Disclaimer: Hmm... I own a cherry-red electric guitar, a Louis Vuitton wallet, and an eight-year-old miniature dachshund, but I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. DARN!
Author's Notes: Officially the shortest chapter I've ever written, but it's an update all the same. This one moves the plot a bit further, and a portion of the prophecy is revealed... The motives behind the actions are revealed, and there's even a moment of... oops. Almost gave it away--ENJOY!
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Devil's Riddle
By: MJ
Chapter Ten: He Brought Company
"Will you help me, James?" Elizabeth whispered at the end of her story; watching his face carefully, she was trying to catch his emotions. "Can you help me solve this riddle?"
"Elizabeth," James sighed. "I-I—who else knows of this riddle?"
"Just Jack and me," she shrugged her shoulders, standing up suddenly. She began to pace the deck, "That's how we have our heading. We used his compass to find what I truly, desperately need—a way to find Will!" She said, looking back at James, determined. He shook his head and sighed.
"Lizzie, I… I think it's a trick."
"A trick?"
"Yes," James nodded, beginning to pace as she stopped. "Why—why would the devil help you recover a soul he just gained? What help would that do to him?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth let out a breath.
"Do you have a piece of paper on you?" James asked quickly. Elizabeth looked at him curiously.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you have something where we could write this riddle down? Dissect it, if you will?" He asked again, and she understood.
"I… yes! Will—he had a notebook," she said, moving to her lover's abandoned things. She opened the little book—glancing only briefly at his entries—and tore out an empty page. She dove further into his bag and pulled out a single charcoal pencil. "Here," she sat beside James again, and wrote out the riddle, leaving space for writing.
"Do you remember Melusine's prophecy? The one that told William what he had to do?" James asked, thinking about it further.
"I… I can try," she offered, and he sighed.
"We can do this, Lizzie… I have faith," James whispered, kneeling in front of her as she wrote.
"Good… I seemed to have lost mine when I lost Will…"
"William," Charlotte called towards her son, who was walking down the beach rather quickly. Bill, who was holding her in his arms, looked up as well. "Where are you going?"
"I need to think, Mum," Will called back, not even glancing at his parents. In truth, he needed to get away from them, because seeing them so in love and together only made him think more about Elizabeth and how long it would be before he was to see her again. This made him jealous of what his parents had, which made him sick to his stomach with disgust in himself. He needed time to think clearly about how to get through eternity like this…
"Is he alright?" Bill asked Charlotte, who sighed.
"No, Bill, he's not," she said lightly, watching her son kick a stone away as he walked, "but… there's really nothing we can do to help."
Norrington and Elizabeth had spent close to the whole day sitting in the crew's chambers, dissecting both the prophecy and the riddle, and how both came into play when it went to rescuing Will from a fate he didn't choose.
"We're not getting anywhere!" Elizabeth huffed, frustrated, as they read the same line over and over again. James sighed.
"We'll… get there eventually," he offered, but she shook her head.
"At the pace we're going, it'll be too late," she said quietly, looking at the paper again. Her brown eyes scanned its contents once more before she sighed. "Oh, Will," she breathed, defeated. She handed the paper back to James. "I have watch tonight," she told him, looking out the open door. "I'd like to get some sleep beforehand… If you'll excuse me," she squeezed his shoulder before she disappeared behind the curtained "room" the men of the ship had made for her. She waited a few moments, before she heard James leave and shut the door behind him. She let out a breath before she dropped the little notebook onto her hammock, her fingers softly tracing the lettering on the front. "Maybe this will help me," she whispered, opening up the pages with gentle care and love.
June 19
I am finally well enough to be able to write down my thoughts to get them all in order. After my dealings on the Isle del Diablo, I didn't have much time to record my dreams and put them against the prophecy.
For the past few nights, I've been having this reoccurring dream of me… in this… sort of… hell, perhaps? Purgatory? I don't know, but it's not pleasant…
Looking for a more recent date, Elizabeth skipped ahead in his journal, but stopped, however, when she caught her name.
July 1
Today marks the day that I proposed to Elizabeth, exactly a year ago… I wonder if she remembers, or if she even still wears the ring. I know it wasn't much—a simple golden band with a single, small—no, miniscule—diamond… but I just hope she knows that no matter how simple it is, all the love and devotion I put into making it special for her is enough of a reason to wear it…
Its days like today that I wonder if I'm going to be able to go through with all of this. We're about a day out from the Spanish Florida, which means I am just one step closer from taking either her life or my own… I wonder… if I die… if I would go to heaven or to hell… I don't think it would matter—wherever I would be would be hell without my Elizabeth…
She closed the book in a rush, suddenly nauseous from the thoughts Will's words sent through her. Unconsciously, she grasped the necklace she wore around her neck—a simple leather band on which was Will's ring—and she let the tears begin to fall as she fell into an uncomfortable sleep, the journal forgotten on the ground…
Will looked behind him, not able to see his parents anymore. Turning, he sat in the sand, watching the dark, black ocean before him wearily. He wrapped his father's coat around him tighter, as if his father was holding him like he used to when Will was a child. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the fake sea air.
