So… dead. Harry was dead.

Picked up by the mythical ship, whose captain was said to be ruthless. Terrible. No sailor in life, no pirate ever wanted to run into that ship. But it was said that she appeared in shipwrecks and carried off the dead. At least that was all Harry knew. Naming the Lost Revenge was forbidden on the Jolly Roger. Hook did not believe there was a ship more feared than his, in life or in death.

But if it was so terrible to be picked up by that ship, why did Gil look so happy? Why did Harry feel like he was at home? Why did he long to see her, her whose name he did not know?

Whose name he felt on the tip of his tongue and yet he could not pronounce.

Gil gave him a friendly blow on the back, and Harry realized that he was very strong because the blow hurt him.

"It's a lot to take in, I know. But you'll be fine. There is a party on the deck and dinner in the kitchen".

Harry took his hook tightly, glad to know that at least it had gone with him to the afterlife. Whatever that was.

"And when will I meet her?"

Gil laughed.

"Don't be impatient, Harry. It took most of us years to get to know her. To me, only a few weeks. She was intrigued. She is curious".

I know, Harry wanted to say, and he frowned. No. He couldn't know because he didn't know her. He had never been here. And yet it was natural. He tried not to care.

Gil was right. Up on the deck, a party was playing. Lively music, dancing, harsh and deep laughter. Well, this wasn't really bad for death, Harry thought. Perhaps he could find joy in the same light and soft pleasures that he had enjoyed before: drinking, mischief...

His stomach rumbled hungrily.

"To the kitchen first, then," Gil decided, and Harry agreed. He followed him into the ship's small kitchen, where a girl and a boy were sitting, happily drinking a pint of beer. "These are Desiree and Gonzo, part of the crew. Mates, this is Harry Hook".

"Ah!", the girl, Desiree, laughed, her voice dragging a bit. "Then he is the expected one. A pleasure, Hook. I hope you feel at home".

Gonzo laughed, raising his pint in a gesture of toast.

"To your health, Hook!"

Harry wanted to say he was dead, anyway, but there was something about the evil glint in the crewmembers' eyes that made him feel comfortable, happy even, because he recognized himself in them. He always believed that he would go to hell because of his impulsive and chaotic nature and because he was a pirate.

Gonzo and Desiree seemed too drunk to continue the conversation anyway, so Gil handed him a tray of fried fish and fried chips that Harry ate without manners, a little because he was hungry and a little because he was grateful of finally getting rid of his father's constant attempts to turn him into a mannered pirate.

The food was delicious, perfectly balanced between crisp and warm, and Harry was sorry it was over. He licked his fingers and jerked his head up.

"Why is there a party?" He asked Gil, who had served himself some boiled eggs on another tray.

Gil shrugged.

"For nothing in particular, it's like that every night. Relieve eternity, you know. And you never get tired of it." The boy gobbled another egg. "She hardly ever shows up at parties, but when she comes, they are better. Come on, I'll show you."

The deck was full of mist, the silver moon, wide and bright above them, ghostly... a whole crew celebrated on the deck, which was full of floating lights, like stars, and a couple of musicians were playing songs that Harry had heard on taverns. The sea was still the same, the sky too. Only Harry was no longer Harry. Or maybe he had just found himself. He didn't know.

"It's wonderful," he said honestly, because there was something about the ship that seemed more beautiful and attractive than anything in the world. In the distance, Harry saw a ship with white sails, probably mercantile, and wondered how they could be in the tangible world if they were nothing more than ghosts...

Then the air changed, blowing like a furious breeze, and all of Harry's senses were invaded by her. Brown eyes staring at him, all of her was turquoise braids, haughtiness, mischief, and her tobacco-colored skin wrapped in a sea dress... Harry knew her name in that instant, when he felt her inside his heart, running through his veins, as if she gave life to each of his heartbeats, as if she were the air in each of his breaths.

"You are her," Harry said, barely breathing. "Pirate Queen, Goddess of Shipwrecks, Sea Witch..."

She smirked, making Harry's heart stop. If he hadn't been dead, surely that smile would have killed him.

"Those are all my names, but you know which one of them I like the most", she advanced towards him, and Harry felt that something invisible wanted to tear a word from his tongue, a word that he did not know and at the same time he did.

"Uma," he breathed out, and his body relaxed. She ran her fingers through his hair and Harry thought he was being blessed. He didn't even realize when he had perched at her feet, kneeling, waiting for whatever it was she wanted to give him. Any heartbreak Harry might have felt was gone at her touch. Ghostly lights flashed on them, and the music continued to play, even though everyone on deck was spellbound by the captain.

"Will you dance with me, pirate?" Uma asked, though it sounded like an order. As if she was used to him doing what she asked. She stroked his chin, urging him up. Harry followed her.

Was this hell? He didn't believe it. He felt as if his existence had suddenly made sense, as if a lost piece of the universe had been suddenly found...

Uma allowed him to put his hand on her hip, and Harry leaned forward, instinctively, inhaling hard. It was her, the smell of the breeze, the smell of shrimp...

"I've known you before," he affirmed, looking into her eyes as they danced to the spectral music. "You were a breeze on the sea".

Uma laughed.

"I was eager to meet you," she admitted, unabashed. Her voice was strong and demanding, and Harry loved it. "But I couldn't touch you until now".

They danced in perfect synchronicity, as if they were not two beings who barely knew each other.

"Why?" Harry asked, and he wasn't sure what question he was actually asking.

"Because this is your place, Harry, next to me. It always has been. You lived a mortal life, but now you are in my domain. This is my ship and you, as a castaway, are mine. However, you can leave if you wish. You can choose."

And Harry saw in her brown eyes that she meant it honestly, but there was calm in her gaze and Harry realized that Uma knew what his choice would be.

He would stay. How would he be able to want to leave? He was enraptured by everything: by the moon, the waves, the foam, the night. He had never felt so weightless as when she touched him, even if imperceptibly. He knew that he wanted to give her his loyalty, his heart...

The fog. The Moon. The ghostly music. She was a breeze again, escaping from his fingers, slippery, mischievous.

Uma was inside his heart.