FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
47—Haunted
DISCLAIMER: Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.
A/N: I didn't read up on the legend of Davy Jones, I chose to come up with something on my own, so I know it might not be "accurate."
Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! I truly appreciate it.
It was nearly sunset… almost time. After ten, long, arduous years however, "almost" wasn't quite good enough. The captain had done his job and he'd done it well, and now it was time for his reward. He smiled to himself, clutching gently at the locket she'd given him when they were last together, the sweet, familiar tune ruminating through his head.
Oh, how he could hardly wait to see her! The duty she'd charged him with had never been an easy one, but since it was she who asked him to do it, he'd done so gladly. He stood now at the railing of his mighty ship, his calloused hands resting gingerly atop the weathered wood. He let his eyes flutter shut and could see her face smiling back at her.
"Almost," he murmured quietly, "almost."
Despite the fact that they'd been apart for a decade, everything about her was still so fresh and vivid in his mind. It would take millions upon millions of decades before he could forget those details… the way she spoke, the brown sugar of her skin, the curve of her hips… the way she always smelled of the sea.
It was no mystery that he had fallen so hard for her. He was raised an only child, the son of sailor and a mother who adored him. His father spent more time at sea than he did at home, but the letters he would send to his mother were always filled with the most wonderful adorations and sweet-nothings. And when he was home... even now, as a grown man, he never forgot the way his parents loved each other. After his mother died on the eve of his 16th year, his father was never the same. He himself passed away less than two years later, of what the young David knew was a broken heart.
Thinking of his parents was a bittersweet mix of emotions. He missed not having them in his life, but remembering how they lived and loved was of great comfort. And now it was his turn. In just a few more minutes, that brilliant flash of green would fill the sky. He would return to her, they would be together, and all would be right with the world.
"Should I send him in, Capt'n?"
Jones didn't bother looking up from the locket as it sat open atop the keys of his organ. It still played the same haunting tune, reminding of her even when he wanted to forget. How naive he'd been to imagine that they'd get to live happily ever after. How foolish he'd been… standing there, just waiting, even as the sun's rays first began to appear on the horizon. "Any minute now," he kept saying. "She's just late, that's all. She'll be here."
"Damn fool," he muttered, his voice now unrecognizable, even to him. Everything about him was different now. His appearance, his voice, even his ship… and it was her fault. He hated her. He hated her so much for doing this to him, for shattering his heart when it was at its most vulnerable, for betraying him like he meant nothing.
"Capt'n?" The voice of his bo'sun snapped him from his heated reverie.
"Aye," Jones grumbled. "Send him in." He stood up with such force that it sent the organ seat out from underneath him, slamming against the floor. He simply stepped over it, not bothering to set it upright. He strode across the room, his heavy wooden leg thumping ominously against the floor.
He stopped in front of a large wooden mirror, his face marred by the dusty film coating it. He did not recognize the man he saw. Tentacles grew in place of the beard that once covered his face. He looked like a grotesque creature of the deep as opposed to a man. He had half a mind to slam the monstrous claw that had taken the place of his arm into the glass and shatter that horrifying reflection forever when he heard the cabin door creak open and hesitant footsteps made their way into the room.
Jones cautiously stepped to the side, hiding behind a tattered velvet curtain and watching as the young man peered around the room.
"Capt'n Jones? Anyone here?" he called, his voice soft and unsure. The ship creaked and his locket persistently droned on, but other than that the cabin was dreadfully silent. Jones continued to watch him with narrowed eyes as he rocked on his feet before proceeding to explore the cabin. He felt his face flush hot with anger as the younger sailor began to open cabinets, peer at the bookshelves.
His short temper went from a simmer to a boil when his visitor brazenly turned his attention towards the source of the lingering music. When his fingers were mere inches from surreptitiously pocketing the piece when Jones threw back the currently and stomped across the room towards him. A gold-flecked smile instantly flashed across the face of the younger man and he quickly took a step back, acting as though nothing had happened at all.
"Ahh," he said casually. "There you are."
"Do. Not. Touch. That," Jones spat, hurriedly grabbing the locket, clicking it shut, and tucking it away inside his jacket. "What is your business here?"
