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Loving the Heartless	By : FlameWolf666 Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 5825 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything or anyone from Pirates of the Caribbean. If I did I would have a mansion and 12 cars by now. This is just for fun and I make no profit from this.

Chapter List
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    The first thing Flame became aware of was the roaring, churning nausea in the pit of her stomach. The next thing she became aware of was the fact she was being held in a pair of mismatched arms. Unfortunately her gullet took precedence over her curiosity and she was throwing opening the porthole to vomit whatever was left of her meager dinner. “Sarah,” rasped a concerned, familiar voice as a half human hand came to rest on her back. Gagging helplessly, the former captain could only heave and shudder until the wave ended; falling backwards into her companion’s arms. “Ye’re gettin’ worse,” he hissed in a worried voice, pressing a slimy, tentacle covered hand against her forehead.
    “Jones?” she croaked in a wispy voice, clutching to his sea-worn lapel as she tried to force her eyes to focus.
    “Aye. I sent Bootstrap out with the ‘Pearl’ t’find Sparrow and his crew. He be flyin’ a white flag but I doubt that’d be enough t’entice Jack t’stop,” came an accented rumble as she was gently laid down on the cool, dirty sheets.
    “Shoulda had him paint a wolf silhouette on it. That was our secret code for me being in distress,” she replied in a weak voice, closing her turquoise eyes as the world tilted and blurred around her.
    “C’n ye eat?” came a worried rasp as the bed shifted. Hazarding to open one eye, the fading female saw the legendary male standing next to her bed.
    “I’m afraid it’s too late for that now. Any food I put down now will just come back up later. I need to conserve my strength and not allow myself to get dehydrated by vomiting,” Flame replied in a weak voice as her eyes slid closed once more. Just the few seconds they had been open had caused unbearable nausea.
    “Then we be lucky tha’ the ‘Pearl’ c’n travel fast,” Davy sighed in a worried voice, running his shaky left hand over his bulbous head.
    “Jack!” hollered the shrill and all too unpleasant voice of Elizabeth, making the hung-over captain wake up in a foul mood.
    “The ‘Black Pearl’ is trailing us!” came Wil’s urgent yell, waking him up fully in an instant. There was only one reason why Jones would have sent the supernaturally fast ship, to catch and kill him. He would have to hope the ship he had commandeered would be fast enough to keep some distance between them while he and his crew fled.
    “Get th’longboats ready, we’ll try t’get as close t’shore as possible before we make a run fer it,” Sparrow ordered, swaying as he got to his feet and got dressed. His head throbbed like a rotten tooth, making the dreadlocked male regret the amount of Rum he had put away the other night.
    Throwing on his hat and coat, Jack ran out onto the deck of his ship, heading to the helm to assess the position of the ‘Pearl’. His almost black eyes widened when he saw her flying a white flag. Either it was an elaborate, cruel ruse or something was terribly wrong. “Hold a moment,” he ordered, holding up a half gloved hand to still the frantic movement of his crew below. Elizabeth, Will and Mr. Gibbs looked up at him like he had lost his mind but Sparrow paid the trio very little mind. The only thing he could think of was how Sarah had looked when he last saw her and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
    “Drop th’sails! We’re comin’ to a full stop,” ordered the pirate, glaring down at his crew when they all stared up at him.
    “Jack, we have to escape! That white flag could be a trap!” Wil reasoned, looking from the longboat to the man above him.
    “Escape if ye feel ye need ta, I be stayin’,” Jack barked, only relaxing slightly when his crew did as he asked. Only Wil and elizabeth kept preparing an escape vessel. Soon the rest of his crew joined them, not that he could blame them. If he was in their shoes, he would be cursing the captain as a fool while rowing away as fast as his arms could manage.
