Chapter 19

The night clung to the Black Pearl like wet cloth, heavy and oppressive, its weight pressing down upon the ship's creaking timbers. Fog curled around the masts and rigging, a living thing, winding itself into the ropes, drifting across the deck in cool, slithering tendrils. The air smelled of brine and decay, an ancient staleness that set Cutler's teeth on edge.

It had taken long, far too long before they would reach the island Elizabeth had found, the island of the lighthouse. And with every inch closer to the shore, it was like a darkness was ready to extinguish any source of light, any source of warmth that was known to exist. Because to Cutler's concern the orange beam was faltering, not being as strong as it was once they discovered the land.

He stood alone by the balustrade, the iron grip of his hand pressing so tightly against the dark wood that it felt like his bones would splinter before he let go. His other hand cradled the compass, no, not cradled, strangled it, as if he meant to force it to reveal its secrets.

He turned it over and over. And over.

The motion was obsessive, a ritual born of desperation, a habit that crept into his every idle moment. Cutler's hand always found a calmness within as he tossed and turned something between his fingers, but calmth was hard to find right now.

Turning the compass was something he had done countless times now, his fingers tracing the aged wood, the edge of the brass casing, his thumb brushing the latch before flicking it open, his eyes glued to the red-tipped arrow within.

Always, he expected the same result. And yet, each time he looked, his heart pounded like the desperate fists of a man locked inside a coffin. The arrow spun restlessly, an insidious mockery of hope. A flurry of red, circling, circling, and then slowing.. until it locked into place.

Pointing. Guiding.

But the orange glow from the beam, that thin thread of light lancing through the fog, felt weaker now.

Distant. Flickering. Like a candle guttering in a storm.

The compass shuddered in his hand, its red arrow trembling as though in response to his anguish. He wanted to tear it open, rip apart the pieces and find whatever magic lurked inside. To make it bend to his will. But instead, he tightened his grip until the wood bit cruelly into his palm, drawing blood. His fingers trembled. The pain was real, and it sharpened his mind. But it did nothing to quiet the clamor of his thoughts.

The damned thing refused to behave. They were close. But not close enough.

The compass remained stubbornly silent, its glow faint and sickly. Cutler's eyes burned. His knees felt weak, his head dizzy. And for a moment, he wondered if he was losing his mind.

Because if she was truly lost, then so was he.

But still, he would find her. Or die trying.

Cutler stood apart from the others, his back to the gathered crew and his eyes locked on the compass. The needle trembled and danced in fits, flickering wildly before fixing itself on a point beyond the Pearl's bow. But the orange glow from the beam, the guiding light, faltered like a flame struggling against the wind.

Every time it dimmed, his chest tightened.

'Tell me I'm not the only one seein' it' Barbossa grunted, his eyes narrowed as he stared into the fog-cloaked distance. 'Land. Movin' in and out of sight like some trick of the light.'

'Not a trick, Hector. Just the Locker being particularly unkind to us. We've been here before, so we know how it works' Jack replied with a flippant shrug, the other resting lazily on the helm. He tilted his head to squint at the mist like he could see through it by sheer force of will.

'You think that's it, then? You think we arrived?' Elizabeth asked, even though she knew this was the very land the lighthouse was spotted on, it all felt still so unreal. She stood by Jack's side, arms folded tightly over her chest, her finger softly tracing the edges of her pregnant belly. The sharpness in her gaze hadn't softened since their conversation about the Locker. 'This is the place she's trapped?'

'It must be. When you all came to save me it brought you to the very land I was at right away, did it not?' Jack's lips curled into a grin, laced with concern still, and it lacked its usual sparkle. 'This must be our lady of light's own special hell. If that's what we may call it'

Barbossa scratched his beard. 'All I see is fog and madness. Aye, and the lot of you seem content to chase shadows. I need to know what we're hunting' Barbossa eyed the trio with a suspicion. It seemed inevitable that Barbossa would demand answers. It appeared the further they sailed into the fog-wreathed abyss, the clearer it became to him this was no mission by the King's order. The madness of the Locker had its own pull, and whatever cursed place they were now approaching reeked of something far more personal.