"Ye don't bother mincing words, do you?" his visitor asked, flashing him another arrogant grin.
"I don't waste my time entertaining fools. What do you want?"
"Very well," the young man said, tearing his gaze from the mythical sea captain, a hard thing to do, given his appearance. "I'm in need to acquire a ship. A specific ship. And I understand you're the one to talk to about that."
"Some pirate you are, needin' my help just to obtain a blasted ship," Jones snorted, pushing past him and yanking the organ stool off the ground. He slammed it into place with such force that he was initially concerned he'd broken it. He showed no sign of distress, however. He proceeded to whirl around, standing in front of the instrument and facing the younger man as if protecting his territory.
"This isn't just any ship, mate," he replied. The look on his face suggested confidence and poise, but the way his fingers apprehensively fidgeted with the edge of the tricorn hat he held in his hands suggested otherwise.
"And what makes this ship worth your time… or mine?" Jones asked, ignoring the salt water that sprayed from his mouth when he spoke. Just another sign of how she'd ruined him.
"She's an exceptional thing of beauty… such superior craftsmanship was never seen before her and will never be seen after her. She's the fastest ship these waters have ever touched… and she has to be mine."
"Fine reasons but hardly reason enough. What else?" he asked.
The younger man's face twitched. It was slight and hardly noticeable, but there all the same. "What makes ye think there's always something else?"
"There always be somethin' else. Out with it."
The visitor sighed and looked away. Without returning his eyes to his benefactor's face, he took a deep breath and continued. "She sank. Nearly four years ago not far from Tortuga." He finally returned his eyes to Jones, who stared at him expectantly; a half-smirk coiled onto his other-worldly face. The younger man sighed again, knowing there was more to tell and that Jones wanted to hear it. "And she was my mother's," he added, again looking away from the older captain.
"Ahhh," Jones mocked, clicking his tongue. "It's always a woman." A sadistic gurgling formulated in the back of his throat as he stepped so close to his visitor that he could practically count his eyelashes. He made sure his voice was at a portentous whisper before speaking. "Why go to the trouble? She. Did. Not. Love. You. No woman is ever capable."
Suddenly the young man's head snapped up. His nostrils flared and a fire burned deep in his eyes. Jones was amused by this, convinced he would hit him or pull out his pistol or something. But he didn't. Instead he spoke in a tone that would have frightened any other man… but Jones wasn't any other man.
"You keep your mouth shut," he said, his voice a true reflection of how angry he'd become. "You didn't know my mother. Don't you ever speak of her that way again."
Suddenly something inside Jones clicked and he knew exactly who he was dealing with. "I knew your mother. Knew of her. You're Isabel Morrego's son." The younger man's face relaxed as he regained some of his composure. "What's yer name, lad?"
"Jack," he said slowly, taking another deep breath. "Jack Sparrow."
"Well," Jones replied with a leering grin. "What's in it for me… Jack Sparrow?"
Jack breathed in through his nostrils, a look of complacent contempt on his face. "Me."
Jones paused. "Hardly a fitting price for such a prized possession."
"It's no secret how you do things," Jack replied, smirking. "You allow me the Black Pearl for fifteen years and you get me… for an eternity of servitude."
Jones stared at the young Captain, pondering what such a proposition would mean to him. To have the son of the late, famed Isabel Morrego… that captain wench who he himself had refused to ferry across to the other side as an indentured servant on his ship… it was too hard to pass up.
Finally, his decision made, he smiled a wicked smile. "Ten years."
Jack frowned. "Fourteen."
"Thirteen."
Jack's frown turned to a smile. "Deal! Yer a diamond." He stuck out his hand, waiting for Jones to shake it. Instead, Jones offered a lazy chuckle that, truth be told, frightened Jack right down to his boots. Then he grabbed his hand, engulfing his long, elegant fingers in a slimy mass of tentacles. He watched with delight as Jack grimaced, finally pulling his hand free and staring at it with disgust before casually wiping it on his breeches.
Jones smiled and turned around, sitting on the organ seat and beginning to play the song that he loathed and loved all at once. "Your beloved ship is where your infernal mother lost her. I trust you're capable to find it on your own."
