An Accounting of Souls

Summary: He has never feared death, but now he is taught to embrace it.

Disclaimer: PoTC does not belong to me.


Dying wasn't so bad, he had to admit.

It was merely surprising. Sharp, and unexpected was the pain in his chest, and yet he handled it admirably well. Besides the slight widening of his eyes, and the urge to clutch at his scarred chest he gave no sign of feeling the broken end of the sword pierce his heart.

Part of him had marveled, had reveled in the sensation. He hadn't truly felt in centuries, and even pain was something to savor, to clutch on to with the vigor of a starving man. Feeling was something sacred; gifted to the living and coveted by the damned.

He was neither.

Yet, as promises old and new crashed down around him, and the roaring swell of the ocean raced up to greet him, he whispered her name, "Calypso."

Then the sea reclaimed him. The salty current dragged him down to the depths that he had visited so many times before and always took for granted. The breath was chocked from his failing lungs, and he could feel the four currents swirling around him - thrashing him with a temptress's fury, holding him with the tenderness of a lover as he was dragged further and further away from the surface.

Yet, the pain didn't last long. There was a foreign pulling on his chest, an inexplicable pressure, and then there was the sound of a heart beating. A sound that had haunting him for so long a time. Confusion entered his glazed eyes as he plunged towards the bottom of the sea. Then, amazingly, the storm tossed waters parted, an alcove and haven from the crushing weight of the water formed, and with awe struck eyes he watched as the water ran off of his body and the breathe once again filled his lungs. Underneath his searching hands his chest began to rise and fall.

He had no idea how long he stood there, on that mock shore of some magic's creating. Then the scenery around him lightened. The water above gave of an eerie, other worldly glow, and the air hummed with a new electricity as around him the power of a goddess sparkled and sizzled.

He knew who she was before she spoke. "Davy Jones." Her cool voice intoned. The forgotten sound washed around his scaly skin, and he shut his eyes against the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. "Do you fear death?"

He opened his eyes upon hearing that question, one he had asked a thousand times before. He sighed then, long and burdened. "Not anymore." He answered, and knew he spoke the truth. The moments after Will Turner had stabbed his heart had been the most peaceful in his long life. The dark abyss held no fear from him, only a quiet longing.

She laughed softly then. The sound was light and tinkling, like the wash of the sea surf over a pebbled shore. The restored heart inside of his monstrous shell skipped a beat, and he cursed the onslaught of emotion. He had been able to get by on pain and anger these last few centuries. But this longing, this wishing for times past . . .

It was unacceptable.

"Not anymore?" She asked, her voice thoughtful and mischievous, as carefree as he remembered it to be. Unable to resist anymore he turned around to greet the sea goddess that was the bane and light of his existence.

She looked . . . different. Gone was the witch doctor with blackened lips and coal dark eyes. The human body that had imprisoned her was gleefully discarded, and now the elemental goddess stood in the human guise that he had first learned to love her in. All those years ago on the shores of Scotland.

She was short for a human woman, barely coming up to his shoulder. Yet, she was long limbed, seemingly as fragile as coral yet harboring the strength of a hurricane. Her eyes were a bewitching sea green, as dark as the deepest depths of the ocean and as cool as the early morning mist. Her dress and cloak were a dark gray-blue, sand stained, and torn by the salty wind. The same wind threw back her mass of ebony hair, and it rippled like waves around her in an ethereal cloud. Smiling softly, she raised a deeply tanned hand to push the rogue locks behind her ear. Her eyes were dark and piercing as she took him in, and both were silent, as if unsure of what to say.

"You have changed," She remarked then. Her eyes slid off of him and turned away to gaze at the artificial horizon.

"You have not."

She gave no sign that the words stung, instead she sighed. "Will Turner." She said, wasting no time on preamble. They knew each other too well for that. "Why did you try to end his life?" Her voice was strained, as if she was puzzling over a riddle, and unsure how to come to a conclusion.