'So, all this fuss and trouble... it ain't for the King you're servin', is it?' Barbossa's voice was low and sharp, the edges of his words were laced with not something hostile, but more like he was considering whether this was worth it. His gaze flickered from Jack's flippant innocent face to Elizabeth's tight-lipped determination laced with concern, and finally to Cutler's haunted posture, his back still toward them hanging on the balustrade still.

'No man chases somethin' so desperate unless it's his own blood.. or his own damnation.' Barbossa spoke, his eyes shifting from Cutler to Jack and Elizabeth.

Jack's smile was as slippery as oil. It was unclear whether Jack was enjoying this, another moment to torture Cutler with endless teasing humiliation, or if Jack was truly concerned Barbossa would abandon the chase. 'Not a bad guess, Hector. Though I'd say it's a little of both.'

Barbossa's gaze narrowed, focusing on Cutler with a gleam of revelation. 'So, Beckett.. who is it you're tryin' to drag outta Hell itself? Someone worth throwin' every bit of sanity you had overboard, no doubt.'

Cutler didn't answer, his eyes trained on the flickering beam of orange light stretching out across the sea. The silence itself was a confession.

Barbossa let out a bark of laughter, cruel and amused. 'Well, well.. Never took you for the type to chase after a ghost. Tell me, who's the poor soul you let slip through your fingers?'

Cutler's knuckles whitened around the compass, his voice strained but steady as he still didn't look behind him to answer. He hissed between his teeth. 'She's not a ghost'

Barbossa's grin twisted with interest. 'Ah.. so we're here to pull some poor damsel from the depths of her own nightmare.'

His voice softened to a mocking whisper. 'Someone you couldn't protect the first time 'round, am I right?'

Cutler's gaze finally snapped back to Barbossa, his eyes blazing with a rage that bordered on madness. But all he said, through gritted teeth, was: 'Her name is Kate.'

Barbossa's grin faltered, curiosity mingling with something close to pity. 'And the depths of Hell itself ain't enough to stop you, eh?'

'No.' Cutler's voice was ice, determined, his gaze sharp as steel while his eyes turned back to the dark waves in front of him, to the point inside those damned waters he had been staring at. 'Nothing is.'

Barbossa looked from Cutler to Elizabeth and Jack, his grin slowly returning, but there was a hardness to it now, an edge honed by memory. 'Well, seems madness still rules these waters. But take it from a man who's clawed his way outta this wretched place before, whatever she's facin' in there, it's bound to be worse than you're reckonin'. And worse yet if it's built from her own misery.'

His gaze lingered on Cutler, something almost resembling respect mingling with disdain. 'Best be sure you've the spine for what comes next, Beckett. The Locker ain't kind to the desperate.'

Cutler gripped the compass like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity. Barbossa's words hung over him like storm clouds, but he forced himself to focus on the orange beam faintly piercing the fog ahead.

'Thirteen years..' Jack muttered, eyes fixed on the ghostly horizon. His voice held a weight Cutler wasn't used to hearing.

Elizabeth glanced at him. 'What about thirteen years?'

'That's how long she's been in there.' Jack's fingers toyed anxiously with the beads in his hair. 'All alone, in that damned place.'

'I know the Locker is cruel, Jack,' Elizabeth said gently. 'But Kate is stronger than you think.'

'Strength's got nothing to do with it.' Jack's voice wavered, bitterness bleeding into his words. 'I was only in there for a few months, Lizzy. And it nearly drove me mad.'

Elizabeth's eyes widened. 'She's been here.. for over a decade'

'Exactly.' Jack swallowed, his gaze flicking nervously between her and Cutler.

'Time don't work right here. It stretches, twists. And when you're on your own..' He hesitated. 'All you've got are your own nightmares clawing at you.'