    As the ‘Pearl’ steadily grew closer, his crew poured off the ship like rats; leaving him with Wil, Elizabeth and Mr. Gibbs. “Jack, don’t be a fool. Jones has been after yer soul fer a long time. He be doin’ anythin’ t’get his slimy hands on it,” the bearded man whispered, placing a large hand on the younger pirate’s arm.
    “Aye, I know Mr. Gibbs. Sarah is with him and last I saw, she didn’t look well,” Jack replied, a worried look on his tanned face as he watched the dark ship pull up next to them.
    “Ye mean th’lil’ girl who used to ship wi’ya six years ago?” Gibbs asked, his brown eyes shimmering with fond memory. Joy was quickly replaced by stark fear as the older male realized just what his captain had told him.
    “What she be doin’ with th’likes of Jones,” he hissed, fear for the woman shining in his dark eyes as he clasped his captain’s jacket.
    “She and he have a history, long afore he became what ye know him as now. She has some fool idea that she c’n save him,” Jack replied, slightly surprised that Wil and Elizabeth had yet to take off. It would only be a few more minutes before the ‘Pearl’ was within boarding distance. Soon it would be too late for them to escape if this was, indeed, a trap.
    “You two best be off if yer leavin’ at all,” the infamous pirate hollered to the pair, knowing full well Gibbs wasn’t going anywhere now. Not only was the man loyal but he and Sarah had formed quite a relationship, almost like a father and daughter. The older male had doted on the woman, often stealing her little trinkets or taking care of her when she had been sick. If anything happened to her, the bearded man would be just as affected as Sparrow.
    “Jack, this is crazy!” Elizabeth cried, her and her fair haired lover looking rather torn. Their survival instincts were screaming at them to flee while their loyalty yelled at them to stay.
    “I know luv. You and Wil get offa here. If this be a trap, there be no need fer ye t’get caught,” Jack yelled to the pair, worry for them tugging at his heart faintly. The blonde male only stared at him assessingly, guilt all over his handsome face.
    “Go on, ye c’n always rescue me later,” the dreadlocked male replied, shooing the pair with his half gloved hands, his loose, white sleeves billowing as he moved. The lovebirds only gave him equally guilty looks before they climbed into the longboat and lowered it down.
    “I don’t even have t’ask if ye be stayin’ Mr. Gibbs. Just keep yerself safe,” Jack whispered to the man standing beside him, his former ship pulling up beside them as Wil and Elizabeth rowed toward shore.
    “Ye don’ have t’worry ‘bout me Jack. I c’n take care o’ meself,” the older male replied with a dangerous grin, watching as a gangplank was flung over to join the two ships. Only one male came over, Bootstrap.
    “Hello Jack,” sighed the worn looking, deformed male, walking toward them slowly with his empty hands held outwards.
    Jones paced the tiny room like a caged tiger, his mismatched hands clasped behind his back as he limped awkwardly. Flame lay on the bed, either sleeping or keeping her eyes shut; her thin chest moving shallowly. Every now and then the transformed captain would stop and give the sickly female a deeply worried, guilty glance. He could never erase the things he had done to her simply because she had made him remember her but right now all he cared about was making her better. To have any hope of achieving that he needed Jack’s help.
    Sighing, the cthulu-esque captain grabbed his cane before lurching over to his door. Sitting and waiting was going to drive him mad. Right now, he was going to do something that would help his chances with Calypso; he was going to resume his duties as ferryman of the dead. There was no danger of losing Bootstrap if he moved the ship, all his crew member were able to instinctually locate the ‘Dutchman’ when separated or sent out on an errand. This allowed him the freedom to go about his duties while his crew delegated things for him. Giving Flame one last, worried glance, Jones left the room and shut the door behind himself.
    Lumbering his way up to the helm of his ship, the monstrous captain stood behind the wheel and glared down at his deformed crew. “Prepare t’go to the ‘Locker’,” he hissed, feeling just the slightest bit of his normal sadistic pleasure when his men gave him varying degrees of horrified looks.
