FicWad

"Oh, fuck!" Ian cursed loudly. "I really need to get that." He looked down the stairs to the door and then back at me. I continued writhing and screaming, wondering what he was going to do with me now. Looking a bit panicky, Ian stuffed a large piece of cloth into my mouth and hissed, "Quiet, bitch! I can't have them hearing you now, can I?"

Ian still had that knife positioned between my legs. I really wished he would remove it. Blood continued pouring down my body as Ian thought aloud, "I really do need to do something with you. I could hide you, but I don't know of a good hiding spot. Perhaps it would be better just to get rid of you, hm?" Get rid of me? That didn't sound too good. I wondered what he meant.

There wasn't much time for me to wonder about that. Ian looked down at the knife and slammed it up my slit. Time seemed to slow down and my breath was taken away completely. There wasn't even any air in my lungs left to scream. As the world blurred and contorted before my eyes, I felt Ian grab me roughly and bring me to the window.

I could tell what he was going to do even before he did it. Ian leaned as far as he could out the window and tossed me to the crashing waves below. My fall from the ground seemed to last so much longer than the actual few seconds it took me to go from Ian's bedroom to the ground. When I hit the wet sand below, I felt as if everything inside me was going to explode into a thousand pieces.

I was forgetting to breathe. It was hard to stay conscious, think, or feel. As I lay stunned, a large wave suddenly came rising above me. I stared at the large wave blankly, not doing anything about it. To be honest, even if I could have, I wouldn't have moved. I had cheated my funeral for too long. Now, I was going to embrace it with open arms. It really was time to move on.

The large wave came crashing down on me. Water filled my lungs and washed over every part of my body. I could see the water around me turning crimson as the blood gushed out. Not wanting to die with a knife stuck up inside me, I used the last of my energy to grab the knife and yank it out of me. As soon as it was in my hand, my grip on it went limp and it crashed to the ocean floor.

The waves crashing above me stopped moving. Black light was coming down from the heavens and was cutting through the water. It engulfed me completely. I didn't fight. There was no fight left in me. Knowing that I was dying this time, I shut my eyes and greeted death without complaint. Its icy finger sealed around me, I took my last breath, and then felt no more.

Hours later, I found myself lying on something hard. My face was all pressed up against it and my body ached. Blinking, I forced my eyes open and looked around. I was lying on some crusty-looking wooden floorboards. They were quite disgusting. Staggering to my feet, I found I couldn't stand and ended up on the floor again. On the opposite side of the room was a bed.

Needing to get to that bed, I leaned heavily against the wall and tried to figure out how to get to it. When I came up with no ideas, I sank to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest, wondering where I was and what was happening to me. I really was suppose to be dead. But this wasn't what death was like...or was it? I wasn't quite sure, but I figured I would find out soon enough.

Two minutes later, I found out that I was right. The door to the cabin I was sitting inside opened and a tall figure stepped inside. Glad to have any sort of company at all, I immediately asked, "Where are we? What is this place? Am I dead?" The tall man chuckled and slammed the door shut behind him. Was this his room? I hoped I wasn't invading.

The man dragged his feet across the room and sat down on the bed. It was hard to get a good look at him from all the way across the room, but I could tell he had green eyes, dark brown hair, and pale skin. In one hand, he held a rum bottle that he was gulping from. In an emotionless tone, he slurred, "Why, we're on the Flying Dutchman. What other ship is covered in filth?"

The Flying Dutchman? That was Davy Jones' ship. Oh wait, it wasn't Davy's ship anymore. Davy had lost control of the ship before the final battle in which the Endeavor and dear Cutler had sank. So who was the captain now? Very curious about this, I asked, "Who's the captain of this ship? And how exactly did I get on here? I don't remember seeing a ship."

The man rolled his eyes and replied, "Let me guess, you died at sea, didn't you?" After thinking about it, I realized he was right. I had died at sea because Ian had thrown me out of the window and into the waves below. I nodded without waiting for my reply, the man said, "We're going to the afterlife on this ship. Davy Jones' Locker no longer exists, so we are just transported to the afterlife."

"Wait, what's the Locker?" I asked curiously, not remember hearing that term before. The man took another long swig of rum and rolled his eyes at me, "If you don't know, I'm not going to sit here and tell fantasy stories to you since it no longer exists. All you need to know is that you're being transported to the afterlife and I have no long that takes."

I thought about this for a few minutes and realized that this was some sort of in between lives journey. I was on my way to death, but wasn't quite there yet. That still didn't answer my question about who was the current captain of the ship though. I knew the man I was talking to was drunk and irritable, but I had so many questions that I still needed answers to. What to do?