The quiet dread in his voice unsettled Cutler more than he cared to admit. Jack rarely showed fear. Yet here he was, rattled by the mere memory of his own time in the Locker.

'It.. it messes with you,' Jack continued, staring out over the water like he could still see that forsaken desert stretching endlessly before him. 'Your mind plays tricks. Every little fear you've ever had, laid out before you like a feast for the crows.'

He released a shuddering breath. 'And that was only months. But Kate.. she's been stuck there for thirteen bloody years.'

Cutler's heart stilled. He had known, of course. The time that had passed. But hearing it spoken aloud by Jack, someone who had experienced the torment firsthand, made it all the more unbearable.

'She called out to me' Jack said, his voice strained. 'Back when I was there. When I thought I was losing my mind.' He glanced at Cutler, guilt etched into his features. 'I told you before. I heard her voice. She called my name. She was..'

'Awake' Cutler whispered, realization striking him like a physical blow, he realized after Jack's words only just now.

'She was awake' Cutler could hardly bring the words from his throat that threatened to cut from him all his air. Cutler took a slight step back because of the revelation inside his mind, holding onto the balustrade that seemed to prevent him from collapsing.

Jack's gaze darkened in utter sorrow. 'Aye. And if she was awake then, she's been awake the whole time.'

Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth. 'But.. the curse. It was meant to make her sleep.'

'Maybe not' Jack said grimly. 'Or maybe it did for a while. But something woke her up. And if she's been awake, wandering that place, calling out..'

The unspoken horror was palpable.

Cutler's chest constricted, his breath turning shallow. 'You mean to say.. she's been conscious, trapped in that nightmare.. all these years?'

Jack nodded, his eyes haunted.

'Thirteen years..' Cutler's voice trembled, low and tight like a rope about to snap. 'Thirteen years she's been trapped in that hell!' Cutler's voice was suddenly much louder, filling the quiet upon the Pearl's deck, the tone laced with anger. And he now fully turned to Jack.

Jack hesitated, his expression torn between guilt and stubborn defensiveness. His fingers twitched restlessly, itching for something to hold, something to occupy his hands so he didn't have to meet Cutler's eyes.

'We all thought she was dead, Cutler. The curse, the way it took her..' Jack fumbled for his words, for the teasing tone that usually coated everything he said. It wasn't there. 'No one knew she was.. in here.'

'But you did.' Cutler's voice was sharp, slicing through the air like a dagger. His chest heaved with every breath. 'You heard her calling for you when you were in the Locker. You heard her voice, you told me yourself, and you still left her there.'

Jack's eyes flickered with unease. 'I didn't leave her, mate. I was pulled out before I could do anything.'

'But you left her all the same,' Cutler hissed, his gaze murderous. 'You escaped. You were rescued. And you let her rot.'

The accusation seemed to hit Jack like a musket ball to the chest. He stiffened, but the guilt was clear on his face. 'I didn't know she was alive. Not really. You think I would've just gone back to the Pearl and carried on if I'd known?'

'You did know!' Cutler's voice rose with fury, echoing across the deck. 'You heard her voice, calling out to you. Begging for help. And you left her. You left her to suffer..'

'She wasn't supposed to be alive!' Jack shot back, eyes blazing. 'What was I supposed to think? I was in the Locker, losing my own bloody mind, seeing things that weren't real. And then, out of nowhere, I hear her voice? You expect me to have known for certain that she was trapped'

'Yes!' Cutler shouted, his voice cracking with anguish. 'You should have known! You should have done something! You should have tried harder!'

'You think I wouldn't have gone after her if I thought there was a chance? I would have sailed into that nightmare a thousand times over if I'd known she was alive.' Jack's voice was carried by the silence and the ocean's waves.

'Words are cheap, Sparrow.'

'And you're a hypocrite, Beckett,' Jack snapped, his fists clenched. 'You think you're the only one who's suffered for this?'

