Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, and I never, ever should have read Melville in high school.

AN: For Flygon Pirate and Luthlaya.

I am David.

And the scarlet sins of my past have come back to haunt me.

My son, my son! Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!

I stand chilled and cold yet triumphant in my folly. And here on the deck of the Flying Dutchman a terrible Nathanial stands now before me. I tell him cruelty is a matter of perspective…and with a sword like a parable he shows me the truth.

The boy gasps, cringes in agony the sword snicks again twisting in his living heart she is screaming pleading shouting his name rain beats down cold sweat upon his paling skin-

I blink. The boy. Stricken. Dying. There is horror, horror growing in my heart of hearts, for his killer turns to me mockingly, a smile on his waxen features carved in delight and triumph as I stand uncertain before him. Behold, oh King, he cries, you are the man.

And I am wretched. For he is dying for the blackness of my sins, a sacrifice slain upon the altar of my pride and vengeance...and as my sin, that dying face will be forever before me…

Dark eyes flitting open, lips gasping for cold breath that will not come a pitiful apology he clings to life, to her, rain like tears ebbing away pulsing blood freckles now dark in his ghastly face-

Stricken. Dying. For those who live by the sword will surely die upon it, that blade forged skillfully now thrust carelessly through his heaving breast. Around us Calypso vents her fury salty breakers crashing rain pouring down hot blood gushing Jones gnashes his teeth I stagger drunkenly as the whimpering girl falls to her knees before him and begs him never to leave. Lghtning flashes again and the tendrils of Jones' craven smile broaden as he laughs to mock their pain. A dreadful bond, he sneers, one that is weak, so easily severed-

She is shrieking his pain his silent screams that sword piercing their hearts as one she keens and cries small hands shaking him blood pouring slick down his chest, her hands, dark head lolling-

My fault. The heart of her tormentor lies warm and quivering in my outstretched palm while that of her lover grows cold and still. Cruel, he called me. And yes, I am. For there was a rich man and a poor man who had but one lamb which he loved as a daughter, and it would lie sleeping against his bosom he would feed her from his hand…and even now, even now she is bleating, bleating piteously over his dying body lost and shepherdless and utterly alone-

No more. For that girl now is weeping, weeping against my chest, screaming and trembling as I wrest her forcibly away that dark knife in his lifeless hand, now gashing deep within the hollow of his breast as pity, pity moves my hand and heart of stone while mercy screams to slay her, slay her where she stands-

The lock clicks the deed is done he lies stricken, dead, tears like crystal beads on dark lashes blood ebbing, ebbing in webs of shocking scarlet pale flesh anguished face lost in the shrinking sea-

Jones' laughter dies. Calypso rages on and the swirling maelstrom swallows the ship beneath us, she lies cringing against my chest clutching me tighter and we ruse higher, higher as her love, her life, her loss sinks beneath the sundered seas below...

Her face is pale, I hold her close and the rain washes away all traces of his salty blood, no evidences left that her love has died, none left now that he had ever lived but her tears and sobs which will quell with time-

Time. Ten years, one day. And I tell the weeping girl it will be worth it as her dark eyes despair and she looks for solace and comfort in the stilling waters below. Ten years. One day. She is pale and trembling in my arms as they haul us aboard the Pearl, and she stands listless at the rail, loth to see that ship rise from its watery grave, yet trembling lest it should not-

And with crashing breakers it leaps from the sea, hull golden and clean majestic in the sudden sunlight white sails billowed and full he stands at the helm as though living and whole her lips part eyes streaming she reaches to touch him once more-

But the Sea ever-changing and relentless lies like eternity between them. Parted in life, parted in death. Ten years. One day. Ten years, One day. My heart cuts that rhythm deep in my breast. Yet he smiles at her across the expanse, dark eyes adoring, and Absalom absolves me of my sins…

…and yet.

Yet resignation lends maturity to those squinting eyes, for he knows, as I do, that for now she is golden and young as the shining sunrise vibrant with youth and light…but she will fade. Fade. Perhaps six days she will spend with him as her life sets slowly and she perishes in the twilight like a dying sun slipping suddenly beneath the sea. For time, time changes all things-

…all but this.

I know now love is a bond but not weak, for it cannot be severed, and he is both blind and a fool who thinks other than thus. For many waters cannot quench it, nor fires burn it, nor can time herself quell its passion. Love stands, unwavering, ever-stronger when even the ageless sea is spent and shores and tides are sundered and the dying stars are plunged at last in darkness. And I know, now, it is enough for him, for them, that they should spend six days in a lifetime of loneliness together. But I did not keep her alive for this: To live. To Die. Alone.

He must not, will not lose Lizzie. And as she rows to him I promise her silently she will neither fade, nor die, nor spend her long life alone-

For there is a way. Must be a way.

From my memory a voice now speaks, mocking and cruel, yet void of its potency: Jack Sparrow, do you fear death?

And now, too late, I have my answer: Yes. And no. For I have found a treasure of immeasurable worth, a Pearl of Great Price, a love, a life, worth dying for. And now, O Death, you have no sting. You hold no more fear for me...

-but she, she is dying slowly every second, slipping by him in the streams of time even now as he leads her ashore she is sinking while he remains still-

I have but one thought, and one alone: She will not if there truly be a Tree of Life, A Philosopher's Stone, a Fountain of Youth… while she yet breathes I will seek it, ever seek it 'til Death may take me or come World's Ending.

The sun is setting as they reach that shore, and he both kisses and caresses her, and she consumes him with blushing innocence and jealous fury. I turn my face to the sea-swept sunlight, hand again on the smooth polished helm of the Pearl, that compass' arc still holding steadfast and strong towards that distant, glowing horizon-

A flick of my wrist and that compass closes. I smile, and with an impish whisper bid yonder lovers farewell: Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho.