Davy Jones, Elizabeth Swann, and a story that's come full circle.
Davy Jones, Elizabeth Swann, and a story that has come full circle.
Not a soul remained on land or sea who could recall the days when Davy Jones had been a man. After a thousand years, not a sailor alive could think on him without trembling in fear, offering prayers against the Devil.
And for him, it was best this way. His story had no beginning, as it had no end. He was the omnipresent evil - he needed no reason to exist, as destruction itself had no reason, only caprice.
But he remembered, still - he remembered the silk of her hair, remembered the white slips of dresses she had favored, during plunder or battle or pleasure. He remembered the way she had left him, watching and waiting for her until she would see fit to blow onto his ship once more, and then leave again as quickly.
He remembered the way she had looked as she died, as she smiled carelessly, untamed to the last, and told him that she would never belong to him.
Davy Jones knew that his thrice-damned crew wondered about him - wondered why his heart was locked in a chest, why his breath hitched at the sight of a white slip of a dress on the waves.
They wondered why he had rescued that blonde-haired beauty, wondered why the Devil had given her life again, but made her swear no oath to him or to the ship. He didn't give a damn what they wondered.
He asked for her name - she spat in his face,almost smiling as he recoiled. He locked her in his cabin.
He only allowed himself to truly think on her as he stood by the mast, watching the sea - think on her burning eyes, her boyish clothes, her spitfire demeanor. He imagined how she would look in That Woman's slip of a white dress.
And he heard the music coming from his organ, beautifully, tragically enticing, as She had been, and the ocean still was. His breath came faster, and he turned towards his door, opening it quietly, hoping she would continue.
He watched her back as her fingers slid gracefully over the keys, coaxing out melodies rather than playing them. He watched her hair sweep her back, loved the way her breath came quickly in excitement - or was it grief, for a broken ship and a dead lover, for friends who had been claimed by the sea?
It was at this moment that he knew that he had lost to her.
When he found his cabin empty and the longboat gone several days later, it hardly surprised him. If she hadn't been fiery enough to leave, then he would have killed her.
When he felt, from miles away, her hands caressing his heart cruelly, and the cold steel plunge through him like ice, he felt no regret. This was his end, the fall of a legend, a full circle. His heart belonged to her, whether she knew it or not - a woman as capricious and untamable as the sea.
He wondered, as he watched up through leagues of water, if now he would have the courage to face Her again, in hell, and begin his story the right way, this time.
Author's Note: As to the meaning of the title, it has several proposed meanings and a couple of others that I thought up for the fic. Firstly, it's a nautical term, as 'devil' is a part on the front of the boat that needs frequent caulking, so some unlucky sailor would have to suspend himself over the side of the boat in order to do that job - thus, between the devil and the deep. However, another proposed meaning is like 'between a rock and a hard place.' Being that Davy Jones is often described as 'the devil' and the souls had to choose between him and the bottom of the ocean, I thought that was appropriate.
But for my purposes, Between the Devil and the Deep refers to the relationship between Davy and the woman who had been as 'untamable as the ocean', and therefore also between Jones and Elizabeth, who could be described in the same way. I don't claim to have any sort of knowledge of the third movie whatsoever, but it's my guess that they won't just let this go.
Criticism is my bread and butter.