The cry of a man lost in desperation and madness, surrounded by nothing but his guilt-ridden hallucinations echoed across the vast sandy flats of Davey Jones's Locker. A cold breeze gusted across the cracked white plains, swirling loose sand particles about a man dressed to the hilt in rusted, decaying brocade that sat crumpled and defeated. A strong gust plucked a wig that hung loose and dingy from his head, skittering it across the land behind him. He shivered, hugging himself as the man clinging by his fingertips to sanity that he was. Memories swirled about in his head as a maelstrom, chasing each other round and round about his fragile mind.
Elizabeth Swan as a twelve year old girl, strangely singing at the edge of a boat of pirates and black sheep...Elizabeth Swan grown into a fine woman that had caught his eye and his heart as no other...Elizabeth turning away to stand with another...Elizabeth dressed as a handsome young man, and yet all the more beautiful...Elizabeth returning his first and final kiss just before the blade had pierced his heart...
"Ah... poor James Norrington..." A woman's raspy, alto voice spoke from behind him, her heavy Jamaican accent halting her words here and there. "My dear Davey Jones kept one last victim for 'imself, I see."
James turned slowly, all his life having long left him. His blurred, blue eyes gazed dully upon a short, curved woman, her dark skin a sharp contrast to the white sand surrounding her. Her hair hung in dread locks accompanied by odd trinkets that continued to hang from her ragged tan bodice and skirts.
"Do you know 'oo I am?" she asked, her hands raising before her ample cleavage. In one long-nailed hand, she cradled a small crab which clicked and clittered quietly, in the other, a locket in the shape of a heart overlain by the veuge face of a hauntingly beautiful woman.
He did not know this woman, but clearly, she knew him, which came as no surprise. Little made sense any longer in these damned depths of the sea into which he had been dumped unceremoniously.
"No," he murmured, uncaring.
"I am she 'oo brought Barbossa back from 'de dead," she said slowly."I am she... 'oo stole 'de 'eart of Davey Jones...I am she 'oo vexes..."
"All men," James finished. She smiled a slow, smirking smile, her teeth edged with the blue paint that stained her lips. "You're Calypso."
"I am," she answered quietly in her thick accent. "An' I come to free you from Davey Jones...Locker." A fierce excitement rose up in James that had not felt in well of a decade, but he quelled it with what little was left of his military control.
"What must I give you in return?" He asked suspiciously.
"Will Turner's 'eart," Calypso answered, her face suddenly becoming cold and hard. "When 'e took 'da name of Captain, 'is 'eared should 'ave become mine. Instead, 'e gave it to ano'er. 'Da sea be mine, an' so 'da souls be mine, includin' 'da Captain of 'da Dutchman!" Calypso's voice rose in a great fury as she spoke, almost undecipherable in it's deepening accent as the ground about them trembled and shook in response to its God's anger.
"Turner is Captain of the Dutchman?" James' min reeled violently, and he fought to hold it in place, cradling his head in one hand.
"Aye," Calypso responded, her voice quieting as she calmed. "'E killed my love-a," she said, placing her hand holding the locket over her heart and drawing out the last word as a caress. "An' took 'is place aboard 'da ship of souls. I knew 'e 'ad a touch of destiny 'bout im, but ne'er did I tink 'e would captain 'da Dutchman. Davey Jones was lost to me...but 'im 'eart always be mine 'til William Turner pierced it an' gave 'way what 'e 'ad no right to give."
James' exhausted mind though for a minute moment on the twisted logic, but he figured a god's logic was not a man's. Still, he hesitated. Had fighting to find the heart of the Dutchman's Captain already put him in a terrible mess before?
"Elizabeth Swan...she 'as 'da 'eared of the Dutchman's Captain," Calypso whispered, her voice stroking his mind seductively.
"Elizabeth?" James' heart pounded furiously as he thought of the woman who had long ago stole his own heart. Yes, it would only make sense that William Turner would gift Elizabeth with his heart for safe keeping. If he could gift Calypso with turner's heart, surely Elizabeth's heart would be open for his own taking.
These frenzied thoughts, intermixed with his desperation for freedom from this wretched place caused his blood to boil, and with a sudden rising energy, he stood, mess though her was, and gazed at Calypso with a fierce determination and longing.
"Aye, she would be yours for 'da takin'," the goddess confirmed his thoughts. "But firs'...Turner's 'eart must be mine."
"Done," James answered firmly.
Calypso took one, then two steps, closing the space between them before laying a kiss over his heart. He felt his heart give a painful jolt, and he gasped, but as quickly as it came, it was gone, and a light blue print of Calypso's thick lips lay stained against his skin.
"Know 'dat if you fail me, your 'eart will be mine, fore'er."
Another cold wind swept across them, picking up sand as it did so, surrounding them with such thickness that James could not see his hand before him. He fought to breath as the sand clogged his airways for a full count of a moment, before the wind died down, and he found himself surrounded now by sand dunes tall as mountains, and the sound of...the sea.
In shock, James turned about and there before him, lapped the sea's water against the sand. Standing at the edge of the water beside a dingy was a tall, intimidating man with a scraggly beard and an obnoxiously large fedora.
"Barbossa," he breathed, taken aback.
'Aye, funny what one does to escape Davey Jones's Locker, eh?" Barbossa asked in his almost nasal tone voice. "I tire of getting lost to find this god forsaken place for that fish wife. Still, variety is the spice of life, as it were. Ne'er thought I'd be workin' with the likes of you, Norrington. Yet here we are, our punishments yet again disproportionate to our crimes. Seems to be my lot in life." James continued to stare at the pirate, unsure whether he was hallucinating once again, or if Barbossa really did preach that much all the time. Barbossa's eyes rolled dramatically, and he sighed loudly. "For gods sake man, I'm here, alive in the flesh. I be no hallucination what caused by this cursed locker. Now get in the damned boat so we can set sail!"