"Who's captain of the ship now?" I tried again. Rolling his eyes again, the man did answer my question this time, "William Turner, that lowly blacksmith. Don't ask me how he became captain of the Flying Dutchman. All I know is that I was transported from the Locker to the ship after Jones died and Turner replaced him as captain. So no more questions if you please."

At the mention of Will Turner, my eyes widened. So Will must now be captain of the Dutchman. But what about Elizabeth? Poor Lizzy was left somewhere onshore while Will had to ferry souls to the afterlife. After thinking this through for a moment, I suddenly realized there was something quite familiar about the man sitting across the room from me.

"Do I know you?" I asked the man, squinting towards him, trying to make out all his features. The man merely laughed in reply as he took another swig of rum and replied, "Highly unlikely." Suddenly, comprehension fell into place and I knew the man. I got to my feet despite my lack of energy from earlier and forced myself over to him. When I made it to the bed, I threw my arms around him.

The man looked taken off guard completely. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around my back to keep me from falling. Very excited to see him, I squeezed him extra tightly and then pulled back just to stare excitedly into those green eyes as I exclaimed, "James Norrington! I never thought I would see you again! God, I've missed you so much."

"Miss Cook?" James asked in surprise and disbelief, "I never thought I'd see you again! What happened to you? How did you die?" He looked a bit puzzled as he contemplated the means of my death. I remembered that I had never told him about Ian's abuse. Sighing, I replied, "Ian Mercer. You remember him, don't you? You know, Lord Beckett's assistant?"

After thinking for a moment, James nodded, but still looked a little confused as he asked, "Yes, I remember him. Did he murder you?" Shrugging and not caring to go into details, I nodded and replied, "That's one way to put it. But never mind that now. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that you and I are together again, right?"

A grin slowly spread across James' face and he nodded, "That's true, I didn't think about it that way. And you're right; that is all that matters although I am grieved to say that it will only be temporary." Temporary? But why? Oh right, because of the fact that we were being transported to the afterlife. We certainly weren't going to stay on the Dutchman for forever.

"How long is temporary?" I asked curiously. I wanted to know exactly how long we had together. Sighing, James thought hard and finally gave up, replying, "To be honest, I don't know. I might've asked Turner about that at some point, but I don't remember what he said. I suppose we could ask Captain Turner once more. It's not like he has anything important to do."

I could hear the sneer in James' voice as he said Captain Turner. He obviously didn't think Will was fit to be captain. Deciding that probably wasn't a good subject for the moment, I yawned and looked down at myself. I was wearing a simple white dress. Raising an eyebrow, I looked at James as I asked, "How did I get into this? I don't remember putting it on."

James smirked as he looked at the dress, "If you're naked when you die, you're automatically dressed in white clothing. I know this is none of my business, but why exactly were you naked when you died?" Unsure of how to word this exactly, I explained, "You knew that Ian Mercer was my husband, right?" I did think I had told James this at one point or another.

James thought and then looked sorry, "You probably told me that at some point or another, but I have forgotten. I'm sorry. You see, the Flying Dutchman does strange things to you. It makes you forget until there's nothing left of your past life at all when you die. You're empty and stripped of thought and emotion. But anyways, continue. You were married to Mr. Mercer?"

I listened to James in horror. I hated the idea of being empty and stripped of thought. Shuddering, I looked up at James and said, "Wait, so we're going to end up losing our minds in here? We'll go crazy and lose our souls?" Biting his lip, James nodded slowly and said, "I suppose that's one way to put it. But it's not that bad, Jenna. And besides, it takes a while."

Deciding we could think about that more later, I went on and explained about my marriage, "It was forced. You know, my marriage. I hated Ian and he knew that. He used that to his advantage and abused me in all possible ways. We never had sex. It was always rape. Him always forcing himself on an unwilling me. So to humiliate me more, he stripped me before killing me."

"I'm so sorry!" James burst out. "That sounds so awful. If I could, I would kill Mr. Mercer right here and now. Lord Beckett hired him for a reason." I looked at James blankly, unsure what his point was. Noticing my expression, James went on to explain, "We all knew Mr. Mercer did Lord Beckett's dirty work. It was all on purpose and for a reason."

Shrugging, I went silent, not about to insult Cutler. James suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled it forward. On that hand, I was still wearing the ring he had given me when I had accepted his hand in marriage. Grinning widely, James tossed the rum bottle on the ground and exclaimed, "Look! You still have the ring I gave you." His eyes sparkled excitedly.

At the moment, I was actually wearing two rings: the one Cutler had given me and the one that James had given me. Still though, there wasn't exactly any reason for me to be telling James that. So instead, I merely nodded and tried to return his smile. James was so thrilled that I was still wearing his ring that he tilted my chin up and gave me a passionate kiss.