His nose twitched as another familiar smell graced his nose. Roses. Why would there be roses near the ocean? Roses don't grow in any of the islands, but perhaps this was something different for the underworld. Perhaps…
Didn't Elizabeth always smell like roses? His head jerked up at the thought. He remembered her perfume so quickly now—roses and… vanilla. Was he getting a whiff of that, too? Oh, he knew Hades was cruel, but this was… inconceivably so. Why would Hades torture him like--?
"Will?" A small, almost frantic voice called from behind him.
This is so cruel… Now I'm hearing her!
"Will--? Will… please tell me that's you!"
He opened his eyes and turned around, his heart skipping a beat—"Elizabeth!"
"Will!" She cried, running towards him as he stood. He held out his arms, spread them wide open, but she stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes widening and her mouth gaping. "Oh… oh my god, Will…" She breathed, and he followed her stare. The wound was still bleeding. He frowned and tried to close his coat but found that he was no longer able.
"Don't worry, Elizabeth, I can't feel it… honest," he whispered, wondering if this was real. She smiled, looking into his eyes.
"Oh, Will," she breathed, her eyes glancing over his face. "I've missed you so much."
"And I, you," he said, moving closer. She was cautious, though, completely aware of his wound. Finally, he brought his hands to her face, his fingers caressing her cheeks. He could feel her, but it was as if she wasn't there… entirely. Confused, he attempted to pull her into a hug, but found she was resisting. She placed a hand on his chest (momentarily forgetting his wound) before she hissed and stepped away. "What's wrong, Lizzie?" He asked quietly, watching her. She shook her head. "Lizzie?" He asked, moving closer. "Lizzie!" He shouted now, and she began to back away, frightened…
"Lizzie!"
She jolted awake at the sound of Jack's voice shouting at her. She jumped up, sitting bold upright and staring blankly at him. "What?" She asked quietly, finding her voice hoarse.
"Ye were screamin' as if som'one was tryin' ter kill ye," he shrugged, backing away. James was behind him, and he sighed.
"Why don't we not work on the prophecy for a while… since it seemed to have upset you so," he whispered, and she nodded. "Elizabeth—what's on your hand?" He asked suddenly, pulling it towards him. She gasped.
Her hand was covered in blood.
Will's blood.
Will was running at a break-neck speed back towards his parents, a look of horror crossing his face. Somewhere, inside of him, he felt something begin to bubble, and he realized that he had hope. Hope was bubbling up inside of him, making him nearly giddy at the thought.
I have a chance to communicate with Elizabeth…
"Mum! Father!" He called about fifty feet away. He saw their faces turn to look at him.
"Do you think he saw her?" Charlotte whispered to Bill, watching her son smile for the first time since he had joined them. Bill nodded.
"Looks like it."
"The poor lad," she whispered. "I remember what those dreams used to do to me. They tore me up inside… They were the death of me."
"We have to tell him, you know," Bill said after a moment's pause. He looked at Charlotte. "We have to let him know that he can't keep up the communication."
"It'll take too much out of both of them."
"Mum!" Will said, finally having caught up to them. "Father! —you won't believe—I can't believe—did it really happen—oh, Mum… Father… I saw her!" He began panting, collapsing in the sand next to him. "Elizabeth… she was here—and I know it was her… I saw her…"
"Will," Charlotte tried, but Will was too excited to pay attention.
"I could touch her, and she could touch me…" he said, looking at his hands. "And her smell… her wonderful smell… Roses and vanilla—it was so intoxicating," he breathed, looking up at them. "When… will I see her again?"
"Will, you ca--"
"Soon, son," Charlotte said, interrupting Bill. She sent him a look that she would talk to him later before she reached across and squeezed Will's shoulder. "The next time she needs you… she'll find you."
"Are you hurt?" James asked quickly, moving Elizabeth about to see if she had any wounds that could have produced the blood. She shook her head, her eyes still on her hand.
"It's not my blood."
"Whose is it, then?" James asked impatiently, not entirely in the mood for something like this.
"Will's."
"Oh, come off it, Elizabeth!" Norrington said, standing up. He walked away slightly, frustrated, before he turned back to her. "It's not possible, Elizabeth."
"Not probable," she argued, looking at her hand faintly. "I was having this dream… it was so odd, James—I was walking down this beach, and I could suddenly see this figure, sitting in the distance. Not knowing where I was, I went closer… the closer I came, the more he looked like Will. I called his name, and he turned around… It was him, James… It was Will… But something… something didn't feel right. It was as if it really wasn't him; his wound was still bleeding, and he looked horrible…" She sighed softly, looking up at him. "He hugged me, but I pushed away… I pushed on his chest—and that must be where this blood is from, James."
