The calm quiet that's fallen over Isla Cruces is almost otherworldly. All the pirates are long gone, leaving just one man behind amongst the ghosts and the memories. He sits amongst the remains of the ruined chapel - staring up at the stars and listening to the soft rhythms of Davy Jones' heart beating shallowly in time with his own.
James closes his eyes, tries to remember the stories he's been told of Davy Jones. How did it go? He was once a great man and then he lost everything and the pain of losing was too great to be endured so he cut his heart clean away and cast it off and then had nothing more to lose. That's not quite right. It's close enough. James smiles to himself in the darkness.
He is almost lulled to sleep, and he's drowsily thinking of Davy Jones, of having and of losing and he can almost see all of the things he once had reflected in memory-silhouette: sunlight echoing sharply off of infinite brocade, the crisp white sails of his ship billowing against the blueness of endless skies, a fragment of a girl's smile (asking the question have you ever met a pirate I'd quite like to meet one someday), a dizzying pattern of the gold filigree-work on that damned beautiful sword, the curl of the lieutenant's lips (quite close to his own and breathlessly confessed words no please listen the truth of it is I love you) and the forbidden warmth of skin on skin and loving - and all of this, he thinks, has been lost.
But Davy Jones's heart still beats in time with his own.
James listens to the heartbeat and he wonders how sharp a sword you would need to cut out your own heart. He wonders how strong a box could be forged to keep it safe. He wonders if he's the only one who's ever felt sorry for Davy Jones. If he's the only one who's ever understood.
And then he can almost laughter, coming from a far-off place, and a voice like the sea whispering you would be worthy, son, you would be worthy.
Jones's crew marches through his dreams, and amongst them is Armand with an entire school of small orange and white fish swimming through the auburn waves of his hair. James reaches for him, but he's just as insubstantial as all the rest of the memories. He's wearing a small apologetic sort of smile as he slips away.
James wakes up and tucks the heart of Davy Jones away safe against his skin and walks down to the beach. He isn't surprised to see a ship in the distance because he's expecting the Flying Dutchman.
(Oddly enough, it's the East India Company that arrives.)