. But she wasn't. She was dead- murdered.

Mellie was singing one of Momma's lullabies now and I half-heartedly hummed along with it. "I've always liked this one," I complimented and she dipped her head in acknowledgement.

Stretching, I crunched the straw beneath my bare feet then almost instantly felt guilty; that was no way to treat your friends! I murmured an apology, "Sorry Jane, sorry Edward."

"Don't forget Leo, James, and Isabella," Mellie pointed out, the ghost of a smile touching her face. We didn't smile anymore, hadn't for several centuries now. The muscles in my face that allowed me to smile had to be so unused that even if I wanted to, I probably couldn't.

"Right, sorry guys." My stomach rumbled; we were already starving, the least they could do was bring us our tiny daily meal.

The crocodile had actually disappeared years ago. He had some magical beings or spells or whatever dark magic he could come up with continue to bring us our food. "How many years do you think he's been gone now?" There was no real point to my question. We hadn't mentioned it in a few years now, because it didn't seem like he was coming back.

My question startled her enough to cease her singing. Her body stiffened up as she pondered it over. "Er, based off this area of marks," she motioned to the area of tower wall behind her back, "I'd say about . . . twenty-eight years? Twenty-nine, maybe?"
"Sounds roughly correct."

Her curved black eyebrows knit together and her head tilted to the left slightly. She gnawed on her lip; it was one of her most common nervous ticks. "Why bring this up now? We haven't really mentioned it in . . . twenty-five years? We deduced he probably wasn't coming back, at least not anytime soon."

"I don't really know, it was just on my mind." I shrugged and decided to drop the subject. Apathetic at best, she closed her eyes and began singing her little tune again.

A few hours later, the straw was blazing gold, but no food arrived. "This isn't right," I murmured, tapping repetitively at the locked meal flap.

Mellie remarked, "They're never this late. Never." Her hands started to quiver and she seemed more alive than she had in so many years. "The food's been brought at the same exact time for several hundred years now. What's changed now? Has the crocodile finally decided to kill us?" Burying her face in hands, her body rocked back and forth. "This is it, brother. The days have come. We're going to finally die."

"I wouldn't be so hopeful," I pointed out darkly because something wasn't right. Why now? Why what was so special about this particular day and beyond that he would finally put us out of our misery? "And even if . . . it'll be painful, starving to death." You might think we could have let ourselves starve to death before, but the crocodile and then whatever minions he had left always made sure we ate and drank, forcing us to stay alive.

Her head snapped up and her bright blue eyes swam with tears. "Stop it, Jack! We have nothing here . . . just let me have that! I know it'll be painful, but the result will be worth it! Let me hold onto that hope that this can finally end. It's what we've wanted for so long. Please, of all things, let me have that!"

I struck an extremely frayed nerve and for that I was guilty. A single tear fell down her face, the most emotion she's displayed in (you guessed it, years!), so I leaned over forward to wipe it away with my thumb. "Of course, sister. I would never take that from you. You know how much I want that, too, I just don't want you to get your hopes up and then be disappointed."

She didn't answer; she was closing herself off. All I could do now keep my expectations low and wait for my food, but even my own hopes began to rise once it became apparent that the food wasn't coming. "Jack, this is it, this is what we've been waiting for."

"I hope you're right," I whispered, my heart picking up in pace. Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.

We both, deep down, assumed this day was the day our suffering might finally begin to end, but it wasn't . . . because something else happened first.

No, something so much greater happened. There was a loud thump against the door, then a chirp. Our locked meal flap was pecked open by the creature and the bird crawled its way through. A pigeon. It looked up at me expectantly and held out its leg with a note and a package tied to it.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head and Mellie tentatively stroked at its fluffy gray feathers, murmuring, ". . . This is new."

"What do you want?" I asked the bird (rhetorically, of course, I didn't completely lose my mind), plucking the note and package off its leg. I couldn't quite find it in me to open it at first.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Mellie prompted of me impatiently. "C'mon, Jack, nothing unpredictable has happened to us for centuries. We might as well embrace this moment."

"I don't know what to expect," I finally said, revealing my fear. "It can't be any worse than this."

"You're right, it can't, so you might as well open it." I shook my head fondly. Even as the years wasted away at us, Mellie was as blunt as ever.

