Title: I'll Take My Chances

Author: Hildwyn

Rating: T (for religion, and because it's based off a PG-13 movie)

Summary: Why would one refuse Davy Jones' offer to avoid death? What motivation lies behind the brave words, of one who died for that which he believed in. Set during DMC.

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC, there are lines taken verbatim from DMC, and those are not under my possession either. However, my offer still stands, I will accept any characters from PotC, should Disney ever grow tired of them.

Notes: Despite the fact that I hate DMC, my inner RPer forced me to write this. One man, out of...how many? Were there six, one who openly declined Davy Jones' offer. These are the little character moments that make me want to RP and write.

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I'll Take My Chances

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"Do you not fear death?"

"I'll take my chances, sir."

A great playwright once said that "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."

Faced with death I suppose we all find our ways to cope. When given the choice of such extremes our natural courage fails us all, we face the dark, unforgiving choice with but two motivations--that which we know we must choose, and that which our trembling, fearful mortality begs us to take.

I draw my strength, my courage from God, but it seems not enough to cover my obvious terror. My rosary, clasped in my trembling hands betrays my nervousness.

We face it all in our own ways.

And I--this player on this sinking, water-logged stage, can make no call to be the main player, the lead in this comedy or sad tragedy, nor am I sure that I have ever helped to forward the plot much. I am simply one of the nameless men caught up in something far greater than I know, standing next to giants.

For that I suppose, I should be glad and honored. Despite the fact that it now seems that my scene draws to a close, God has granted me one chance to see the strange, weird, and truly unusual--a mythological devil, and the chance to help sway others from a compact nearly equal to that of Faust's.

It is my path, and I follow it gratefully, knowing that He has granted me the strength to follow it even when trembling weakly with fear. It is almost fitting, now that I have proved my devotion, I should find my end here.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

Everyone grows and changes from who they once were--like the audience watching the play, they see characters grow and change, sometimes ending a far different person than they were, and eventually, like that poor tragic character we realize our follies of our misspent youths. We wonder how the world could be so different then, when in truth it was not the world that has changed, but ourselves and our perceptions of it.

Puff. Puff.

"Do you fear death?"

There was a time when the answer was most certainly yes. There was a time when the answer was a confident no. But when we face our last lines, prepare for our final bow before we take our leave of the stage, you become aware, that no matter how many times you rehearse your lines, that that fear will always be there. Perhaps it is no longer fear of that certainty itself, it may simply be of all that is uncertain about that final end.

What young child doesn't fear the loss of those close to them, when such a fact is certain and imminent in the future. They don't know what death is, they fear the loss. They fear the uncertainty of facing another day without their sibling, their parents, their best friend, their first love. The parting is sad, but not so sad as when it has already passed.

"Do you fear that dark abyss?"

At one time, I did. But no longer is that abyss so eternally dark, so daunting, so unforgivable. He is there to help me overcome it. How can it be dark, abysmal, cruel, when we know that finally, at long last, we have the opportunity to see again those we lost long ago?

"All your deeds laid bare? All your sins punished?"

Judgment. I would lie if I said I would feel no trepidation before facing that, for none truly know, but I know that who I am right now, not who I was ten years ago, or five--that I should never do something contrary to that which is good and right, and if I can reach that point, there will be forgiveness for past transgressions, shouldn't there be?

"I can offer you...an escape."

No...what kind of escape is that? Trade our souls just to stall judgment? We cannot make this deal, not with this devil. To accept is give in to fear, and doubt, to not trust that He is there to guide us. To protect us.

"Don't listen to him!"

Do not listen, do give heed to those words. He promises are empty, look at him and his crew--what manner of good, merciful beings should look like that? That is not the path that God wants for us. Is that not plain?

"Do you not fear death?"

A quick breath, a calming breath. My hands have stopped shaking, finally. I feel a confidence that I have rarely ever felt. The strength which helps me to meet this horrid nightmarish face, is not my own. The words sound like my own, but this time, they betray not my fear or disquiet...

"I'll take my chances, sir."

Over and over again this scene--undoubtably my last one before I bow and retire from the audience's view, replays in my head. For me this scene is the greatest in significance, for others I doubt so.

If the events I am involved in now were to be committed to a grand novel, or spread as a series in some gazette, I should barely merit a thought of the audience save for that required to process the words. My last words.

Were this to be recorded later in some great history I should only be in the footnote--one of the many who died.

In this play, this show, my character should have no name, and no lasting influence. Forgotten by all.

But this is how things must be. I accept that and have faith that my choice is the right one. I have chosen, and I will take my chances.

"To the depths."

Those words seal my fate. But the depths is not where I shall reside, my soul shall fly free.

After exiting to stage right.