Here be the sad endin', mates. Tissues! And I want everyone to know how much I enjoyed writin' this!

Chapter XX (Ending B)

Calm Seas

Bree plucked at the strings of her fiddle, readying the bow. She set it gently to the strings, looking up at the faces of her audience. She grinned at them, winking, "What'll it be today, mates?"

Barbossa, who was very fond of Bree's music, spoke up, "Play Drowsy Maggie, Bree!"

Lillian Doyle smiled, nodding eagerly, "Oh, yes, I love that one! You play it so well!"

Bree grinned, obliging. Soon the crewmates were all tapping their toes to the lively air. The bow fairly flew over the strings as the melody went faster.

Everyone was caught in the moment, even Jack the monkey did a little dance.

Suddenly, a shudder ran through the ship, knocking everyone to their feet.

Barbossa was the first up, shouting, "Cannonfire! C'mon, dogs! Someone's firin' on us!"

Bree and Lillian ran up to the deck, looking across at the opposing ship. Bree's eyes landed on the flag flying; the East India Trading Company!

Bree's eyes narrowed. Her eyes fell on a small man standing at the railing. She immediately guessed that this was Lord Cutler Beckett. From all the descriptions Jack had given him, this man fit them all.

Bree held onto the railing as the Bloodmast fired at the opposing ship. Bree was somewhat satisfied, however, to see the other crew preparing grapnels. Maybe a good fight was in store!

Lillian unsheathed her sword, grinning eagerly, "Ah, perhaps we'll get some proper fun, eh?"

Bree grinned back at her, her eyes misting over red. She drew her sword, watching as the Bloodmast's crew hurried on deck, armed to the teeth.

And the first batch of marines swung over, muskets and swords at the ready. Shots rang out, and one of Bree's fellow pirates fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Bree gave out a growl, lunging out and lopping off a nearby marine's arm, her teeth bared.

The fight grew very ugly, very fast. However, the pirates were on the winning side. They were the better fighters, and with Bree, Lillian and Barbossa fighting together, death was everywhere.

Bree was like a wild beast, clawing, biting and cleaving. Blood flecked her jaws and her hands as she whirled about, slaying anyone who was unfortunate to come into the range of her sword swings.

Cutler Beckett, being the coward that he was, stayed to the shadows, his sword clasped firmly in his hand. The battle was going in the pirates' favor. He looked out at the writhing turmoil of red uniforms, wondering if there was an easy escape route. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a young girl, fighting off a marine with a large broadsword. He smiled. She would be easy to pick off.

Sneaking up behind the girl, Beckett raised his sword and thrust forward with all his strength.

Bree felt something go straight through her. She made a strange sound, half gasp and half groan as a blade pushed through her chest, protruding from right above her heart. She looked down at it dumbly, and then fell to her knees, blood dripping down her shirt and onto her hands. Her sword fell from her hands as she fell, her breathing ragged.

Barbossa turned, seeing Bree fall. He gave out a cry, rushing to her and dropping to his knees beside her. He lifted her head, calling out to her, "Bree! Bree, mate!"

Lillian also saw Bree take the blow. In a rage, she slew a marine in her way and ran to Bree. She knelt down by her head, wiping blood from the girl's mouth. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she spoke in a choked voice, "She's…she's been stabbed through the heart!"

Bree was dry heaving, pain causing her eyesight to leave her. She knew she was dying.

The Flying Dutchman had come across the ship battle.

Davy Jones stood, trying to make out the two ships. He strained his eyes, and then stopped.

It was the Bloodmast.

Jones began bellowing out orders, "Head for those two ships! Lively now or I'll string ye up by yer guts!"

The crew of the Dutchman had never crewed their ship so diligently.

The battle halted immediately when the Dutchman drifted up alongside the Bloodsail. Without even waiting, Davy Jones made his way onto the ship, and all halted at the sight of him.

Jones looked about, and stopped. There were two people kneeling on the deck, bent over someone. Dread began filling Jones. He strode forward, and impatiently pushed the two forms away. Both people looked up, eyes wide, but moved out of the way.

Jones felt horror freeze his blood. Bree was lying there, blood staining her chest. She was barely breathing. Jones' worst nightmare were unfolding before him.

Jones knelt before the dying girl, tears shamelessly falling from his eyes as he whispered her name hoarsely, "Bree…Bree…please…please don't…"

Bree opened her eyes, but Jones could see the brightness already fading from the beautiful blue depths. She smiled softly, her face already pale from blood loss. She held her hand out, and Jones took it, kissing it softly, shutting his eyes tight. He couldn't lose her! He just couldn't! Separation was hard enough to bear, but losing her forever…

Bree struggled to speak, opening her mouth. Jones knelt lower so as to hear her, but all she could do was mouth the word, "Goodbye."