"All right . . . I'll do it." I untied the note and was stunned to read,

Dear children of Killian and Milah,

I've stumbled upon this magical bean and although it could be for other purposes, I've decided to use it for you. I've kept you here long enough. My vendetta against your mother has disappeared, since my true love has returned. I have been making amends. Take this bean, and be free.

Rumpelstiltskin

My fingers were trembling with shock. This can't be, I thought over and over again. This just can't be. The crocodile was letting us go after so many years?! This just couldn't be possible. This was never an option, so we never bothered to wish for it.

"What does it say?" Mellie leaned into my personal space to read the letter and nearly choked on her own saliva. "No, no, he wouldn't do that. This is fake, this isn't real . . . it can't be. He'd sooner end our lives than pull a stunt like this. No, this is just another one of his games." She spat the last word like it was a disgusting taste she couldn't rid her tongue of.

"Open the package, then," I told her gently, my voice so much hoarser than it was before I read the letter. "See if it's one of his games."

"Why bother?" she demanded, angrily throwing the package at the wall. It fell with a soft puff onto the straw. "I bet there's nothing in there. He just wants to hurt us again. Think about it, Jack, think about it! He murdered our mother, cut off our father's hand, locked us away for several hundred years . . . ! Does that sound like a man- no, he's not a man, he's a beast! Does that crocodile sound like somebody with even an ounce of mercy in his system? No! He's a cold-blooded reptile with the blackest of hearts- if he even has one."

"If you're not going to open it, then I will," I said more harshly than I originally meant to. She flinched, but stood her ground.

"Do what you want, brother. It'll get us nowhere." Sighing at her stubbornness, I crawled through the straw- this time not bothering to apologize to any of our friends- and gingerly picked up the package.

Swallowing a huge gulp of air, I pulled open the little bag and my heart stuttered and skipped a beat as a bright green bean fell out onto the ground. The crocodile didn't lie . . . he actually gave us a magical giant's bean, an object of legends.

"That's impossible," Mellie whispered, nudging it around with her forefinger. "This . . . this can't be happening. Not after so much time. I-I . . . didn't think this could ever be possible."

"But it's here." Suddenly, an enormous jolt of exhilaration burned fire through my veins and I jumped to my feet, tears of pure joy streaming down my cheeks. "Mellie, sister, this is it! We don't have to die because-"

Mellie got to her feet as well as her eyes filled up with tears. "Because . . . we're free. Jack . . . we're free." It really hit her then and her frame shook with full, body-embossing sobs. "Oh my God! We don't have to spend another minute in this purgatory . . . WE'RE FREE!"

I pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace and we wept together. As we noisily cried, our savior pigeon hobbled out the meal flap and then picked the door's main lock with its sharp beak. We instantly jumped apart as we heard it.

Mellie stepped forward and pushed the door open with such trepidation, it was like she expected it to come alive and tear her to pieces. The door swung open, revealing the happy little pigeon on the other side. "You bloody fantastic bird," Mellie ferociously praised and it chirped in response.

I picked up the giant's bean off the floor and kissed it. "Thank the deities that this exists."

A shadow of doubt lowered Mellie's spirits. "But how do we get it to work?"

I reflected on all I had ever heard about the magical beans. "Hmm . . . I have an idea." Almost expecting a bolt of lightning to appear and zap me to death, I stepped a toe outside of the door and then quickly yanked it back. "I-I don't know if I can do this. Not after so long. . . ."

Mellie took my hand in hers. "Yes, you can. We can. Together." Nodding in determination, we jumped out of our prison and into the surrounding hallway. We did it. Our first step to freedom was completed.

"Yes!" Before, I wondered if I even could smile anymore, but a grin nearly ripped my face apart. Mellie smiled just as wide- strange thing, our teeth were somehow perfectly fine due to the crocodile's anti-aging magic. Guess we had one thing to be the slightest bit grateful for.

"Now what?" Mellie panted, hopping up and down like a hyper child much younger than herself. "What do we do now?"

"This." Gripping the bean as tightly as I could, I threw it across the hall with all my might. A tiny flicker of light formed where it landed on the filthy ground. The bean brightened and brightened and turned into a swirling whirlpool of green fluctuating light. "Let's go, Mellie! We can do this!"

Hand in hand, we raced for it and without even the slightest glance behind us to say goodbye to what had been our prison for so long, we jumped into the whirlpool.

A/N: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let us know! Where do you think they're going to end up? Here's a hint- they're going to meet a main character.