He considered lying to her, her really, truly did. Yet, she had that uncanny way of being able to see straight through him. Why did he go after Will, and not Jack? Jack had held his heart at the time, that would have been the logical thing to do. Perhaps he knew that Jack wouldn't stab his heart, the wyly pirate was too wild to be chained down to one ship for eternity, and so he had nothing to fear. Perhaps it was jealousy, simple blind jealousy. His newly restored heart fell heavy in his chest, and he crushed the uprising of guilt.

Instead he answered, "We were at war, as you already know, Calypso. Will Turner and I were on opposite sides."

Her eyes flashed as she was reminded of the war just recently waged on her waters. "That doesn't explain enough. War is war, I understand that, Davy. Yet he was not an imminent threat. If you would have struck at anyone it would have been Jack."

He glared at her then, unheeding of the powers he felt spike in warning. It was thanks to her that he was still living, in more ways than one. "It matters not, why." He said, "What's done is done, and the Dutchman now has a new captain." In a moment of honor he added, "I believe he will do a fine job."

She nodded, a slightly pleased smile pulled at the edges of her stained lips, "He takes the job grudgingly," She admitted, "He will leave behind a wife of hours and an unborn son." That hurt, he didn't know why. "I intend to strike a bargain with him. After ten years, if he and she are faithful to each other I will release him from his debt. If not he is mine for eternity."

He snorted then, "A woman's faithfulness is a fickle thing. I hope young Turner is prepared for eternity."

She glared, "Like you are one to speak of betrayal." There was pain bleached through her voice, and he refused to shrink upon hearing it. It was only a matter of time before she found out, anyway. "You have no idea what I went through, Davy Jones!" The accent he remembered in her sealed form resurfaced, and wrapped around his name, beautiful even in her fury. Around him the waters began to come to life again. Crackling and surfacing in defense of it's mistress.

She had never look more beautiful.

"You have no idea what I went through." She repeated. "A bearer of good will to a misfit 'pirate court' who were sickingly outmatched by civilized sailors. They dared to seal me, thinking that would save them. They, seal me! The arrogance of mortals to think that they can control the waters by treachery – your treachery!" Her voice dropped, low and accusing.

"Someone had in formed them of the incantation that would bind my powers." Her voice was bitter, and laced with emotion – raw and open like she was with him only. "After hours of struggling they finally confined me to a small orb of energy, then the pirate king spoke. Who will give their body? He asked, and no woman came forward. In the end they ended up slitting the throat of some poor Haitian serving girl, my new body. It took nine men to seal me." She laughed bitterly, lost in memory. "They even took the time to 'accustom me' to my new form. In her body I bore the scars still."

"Stop." He commanded then, unable to take anymore. "I don't want to hear about it anymore. I can't."

"Why, Davy?" She asked icily, "Does it hurt you?"

He met her eyes squarely. "No."

She nodded, disbelieving.

"Bound to one form," she continued. "Unable to become one with the sea, cut off from everything. Davy, I was just so alone. You have no idea how horrible that was, you -"

"-we're limited?" He interrupted her, and had the satisfaction to see the goddess flush as she recognized her slip of tounge. "You're right, Calypso, I have no idea how that feels." It was surprisingly easy to let the scorn settle into his voice, and she seemed scandalized that he would dare raise his voice to her. "Don't talk to me about being bound, Calypso. For ten years I ferried the souls for you, and I did so gladly – the job was peaceful and fulfilling, and let me sail the sea constantly. Then, one the only day I asked for you, you don't show up." He held up a tentacled hand to stop her protest. "I understand – the sea is vast, and many things could have happened. Yet, ten more years passed, again I waited, and you didn't show. Five times this happened, fifty mortal years, and you couldn't find a day for me?" He only wanted to know, needed to know, "Why?"

She didn't answer at first, and she almost seemed nervous, if he was any less attuned to her moods. "Things came up," she said, "Unchanging and untamable, remember?"

He shook his head, tired of her riddles, "untamable or not, one day every ten years is not so much to ask! Especially after you begged me to ferry the souls in the first place!"