    “It be long past time tha’ I resume my duties,” the tentacled male snarled before closing his eyes and concentrating on a connection that had been long dormant. It was like opening a floodgate, filling his body with a rush of spiritual power as a dark vortex began to form under the ‘Dutchman’. His crew scrambled to tie down the sails and cannons before fleeing to below deck. Only Jones himself could safely stay above while the ship sank into an entirely different dimension. A dimension where souls waited in purgatory for him to lead them onto the next life. With how long he had been neglecting his duties, there was bound to be millions and they were more than likely pissed.
    Gripping onto the wheel tightly, the beastly pirate merely braced himself as the ‘Flying Dutchman’ lowered itself into the swirling portal bow first. As the ghostly ship moved between realms, it was surrounded by a glowing, swirling whirlpool that formed a long corridor. The closer the large vessel got to the end, the more Jones became aware of angry, bitter voices whispering. He had wronged a lot of the souls here, had even used the spirits themselves to repair his ship without their permission. He would be lucky if the ‘Dutchman’ wasn’t simply swamped as soon as it appeared.
    Flame was awoken by the ship rocking violently back and forth, making her instincts kick in. She was on her feet and looking for a weapon before she became fully conscious, trying to ignore the lurching of her temperamental stomach. Managing to not go into dry heaves through sheer force of will alone, the former captain grabbed the nearest cutlass and ran out onto the deck. What she saw nearly made her jaw drop through the rotted wood.
    They appeared to be in the middle of a black, completely dead ocean. An ocean that was filled with the glowing effigies of the dead Jones had long neglected. Right now the rightfully pissed shades were doing their level best to capsize the ‘Dutchman’ to take out their frustrations on the wayward ferryman and his crew. “Hold yer wrath! I have come to take ye all on to th’next life,” the octopus-like pirate announced to the rapidly growing mob of souls. This only served in making the nearly insane souls more agitated. If this went on for too much longer, they would end up swamping the ship and adding the crew to their numbers.
    Her body was moving forward before she even noticed, sprinting to the helm and clambering onto the ornately carved railing. Surveying the surging wave of the dead, the former captain cupped her hands around her mouth, took a deep breath and let loose a loud imitation of a wolf howl. This sound effectively caused everything to stop in place, the dead and the crew all turning to look at her. “I know you’re angry, you have every right to be after being stuck in an endless, changeless nothing while mere inches from paradise. It must have been maddening and I cannot blame you for your rage. But capsizing and drowning us will not free you from your prison. If you kill Jones, there will be no one to take his place and you will be trapped here forever. If you can put aside your fury, we can help you move on,” the female pleaded in a loud, booming voice, a huge shock given her current condition.
    One lone ghost pulled himself from the crowd, a tired, worn look on his unnaturally pale, bearded face. He was washed of all color with the exception of a very pale green and he was transparent to the point of barely being visible. A phantom sword stuck out from his chest and his face looked haggard, sad and lost. “Ye cannot understand wha’ we’ve been goin’ through lass bu’ I can see th’wisdom o’ yer words. Wha’ assurance do we have tha’ this here dog will continue t’do his job,” the shade husked his voice sounding like it was coming from nowhere and everywhere.
    “All I can offer is the information that he has replaced his heart. If you need any proof of his change, I am willing to offer it,” Flame replied, her sea-green eyes shining with determination as she glared down at the continuously growing mob.
    “What proof would ye be willin’ t’offer?” the old soul whispered, a resigned look on his hauntingly sad face. The ex-captain only gave the massive crowd a grim look before simply leaning forward and letting herself fall into the dead waters below.
    As soon as he had seen her on the decorative backing, Jones had felt an ominous churning in the pit of his gut. When she had begun talking about providing proof of his conviction, he began to move toward her; feeling as if he was running through molasses. When she actually leaned forward and began to fall he had been close enough for the tentacle on his right hand to touch her shirt. Then she was plunging downward and his newly replaced heart went with her, his dead eyes widening with abject terror. Within seconds time seemed to hit fast forward and the feared pirate was peeling off his heavy jacket before diving over after her.
