Will loved sailing. He assembled a crew out of men too stubborn to die, those who hoped to be granted a pardon in death for their crimes in life, or those who were determined to do a little more living before they got on with death. Will indulged them. He collected souls that sank and floated. Sometimes he would trawl about the ocean floor like a carriage over a road, ferrying ghosts out of shipwrecks and to their long-awaited eternal reward.
He saw Elizabeth occasionally. Collecting one of her crew, who had died of illness or cutlass. The funerals were, in the grand pirate tradition, more like parties than wakes, with rum consumed and pistols fired in excess. In the captain's quarters, either his or hers, they would have their own celebration. She would tell him of her life and he would tell her of his death. Her lips ran over the stubble of his chin and her fingers dawdled over the scar on his chest, and they were happy.
Ten years was a long time.
He made it clear that he didn't mind her seeking the company of another man. His duties took him far away from her in unpredictable, lengthy intervals. She never said anything, but on one of their meetings she undressed a little slower than usual. "Jack," he said, and she nodded.
Will was alright with it. Nothing else about their relationship was normal, why should monogamy be any different? When the tenth year came, she spent the day with him and only him. That was all that mattered.
Ten years. A long time. He came to know the sea well. Better than he ever could've before. He could predict its moods and ebbs, sense a storm before the clouds darkened, feel a breeze hours before it caressed his face. And in turn, the sea came to learn him well. The woman he had known as Tia Dalma was pleased with his work. She came to him wearing the form of Elizabeth while he was sailing the waters on the far side of the world. She laid astride him and atop him and beside him. When he rested his head between her breasts, he could hear her heartbeat like the tide rolling in, the blood in her veins like seawater.
Once, he caught a glimpse of her true form. Her lips like coral, her hair like seaweed, her eyes maelstroms. He wasn't startled. She laughed and kissed him and became Tia Dalma again.
And on the tenth year he went to Elizabeth and they left Calypso and Jack to their seas.