Jones caressed Bree's cheek, his tears splashing onto her face. She closed her eyes, sighing weakly. Jones knelt, kissing her again, trying to soak in the warmth of her lips, but he felt them turning cold. He drew away, searching her face. She had a soft smile curling the corners of her mouth, and she drew a long, deep breath.

Jones waited. No breath followed. Bree was dead.

Jones lifted his head and wailed. All those watching felt their marrow freeze when they heard that sound. All their following nightmares began and ended with that sound. It was like the howl of a dying animal. Jones gathered Bree's corpse up into his arms and embraced her, his tears mixing with her blood. No, not his Bree! Not her!

Jones pressed his mouth to the curve of Bree's neck, rocking back and forth as he tried to hold back the sobs. How could she be dead? How? And why?

Cutler Beckett had hidden himself below when he had seen Jones, and when he heard that scream, he felt his blood freeze. If he was caught…

Jones immediately stood, quivering with rage and heartbreak. He bared his teeth and turned to Maccus, who was wisely keeping his distance, "Find the scum who killed her!"

Maccus nodded, eager to have something to do.

Captain Barbossa stepped forward, for once strangely cowed by the presence of Davy Jones. But he spoke, "I saw who killed 'er. Cutler Beckett." He then stepped back. He stared mournfully at Bree's corpse. He had been fond of the girl. But he didn't dare approach the body. Jones was standing over it like an animal guarding the body of its dead mate.

Jones turned on one of the crew, "Where is he?" His voice was low with rage. The terrified man pointed to the hold with a shaky finger, and Jones stormed down, unsheathing his broadsword.

Beckett saw Jones descend to the hold. His mouth went dry with terror. It was as if Jones could sense his fear, for he turned in the direction of the coward's hiding place, and his eyes narrowed. He strode forward and knocked the barrels aside.

Beckett knew now that his life was over. He saw his fate written in the eyes of Davy Jones. The man of the sea's eyes were blazing with wrath, vengeance and bitter sorrow, hatred and heartbreak. He grabbed the cowardly Beckett by the neck and growled into his face, "Ye killed Bree…now I'll kill ye, an' ye'll wish ye were already in Hell!"

All those on deck shuddered as they heard Beckett's screams.

Jones reemerged on deck almost an hour later. He motioned to two of his crew, and they disappeared down below to retrieve the maimed and mutilated body of Cutler Beckett.

Jones went back to Bree's corpse, kneeling beside it and brushing the hair from Bree's lifeless face. He felt grief clouding his senses. His Bree…dead. He would never see her again. Never hear her laugh. Never see her feisty nature when she was excited. Never see her bravery in battle. Never…never kiss her again.

Jones wept openly, unashamed. No one dared to approach him, and he ignored them all.

Maccus stood off to the side awkwardly, holding something in his claws. He at last cleared his throat. Jones looked back at him, his eyes red with weeping. He snarled, "What?"

Maccus held the object out. Jones snatched it from him and examined it.

It was the heart.

Jones sighed brokenly, and then turned back to Bree.

He had no reason to go on living in this prison, as only half a man, neither alive nor dead.

"Bring me a dagger."

Maccus, too afraid to disobey his master, took a dagger from his belt and passed it to Jones. Jones gripped the dagger, looking down at Bree's lifeless body.

I never told her that I loved her. I never said those words.

Jones looked down at his heart. It was quivering and shaking, like something gasping out with shuddering breaths, giving ragged sighs as if it couldn't go on beating. Like something too wounded to go on in existence.

It was breaking for a second time.

Jones closed his eyes, knowing that the pain he felt now would never go away. He couldn't keep feelings hidden forever. Why…why keep living when he should have died long ago…long before Bree was ever born?

Why keep on living without her?

Jones made up his mind.

There is no reason why.

Jones drove the dagger into his still beating heart, all the way to the hilt.

Jones felt pain lance through him, but it was dulled by a great peace. His miserable existence would soon be over.

Jones slumped down on the deck beside Bree, his breathing growing shallow and rapid as pain made his head spin. He began vomiting up dark, black blood, feeling his life ending rapidly. It was almost there. Death was almost there.

Jones turned, seeing Bree's pale face through the haze of blood and death. She looked peaceful. Was that what death was? Peace?

Jones remembered what he himself had once said, "Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?"

It was different. He smiled as he slipped slowly into dark oblivion, the world around him fading. For a moment, he thought he could feel a hand briefly touch his shoulder…a gentle, loving touch.

And now he realized how the afterlife was different.

Bree was there.

The End