    Breath left her body as soon as her body hit the ethereal water, her heart also halting in her chest. The startled souls that had parted on her collision, now swam down after her; the old pirate from earlier grabbing a hold of her and dragging her upwards. They broke the surface with a speed that made her head spin but as soon as her body was freed from the fluid it began to function again. She barely had enough time to really comprehend what had happened before another, much more heavy body hit the water nearby. “Davy,” she gasped out in a breathless voice, her body still weak from very nearly dying.
    “Don’t worry ‘bout Jones. He be immune to th’effect o’ th’water. I’m jest surprised he came in after ye,” the shade holding her whispered as the tentacled male surfaced and began to swim towards them at a shockingly fast pace.
    “Give her t’me,” the legendary male husked out, his deep voice shaky as he held out his arms for the shaking, soaked female. Fear stood out in his filmy, blue eyes as he stared up at the soul with an apprehensive expression.
    “I think it best I hold her fer now. If one part o’ her touches that stuff, she’ll be dead afore yer crew is finished lowerin’ th’boat t’rescue ye,” the old male replied, his grip shifting as he made sure Flame was secure in his incorporeal arms. Then the two pirates locked eyes as they seemed to assess eachother, the mass of souls peacefully floating around them.
    “Ye would lay down yer life fer this woman? Would ye show th’same dedication t’yer duties?” the weary male sighed as a long boat was lowered to retrieve the pair.
    “I swear t’ye, I’ll find a way t’make up fer all my sins,” the lovecraftian captain replied, his eyes staying locked on the floating shade as he placed Flame into the longboat. His words held a double meaning, made obvious when his faded blue gaze slowly moved to fix on the obviously ailing female.
    “Aye, I reckon ye have a lo’ t’atone fer. Fer now, ye bes’ get t’work,” the slowly blinking soul whispered before disappearing into the ‘Dutchman’s’ hull. It was soon followed by an absolute flood, making the ship glow a faint, sickly green. Climbing into the boat and taking the already fading woman into his arms, Jones could only watch as she slowly slipped into unconsciousness. In her condition, maybe this was the kindest thing that could happen to her.
    Within moments, the boat was hauled up and Jones was striding to his cabin while his crew started to raise the sails; Flame dangling from his mismatched arms. His limp was more pronounced, his crab leg making walking while carrying something really difficult but he managed to make it to his cabin without tripping or dropping the delicate female. Placing her gently on the filthy sheets, Jones carefully pulled a blanket over her thin frame before grabbing a spare cane and tottering out the door. Everything within him screamed at him to stay by her side but he had a duty to fulfill, a duty he could no longer neglect if he wanted to help her.
    Making his way to the helm, the deformed male gripped the wheel; a strong wind starting as soon as his ‘hands’ met the warped wood. Soon the ship began to move at an unnatural speed, the ethereal air around them blurring into blues and purples as a light appeared in the distance. Focusing his zombie-like gaze, Jones merely kept the ‘Dutchman’ on a straight line as it sped towards the impossibly bright light. Yet, despite how bright it was, it didn’t hurt to look at. In fact, he felt an odd sense of comfort and belonging.
    Feeling at peace for the first time in centuries, the ferrier of the dead felt a smile curl his slimy lips as his ship came to a slow, gentle stop. As soon as the ‘Flying Dutchman’ halted, the souls poured out in a rush; more and more of the ancient vessel restoring itself as they left. While still black in color, the wood was gradually restored to new and the sails billowed with new life. Even the clothes themselves restored, becoming almost new once more. “Are ye, are ye forgivin’ me?” the ancient male asked the glowing light in a halting, emotion filled voice, his heart nearly stopping in his chest when his world filled with bright, white light.
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Loving the Heartless