Disclaimer: The characters in this story don't belong to me. Some dialogue is also taken straight from POTC3 and some of the other movies, and I don't claim it to be my work.

To the readers: This story gives away the ending of Secret Window

"Gentlemen...I wash my hands of this foolishness." Were Jack Sparrow's last word's to his crew of inner-selves, which he never knew he had. Yet nothing like this came as a surprise to him anymore, he was beginning to assume it was all natural.

He grabbed hold a rope, and swung himself to the ground. As he landed, he was thrown off, for the first time, in his days of madness, by the sound of music. Singing to be more precise. He swung around, his hand instinctively touching his sword, preparing himself for the unexpected.

He saw no one. He looked up into the blinding light for a moment to discover for the first time, that there was no one on the Pearl, and never had been. He could still hear the singing. It did not fade, nor grow louder, but it was definitely close by. Not far from the ship. He slowly moved towards the bow, taking large, cautious steps.

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit
and it goes by the name of London."

As he moved around the ship, a dark figure became apparent among the dark shadow cast by the Pearl. A crouching, singing figure, who sat, cross-legged against the arch. The figure continued to sing, in a hoarse, angry tone, and then, a softer, more discreet one.

"I have sailed the world and seen its wonders,
for the cruelty of men is as wonderous as Peru
but there's no place like London!"

Once Jack was close enough, he made his presence known to the stranger, who's face he still could not see. The figure's head was still bent, toying with a small object in it's hands. Jack tilted the blade of his sword toward's the man.

"Sorry to tell you, mate." he said. "This ship isn't going to London anytime soon."

A pair of dark, sunken eyes turned up at him, and in an instant, the figure emerged from the dark, exclaiming, "YOU, SIR! How about a shave!?"

Jack saw the gleam of the object in his hand first, and then the face of the figure, which was pale with dark, scowling eyes and teeth bared in sheer insanity. The next thing he felt, was chill of the small blade at his throat. The stranger had tackled him to the ground, knocking his own weapon beyond his reach.

"You look far overdue, sir!" a voice growled into his ear. "A good close shave is just what you need! I'll not charge a penny, I garuntee timley service!"

"Get off!" Jack began to scream, before an arm pressed into his throat, cutting off his ability to speak.

"'old still now, if you don't want me to nick you! It'll hurt much worse, if I do!"

Jack managed to free an arm from beneath the stranger's body and reach down to his belt. He felt his pistol, and pulled it out. He fired a shot at the attacker.

BANG!

The man released him, to protect himself. Smoke spewed from the barrel. Jack quickly rose. He'd missed, but startled his attacker enough to throw him off guard. The man lay, cowering. His head of wild black hair, with a single streak of white, was buried in his arms.

Jack touched a hand to his own throat. He could still feel the cold blade. His body still trembled with fear.

"That was almost real.." he whispered to himself. "But it wasn't. And neither is he..whoever he is." He wandered away from the man a few feet.

"I'm having nightmares, in the middle of the BLOODY DAY!" he screamed to the sky. "AND I'M WIDE AWAKE!! AND BY GOD, ALL OF THE RUM IS GONE!" He turned to the cowering man, who was now staring up at him, saying nothing. "And you! Why are you still here? Who are you supposed to be, anyways?"

The man rose to his feet. Jack stumbled back, pointing his pistol at him.

The stranger raised one hand, in trues, and closed his blade.

"Rather pitiful weapon of choice, wouldn't you say?" Jack commented, lowering his own weapon.

The man's eyes, which seemed to never lose their darkness, stared at the blade in his hand. "These?" he said. He raised the blade high above his head, staring with a strange grin, as he began to sing.

"These are my friends.
See how they glisten.
See this one shine...
How he smiles in the light.

My frieeennnnnds."

"Enough! With that dreadful noise!" Jack snapped. "What do you think this is, a church? Look around you, mate. This is the closest to hell we'll ever be, thanks to you and your singing! Stop that or people with think we're...unic, or something."

The man drew his shaving blade close to him, and tilted his head, curiously. "We?"

"Yes, we. You're just another very distorted, very sleep deprived version of myself, are you not?"

The man gave a devilish half smirk towards his blade.

"And you're just a filthy unshaven version of myself, right? No, my good sir. You're clearly mistaken. You and I are two very different people."

He slipped his blade into a small pouch on his belt, and started towards Jack, who raised his pistol in defense, and stepped back. He stopped when the man scoffed at his timidness.

Easy old Jack. He thought, as he swallowed his fear. This bloke isn't really all that scary, is he? You've met worse. Besides, he isn't even real.

"You're a pirate, yes?" The man asked.

"Now, What makes you say that?"

"Vermin," he muttered, ignoring Jack's sarcasm. "...morals not worth what a pig could spit.."

Jack gave a slight bow of his head, to what he considered a compliment. The man stared at him under his darkened brow. It was that stare. That blasted stare that made his blood run colder than the slimed, waterlogged compartments of his own ship. Colder than if her were dead. This man was unnatural. Real or not, he was not among this world.

"You sail the sea," the man continues, his eyes unmoving. "Destroying, hurting, taking what isn't yours, and for what purpose? Because you think yourself a rebel? You're nothing more than a coward, sir. Not man enough to live among the world, so you take to the sea. You don't deserve to live. None of us derserve to live.."

"You've got it all wrong, mate." Jack answered. "Forget what you've read in your storybooks. I've seen things far more frightening than yourself. Things you can't even imagine. And I've survived it all, unharmed. It's called drinking rum, while driving a ship in a thunderstorm. And it's much more dangerous than you think, Mister.."

"Todd." the man said. "Sweeney Todd. And yourself?"

"If you want aboard my ship, you'll address me as Captain, and nothing else."