"What are you trying to say, Elizabeth?" He asked impatiently. Elizabeth sighed.
"I'm… not sure…" she said, looking back down at her hands. "But… I think that this means I have a way of communicating with Will."
Elizabeth walked on deck for her evening watch, her hand now clean, but her mind muddled with confusing thoughts and notions about what had just happened. She shook her head and sighed; she couldn't have a distracted mind during a watch—thoughtlessness could cost them all their lives.
She nodded towards Jack, at the helm, who was talking with Barbossa in what appeared to be a heated conversation. Shaking her head, she took the spyglass from Marty, who was coming off of his watch, and began climbing up the rigging towards the crow's nest. She got comfortable and kept her eye on the horizon, looking for any sign of nearing ships. In the mean time, she was picking up bits of the conversation from bellow.
"Since when d'ye listen t' a bloody woman for yer headin'?" Barbossa growled at Jack, who scoffed.
"Since Elizabeth knows what she wants most in this world," Jack said indifferently, gripping the wheel harder, presumably so he wouldn't hit Barbossa.
"An' wha' be tha'? Takin' us on some little cat an' mouse chase to win back her lover?" Barbossa asked, amused. "Ye've never cared about nobody but yerself… why are ye startin' t' now…"
"Same reason ye are, mate," Jack said, his eyes planted on the horizon. "'Cause 'eaven knows ye can't look me in the eye and tell me ye didn't know Will was goin' t'have to kill 'imself… I mean, ye could, but it doesn't mean I'd believe ya even if'n ye did." Jack shrugged, looking back at Barbossa with a smirk.
"I see we have an understandin' o' sorts."
"Aye… we do."
Elizabeth slid back downwards, her back to the edge of the crows nest, her eyes staring out towards the other wall that enclosed her. Suddenly, it was all too much. The space was too small; the air was escaping her—
"That's it," she whispered, standing up and looking down at the men, now looking more like little specks of black against the brown of the deck. Suddenly, everything seemed to click; everything, in that moment, made sense. Barbossa and Tia Dalma had known all along that Will was going to have to kill either himself or herself in order for Jack to come back. Tia Dalma had been baiting him to kill her… but why? Why did Tia Dalma try to make it so clear to Will that she was meant to be with Jack? Ana Maria had told her everything that had happened while she had been away, but neither of them knew why…
The real question, however, was why Barbossa went along with it. Now… now it all made sense. The two had an understanding.
Tia would get… Jack back?
Because…
"She's in love with him," she whispered, her eyes scanning for the island woman. Sure enough, she was across the deck from the pair, watching them closely. She looked back at Barbossa. "And he… wants the treasure the devil has to offer…"
Don't let his surpassing greed,
Become your unfortunate fate,
Gold and silver are just things,
They do not equal love and hate
Now, it was all about the questions this new information brought, and the existing questions left unanswered. Strangely, Elizabeth felt a bit freer with this new bout of information, because it brought something more that she had once lost in the chaos of it all.
She had hope.
"I want us to make a slow appearance—friendly and nothing but. In fact," Beckett said, looking at his crew. "I want it to look like a passenger ship," he said, pacing the deck. "Mister Mercer," he said, turning to his old comrade, who nodded. "Find the most feminine looking crew member, and make them look like a woman… find a few, actually." Mercer grinned wickedly, and Beckett turned and grabbed the railing.
"You're mine, Jack Sparrow…"
"Ship ahoy!" Elizabeth called, an hour of so later, spotting the white sails on the horizon.
"What colors is she flyin'?" Jack called from the helm. Elizabeth lifted her eyepiece and looked. She saw… a couple. An adorable couple at the bow of the ship looking very much in love. The man at the helm wasn't wearing a uniform, but they were flying the Union Jack.
"They're a passenger ship—most likely going to England," she offered. She pushed the spyglass back in her pocket and began to climb down the rigging. She landed on the ground to turn and come face to face with a grim Jack Sparrow. She handed him the spyglass, but he dismissed it.
"Only problem wif it bein' a passenger ship, luv," he said, looking towards the ship.
"What's that?"
"We're sailin' towards Africa, luv," he put the eyepiece to his eye and paled. He handed it back to her and she looked again, seeing five or six more ships behind the first one. Jack lowered a hand and grabbed the heart. "And 'e brough' comp'ny."
What to expect for next chapter:
Elizabeth confronts Jack.
Charlotte's back story is revealed; how did she die?
The crew gets one step closer to gaining Will back, but...
Will they survive the epic sea battle?
Enjoy the movie! Three more days!