She simmered, "It was not such a burden for you, so do not even pretend it was. You're better than that. You were thrilled to sail the seas for eternity – for you were a special type of sailor. That's why I chose you in the first place. Yet, now you have changed, the souls no longer find their way. The gates of Tarsus are clogged and burdened – you gave up your duties, turned your back on our bargain!"

"There is no bargain when one side fails to uphold it's end!"

Her eyes flashed, "You had honor once, I hate to think that your visage is more than skin deep." Her gaze was pointed, taking in the long tentacles that framed his face, and the clawed hands and leg.

He flinched then, wishing to hide himself from her gaze. He hadn't always been this way. He had been a legitimate sailor once – the son of a respected trader and a governor's daughter. He had been human in appearance, human in soul.

Then he had met her. She had been a stole-away, a painfully thin girl with tattered clothes, and one solid right hook. He had been unable to raise his hand against her – as was his right, entranced as he was by the fury that swam in her intelligent eyes. He had resolved to let the authorities handle her the next port they made, yet he never got around to turning her in.

She had grown on him at an alarming rate. He wasn't sure why, but at the time she had reminded his of the sea, an ironic thing there. Incredibly graceful and unattainable. Tranquil and calm one moment, furious and tempest-tossed the next.

Then there was the way the sunrise would mirror in her eyes . . .

He was head over heels in love, and enjoying every minute of it.

Then she gifted him with her story, her purpose in seeking him out. For years she had been searching for a helper, someone to ferry the souls on to the next world. She had choosen him. He loved the sea, and rarely felt the need for land, so when she offered he had jumped at the chance to sail forever – to be with her forever. For one day every ten years was longer than any mortal lifetime.

The only thing he had to give her was his heart, and she already had it.

Now, here he was, all these years latter. Bitter, coarse, inhuman. He looked up, and saw the weight of the ocean pushing down against Calypso's magic. He sighed, wondering why she just didn't let go. He was ready, he really was. "Why are you here, Calypso?" He asked, suddenly very tired, "The battle is over, and I was ready to die. Why didn't you let me?"

The fire that had been burning in her eyes banked, and she sighed, "We're both wronged each other." She said, her voice carefully void of any emotion. "In so many different ways, yet, I'd like . . . " Her voice tapered off, as if she was unsure how to word her request.

"You'd like what?" He asked, suddenly curious.

She looked up at him before walking forward. He felt her hand on his reptilian skin, and he could feel himself change. As her hand passed over his skin he could feel human flesh and coarse hair replace the long tentacles that had adorned his face for years. Foreign tears pricked at his eyes, and she smiled then, noticing the gray that peppered his short beard. Another pass, and those receded as well until he stood before her as she remembered him. Human, whole, hers.

"I'm sorry," She said then, truly meaning it, much to her surprise. "I never meant for this to happen this way."

"What did you envision?' He asked, this time the bitterness didn't surface in his voice.

"Not this." She smiled wanly, "Not even a goddess is perfect," she admitted with a sigh, then looked up at him, her large eyes unsure. "I'd like another chance, though. If you'll have me?"

He was very curious now, as old wounds melted away, and an odd feeling bloomed, and he hesitated to call it happiness. "What would you propose?"

She smiled then, coy and mischievous like he remembered, "Well, in ten years the Flying Dutchman will need a captain again, and until then I have to retake my duties – I'll be grateful for some company."

He smiled then, a real, genuine smile. "Well, seeing as how I don't have any prior arrangements . . ."

Her eyes twinkled as she looped her arm through his and approached the edges of her sphere. She stretched out her hand, and marveled as the magic tingled at her touch, once again open to her power then the glow encompassed them, opening up a portal to the realm beyond.

Next to her, Davy Jones smiled, once again a free man. Did he fear death? Not now, not when death was just a window to eternity.

Without looking back the couple walked hand in hand to forever.

Fin


There you go, I twisted some things, and filled in the rest of the blanks with my stories. Anyway, my contribution to the Davy/Calypso pairing. We need more!

Anyway, read and review!

MJ