Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and everything associated with it belongs to Disney. I'm merely borrowing their toys. However, they may not get some of them back :)

A/N: I've been meaning to post this ever since I saw AWE, and possibly a bit before. It killed me that they had no closure to the Davy Jones/Calypso story, so I decided to give them a chance at a happy ending (and, I suppose symbolically, they did, but I digress).

Anyway, I have at least five chapters planned, with the second one already written out (a first for me). There might be more, depending on how verbose I'm feeling. The chapters' focuses will alternate; this one will focus on Davy Jones, the next on Calypso, etc.


The sea, which had been so tranquil only hours before, had transformed into a violent, churning mass. Topped by frothing waves, the ocean writhed, a stinging rain lashing down from the heavens.

In the center of it all was a whirling maelstrom, eagerly waiting to engulf whatever fell into its watery maw.

Davy Jones alone knew the cause of the violent deluge: Calypso. The furious onslaught was the product of her fury, directed not only towards those who'd had released her, but also towards her betrayor.

After ten long years at sea, painstakingly doing every duty assigned to him, he had returned; determined to spend his one day ashore with his love, he had done everything she had required of him and more, eagerly awaiting that day when they could once again meet.

He had dedicated ten years of his life to ferrying the souls of the dead, every day dreaming of the day where he could be reunited with his love; but, when the time came for the lovers to meet, she wasn't there.

In his fury, amidst his heart-wrenching sorrow, he had carved out his still-beating heart and locked it away, in hope that he would never suffer that kind of torment again.

He would no longer be victim to the anguish that accompanied love.

And, in retaliation for her desertion, to prevent her from ever wounding him like that again, he had informed the pirate lords what needed to be done so that she would be locked away; the pirates, not Calypso, would rule the sea.

No longer would she be free to take whatever form she wished.

No longer would she be a part of the sea, the sea that was a part of her as much as she was of it.

Calypso would be, unless released, forever confined in a mortal body, cut off from the sea that she loved; living forever, yet dying every day.

However, keeping his heart shut away did nothing to help Davy Jones. He had realized that he was still host to that great ache that accompanies love. Jones turned cruel out of his resentment, betrayal, and heartbreak.

He became a monster.

Even knowing that she had betrayed him, he could not bring himself to stop loving Calypso, no matter how hard he tried.

Even with his heart locked away, he was still plagued with the feelings he tried to escape; his love for Calypso, and his anguish--piercing deeper than the sharpest knife--which followed her betrayel.

He hated her, hated her more than anything for condemning him to this fate, yet he loved her nevertheless.

She was dangerous, that was certain. She was the one person in this god-forsaken world who could make him feel human, even when he so obviously was not. She reminded him of who he once was, who they both had been.

And now, she was free.

When the first drops of rain began to fall, he had looked to the sky, knowing that she had summoned the storm in her fury. Lightning danced across the sky, and he roared, feeling her pain and loss.

She knew he had betrayed her.

And yet, he also knew that she had forgiven him. It might not be evident, even to herself, but he knew that she would.

It was in her nature.

He almost smiled, which was quite at odds with the turn his fate had taken.

Having fought long and hard for the heart that was never his to begin with, Davy Jones now found himself at the mercy of the one man he thought never to see again; Jack Sparrow. That dammed bastard had the gall to stand in front of him, smirking, Jones' heart in one hand, his broken sword in the other.

Looking at him, Jones could tell that Sparrow would stab the heart. He could see it in his eyes.

Davy Jones knew he was going to die, but that didn't mean he would accept it. He saw the boy, Turner's son, lying on the ground, shooting worried glances at his own love.

Anger welled up within him.

Why should they have love when he could not?

He was going to die, that much was for certain, but he wouldn't be the only one.

William Turner gasped as the sharp steel of Jones' sword--a sword he himself had made--pierced his heart, pinning him to the deck of the Dutchman.

The look on Elizabeth's face, and Sparrow's as well, was well worth the price he was going to pay for that deed.

Cruel was indeed a matter of perspective.

With a roar, Bootstrap launched himself towards Jones, intent on somehow harming the man who had killed his beloved son.

Momentarily forgetting the perilous position of his heart, Jones grappled with Bootstrap, forcing him to the edge of the ship. One last shove, and finally the Dutchman would be rid of that traitorous wretch.

Davy Jones moved to do just that-

and froze, an alien pain seeping through him.

Someone had stabbed his heart.

Inside him, something laughed. Who was he to fear death? For almost all of his existence, he had been the bearer of death to sailors around the world. Why would it bother him now to be in the same position himself?

He was weary of the world, and everything in it. Why should he not just give in, let himself be slain?

The answer, of course, was Calypso.

He had gone to visit her in the brig of the Black Pearl, perhaps even planning to kill her. She had looked up at him, and the look of delight, the longing in her gaze, had touched something in his mutilated heart.

All of the feelings he had kept locked away, all the emotions he had kept compressed for all of those years, had been brought back to the surface. He felt his love, as strong as it had ever been, the heartbreak from the betrayal, both his and hers, his confusion, fear, agony, compassion, empathy, guilt.

The list went on.

For the first time in many years, David Michael Jones felt like the man he used to be. A small doubt had begun to form at the back of his mind.

Did Calypso, perhaps, still love him? It certainly seemed that way. She had pledged herself to him, promising her heart, her love.

In the long run, though, it really didn't matter. He was still about to die.

His heart had always been hers, and she knew it.

"Calypso," he breathed, feeling the life flee from his body.

I love you.

On the deck of the Flying Dutchman, the heart of Davy Jones stopped beating, and his lifeless body plummeted into the waiting arms of the sea.

And that was just chapter one!

Reviews are always welcome, and constructive criticism is appreciated; I always have room for improvement.