'You think you're the only man here who cares for Kate?' Jack hissed between his teeth, looking down on Cutler who seemed ready to combust out of anger.

'It seems we both failed her then' Jack continued. For a moment Jack watching Cutler's eyes filled with hatred wondered if he'd kill him with his bare hands right there on deck.

'Don't you dare, Jack' Cutler hissed between his teeth, looking up at Jack with his fists tightly together, almost looking ready to strike.

'And you.. you had all your power, your ships, your bloody resources. And you still couldn't save her.' The air between them vibrated with tension, both men breathing hard. Jack knew Cutler wasn't aware of Kate not being dead but trapped in the Locker. But Jack felt the horror of his own guilt almost strangle him.

Cutler's fists trembled at his sides, the fury coursing through him so fiercely he could scarcely breathe. His gaze remained locked onto Jack's, cold and vicious.

'You think I wouldn't if I had known she was out here, that she wasn't dead?!' Cutler was shouting now. 'If I'd known she was alive, trapped, suffering in that place, I would have torn the world apart to find her. I would have razed entire fleets, shattered empires, and damned my own soul if it meant reaching her!'

Jack flinched at the words, his shoulders tightening as though Cutler's rage was a physical force pushing against him. He swallowed hard, but his voice emerged defiant, defensive. 'And yet, even now, it's not enough, is it? All your power, all your damned ships and soldiers. None of it brought her back.'

'Because you failed to tell me!' Cutler's voice cracked, his eyes wild and dark.

'I know we hate each other Sparrow, to the bone' Cutler continued as his eyes bore into Jack's, fierce and unrelenting. 'I know the lengths we've gone to, against each other, trying to destroy the other's world. But Kate was never part of that. She was never meant to be caught between our hatred!'

Jack flinched, the accusation landing like a cannon shot. 'I never meant for her to be.'

'But you sacrificed her anyway, didn't you?' Cutler's words were knives, sharp and cutting. 'You left her in this hell, cast her aside to save your own skin. And all the while, you carried on, drinking, scheming, as if she was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.'

'And now you stand here and want to blame me?' Cutler seethed, his words coming out like venom. 'Then do it. Blame me for everything I've done. For everything I failed to do. But do not stand there and pretend that I would have left her to that misery if I had known.'

The deck was silent but for the lapping of the waves against the Pearl's hull, the creak of the wood underfoot, and the harsh, uneven breaths of the two men squaring off against each other.

'Enough' Elizabeth's voice sliced through the chaos, urgent but with a certain care. She shoved herself between the two men, her hands pressed against Cutler's chest and at the other side Jack, pushing them back away from each other with a slight desperation. Elizabeth didn't want this to end in a fight. 'You're both acting like children.'

'Let go of me' Cutler growled, but his voice wavered. The anger was burning itself out, leaving him with only raw, gnawing pain.

'No,' Elizabeth snapped. 'I've seen what the Locker can do. And the only way we're saving her is if you stop trying to destroy each other.'

'Listen!' Barbossa roared from the helm. His voice was sharp, cutting through their argument. 'Whatever grievances you have, save them. Because we've just hit land.'

The Pearl lurched as it came to a sudden, shuddering halt. The silence that followed was suffocating.

They had arrived.

Cutler's grip on the compass tightened as he moved himself back at his place before his arugment with Jack. He returned to the turning and tossing, obsessively wondering while the compass turned in his hold. He felt sick, the world tilting beneath his feet. She had been awake.

Alone. No reprieve from the torment.

And she had been left there.

Cutler's voice was a whisper, ragged and torn. 'We're here now. And I'll tear apart every corner of that cursed place until I find her.'

Jack glanced at him, there was no mockery in his eyes. Only guilt. And something close to pity.

'We better hope there's something left to find' Jack said softly.

Cutler didn't respond. He couldn't. Because if Jack was right, if the curse had twisted itself into something even worse than they feared.. then Kate's personal hell was far worse than he'd imagined.

And he would never forgive himself for it.