Jack stood still, his jaw and fists clenched as his blood began to boil once more. He forced himself to maintain his composure, however, too afraid that Jones would change his mind should he retaliate. Instead he said nothing. He placed his hat on his head and turned towards the door. His hand was hovering just above the knob when Jones spoke again.
"Thirteen years." He smiled to himself when he heard the door slam.
Davy Jones sat at his organ, where he could almost always be found. He hadn't a need for food or sleep… least of all, he hadn't any need for the pleasures of the flesh. He would rather see every woman on the face of God's earth fry than ever trust or love one again. Women, every last one, were toxic.
He did, however, have a desire to play his most favored instrument. At least when he was doing so he was somewhere else, was someone else. There were times when he delighted in what he did, like sucking poor helpless souls aboard his ship for a hundred years of servitude was his happy calling. There were other times when he loathed what he was, what Calypso had turned him into so much he wondered why he went through the trouble of existing.
Now was one of those times when he was mostly indifferent to either. What he was, however, was uneasy. He'd let that snake Jack Sparrow manipulate him and it was driving him mad. He thought he had given him an impossible task, but knowing Jack… no, he didn't trust him to fail.
Quite frankly, he didn't trust Jack at all. He never had, not since the moment he'd first laid eyes on him and saw him trying to swipe his locket. And why should he get to call the shots? They'd had a deal after all, fair and square.
He hated himself, not for the first time, for being so foolish. All he'd done was buy Jack time to best him. His empty chest felt tight, a feeling he detested. This would not do. This would not do at all.
"Bo'sun!" he screamed, standing up from his seat. Like the day of his first meeting with the younger captain, the organ bench flew out from behind him. This time it did break, one of its legs snapping off and sliding underneath the instrument. He hardly noticed. He paced back and forth, breathing heavily in and out of his nostrils like an angry, caged animal.
Only a few moments passed before the cabin door swung open and his bo'sun stood before him.
"How far are we from Isla Cruces?" Jones demanded, still pacing with great unrest.
"Captain—?"
"Isla Cruces! HOW FAR?" he screamed.
"An hour, Captain. Maybe more," the bo'sun said, his voice on the verge of cracking. Jones, more furious with himself than anyone else, stormed forward. He grabbed his bo'sun by the shoulders with such force, he felt him tremble, only slightly.
"Trust that 'maybe more' will cost you your head!" Jones shouted, spit flying as he spoke.
"Aye, Captain…" the bo'sun said shakily, quickly disappearing from Jones' sight.
Jones waited for several more moments before taking a deep breath. He gradually stood upright and pulled the locket out from his jacket. Very slowly, he flipped the lid, listening aimlessly as it played that familiar, haunting song.
Jack came out of his sleep induced haze with a headache. If there was anything he despised dreaming of, it was Davy Jones, and unfortunately it was an all-too-common occurrence these days.
He rolled onto his back and blindly reached for his companion. He frowned and forced his eyes open when he found a cold, vacant space. He was about to groan like a displeased five year old when he heard a very soft splashing noise from the depths of the cabin. A wry grin crept onto his lips. Suddenly, he knew exactly where his Lizzie was and what she was doing and the thought was more than appealing.
He rolled back onto his side so he was facing the rest of the cabin. Propping himself up on his elbow, he waited patiently with a feral grin on his face for her to appear. Five minutes had yet to pass when he heard her footsteps approaching. Her firm body was glistening, almost sparkling, in the morning light that danced through the cracks in the curtains.
"What a pleasant sight to awaken to," he said coyly, grinning in delight when she jumped, startled to see him watching her. He clicked his tongue playfully. "My, my, how I love a naked Lizzie in the morning."
Elizabeth loved moments like this. She loved knowing that the mere sight of her would have such an effect on him and she loved using it to her advantage. She smiled back, allowing the sheet she had pulled out to dry herself hang loosely from her hips, keeping her upper half exposed.
"I aim to please," she said smoothly, winking at him.
"Elizabeth, my love, you always please. Did you enjoy your sponge bath?"
