"James Norrington."

My voice booms across the open sea. A single white spirit swims straight to the Dutchman and floats alongside the stern.

"Sir?"

The word was forced, I could tell. His voice sounded watery and far away, like an underwater echo.

Norrington stood before me as he did when he was Commodore, save for the wig. With his fit figure (emphasized by the tightness of the uniform) and his brown hair (full and slightly waving due to an unfelt breeze) he looked extremely young. It occurs to me with a pang of guilt that this man couldn't have been older than 35 when he died.

"Do you wish to leave the Abyss and serve in my crew? You are not bound to this ship like you would have been in Davy Jones' reign. What say you, Commodore?"

He thought for a moment, and I don't blame him. Spending eternity under my orders would probably be the worst form of hell to him. Not to mention, it was my father what stabbed him in the first place, and it's my father who is first mate of this ship.

"I will serve, Captain Turner."

____________________________________________________

One of the little known duties of being ferrier of souls is to keep track of them. Jones had a special book which updates itself with the names of recently deceased people. It is up to I to decide their ultimate fate. In order to do that, I must check the book every chance I get. I sometimes carry it with me; it is not a large book.

Today I was surprised to see the name of a friend.

This friend had committed suicide, the worst crime a person could commit. Committing suicide also meant that said person could not return from the Abyss like Norrington did. I would have to catch him before he disappeared for good. I immediately ordered the crew to turn around and return to World's End.

"Jack Sparrow."

He did not materialize at first, causing me to think I was too late. But a ripple in the water soon appeared and started to head towards me.

And Jack, eccentric as ever, stood in front of me again.

A mix of pain and sadness radiated through my body. My good friend, one who has saved my life so many times, dead!

"Jack, what happened?"

He looked at me sadly and did not answer. I noticed his face looked grim and haunted. When he bowed his head again, I noticed h is right temple looked black; that was obviously where he shot himself. I couldn't help but wonder what could've pushed him over the edge. I also wondered why, out of all the forms he could have chosen, he kept this one.

"Jack, join my crew. You'll be a sailor for eternity; isn't that what you wanted? Jack, if you don't say yes, you can't come back from the Abyss."

At that he looked up, and what looked like fear shone through his eyes. It didn't matter that he had committed suicide, Jack had always been afraid of death. It was his fatal flaw.

But Jack apparently thought otherwise as he tried to hide his fear. "What's the point, if I'm not Captain?"

"Look, Jack, when I'm ready to die, you can take my place. Agreed?"

Jack looked at me with some of the swagger that was slowly returning to his translucent self. "And how long will that be? Surely you don't want to be young when Elizabeth is old?..."

"Jack. Get in the boat."

He stepped onto the deck and became solid again.

"Jack, you can choose any shape you want after you die. After Elizabeth lives a long and happy life, and dies a natural, peaceful death, then I'll be ready. Speaking of which, why did you choose this form? You look absolutely terrible."

He looks surprised. "Choose? You mean I don't have to look like this?"

"Yes. Just…think about how you want to look. You can look like anything you've ever looked like on Earth."

And suddenly Jack was transformed. He was cleaner, healthier, and he had his hat.

"Mr. Sparrow."

"Aye, Captain?"

"I'll have someone show you to your berth. Mr. Norrington!"

Norrington jumped from the rigging and thumped onto the deck next to me. "Aye, Captain Turner?"

I send them off and settle into my cabin. Another little known perk to being Captain of the Flying Dutchman is that if I close my eyes and concentrate, I can see exactly what a crew member is doing at that given time. So I concentrate on Norrington.

"Fancy meeting you here." Norrington keeps his calm demeanor, but stares at Jack from the corner of his eye.

"I could say the same to you. Have you not noticed that you're on a pirate ship, Commodore? Since when do you consider yourself a pirate?"

"I don't. But this is better than the Abyss. Trust me."

Jack scoffs at Norrington's naïveté. "Oh, I know, mate. The Locker, remember?"

Norrington gives Jack a confused look.

He was still in the Royal Navy when we rescued you, Jack, I wanted to say.

"This is your bunk." Norrington points to a hammock in front of him.

"Where's yours?" Jack looks about the small room. Norrington points to a hammock on the far side of the room. Jack walks over to the one next to it and throws whoever's stuff that was originally on it onto the floor. He then dumps his own belongings onto the hammock, thereby claiming it his own. Norrington sighs, but doesn't say anything.

Jack pauses, looking at his belongings. Without looking up, he says "You're wondering why I did it."

It was a statement.

"Not just me." Norrington replies.

"Well, son, then you had better sit down. It's a long story."