She shrugged. "It's not as enjoyable as a real bath, but it will suffice until we make port next. Besides, I needed to wash my hair. I was beginning to smell like you."
"Ouch," Jack said, flailing onto his back and feigning a gunshot wound to the chest. "Watch it, darlin', I'm fragile."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Yes, I know." The moment having passed. She hoisted the sheet up over her breasts, drying her chest as she went. "You were cross last night."
Jack sighed. "I know. M'sorry. I tried not to take it out on you."
"You didn't," she assured him. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't tell you were cross." A few moments passed as she continued to pat herself dry, running her fingers through her damp hair and using it as a comb. "So do you plan on telling me what's bothering you or do you plan on being solemn and grumpy forever?"
Jack sighed and sat up in bed, turning around and placing his feet on the floor. He would have to tell her sooner or later, lest she find out on her own the hard way. He patted the space beside him. "Come sit with me, Lizzie."
"I'm glad to see you've come to your senses," she said with a smile. She crossed the room towards him and bent her neck, gently kissing his lips before sitting beside him. She turned inwards and took one of his hands in both of hers. It didn't take a woman with exceptional observational talents to tell that he was frightened. It was more than enough to make her uneasy.
"Elizabeth, I need to tell you something," he said, instantly berating himself for being so pathetically obvious. "You won't like it."
"It wouldn't be the first time," she replied with a nervous laugh. "Just tell me, Jack."
He sighed again, almost mad at himself for putting her through this. "I'm not making it out of this." Instantly he felt her disposition change. Her hands went rigid and he could tell by her change in posture that everything about her was tense.
"No," she said, her voice flat and plain.
"Eliz—"
"No." She released his hand and stood up, walking away from him. Her voice was growing panicky, angry… frightened. "You don't get to do this."
He sighed and looked away from her, his eyes going back only when he was at his most daring. "You have a right to prepare yourself," he said quietly.
She spun around, little droplets of water flying from her hair as she did so. "How dare you!" she shouted. His eyes grew wide. He was about to encourage her to keep her voice down when she continued. "How dare you do this to me!"
"What?" Jack's face was a mixture of a pout and sheer frustration. "Darling, your pain and anguish will be much less if you have time to deal with this before—"
"How dare you…" her voice was low and angry now. "How dare you just give up like this."
"I'm not giving up," he protested, standing up. "I'm just trying to make this easier for you."
"Oh yes," she cried, tears forming in her eyes. "Informing me of your imminent death is certainly the way to make this nightmare easier." Both stood in silence for several moments before she found the courage to speak again. When she did, her voice cracked with the effort to control herself, and any attempt to suppress her emotions failed. "Jack… don't you want to stay with me?"
"More than anything," he said quietly, not trusting himself to look at her face, contorted with anguish and sadness. He was forced to look up, however, when she stalked across the room. She placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her.
"If you let yourself remain convinced that Jones is going to win then he probably will. You will sabotage yourself into an early grave and as your almost-wife I refuse to let that happen." Her breath caught in her throat. "Jack—I'm begging you. Fight… if for nothing else, fight for me. Please promise… please promise me you won't give up."
He stood there, just watching her, mortified and angry with himself for causing the hurt beneath her teary eyes. An apology wouldn't make things better. Further arguing his point wouldn't make things better, either. As he stood there, looking at what he'd caused, he knew she was right. He had to keep going. He had to keep fighting, for her. He smiled and for the first time in a long time, it was a real smile, not just one he'd concocted to make her feel better.
"I promise," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her still wet body and kissing the top of her head. "It's not over 'til it's over."
"Damn straight," she sniffled, burying her head against his chest. "And don't you ever talk like that again or I'll be forced to slap you."
Jack let out a slight grunt. "Fair enough," he mumbled. "But I advise you not to get dressed. You'll be needin' another bath."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, grinning at him, knowing full-well where this was going. "I'm already clean."
"Ye won't be when I get through with you," he said, bending down and quickly grabbing her by the waist. He hoisted her off her feet and carried her sideways towards the bed, leaving her to shriek and giggle, and leaving the crew to roll their eyes as they went on with their business outside.
A/N: That's it for this chapter! Thanks for reading, now go review!
See you next time!