Squinting from the sunlight coursing through his hair into the back of his neck, Jack spotted three silhouetted figures closer than the piercing daylight led one to believe. Arms at his side, he could hear only the shuffling of his, Elizabeth, and Barbossa's boots through the pale sand. He could see their faces now, solemn, their ringleader's icy blue eyes penetrating his own. Not one gust of wind prevented him from forcing a confident sneer at the sight of Davy Jones, the captain's legs so soaked and inhuman it seemed to Jack the buckets strapped onto him had always been there, gelled into him like what eventually happened to the cursed sailors aboard his ship. Five feet in front of the row of the three people who irritated him most for today, he glanced over at Will, unharmed and with purpose, just as he had expected.

"Ye be the cur who led these wolves to our door!" Barbossa growled at him. Obviously not everyone had expected to find Will unharmed and with purpose. Jack stood a little straighter.

"Don't blame Turner. He was merely the tool of your betrayal. If you wish to see its grand architect, look to your left."

Bugger. Didn't the man ever sweat?

It was too late for any explanation, Elizabeth and Barbossa shaking their heads at him. There might have been a few things he had forgotten to mention back at Shipwreck Cove.

"My hands are clean in this…figuratively."

"My actions were my own and to my own purpose. Jack had nothing to do with it."

"Well spoke! Listen to the tool." Maybe this meeting wouldn't end so badly after all. William knew enough to pick up on cues. Isla de Muerta had proven that.

"Will, I've been aboard the Dutchman," Elizabeth began, raising her eyebrows and leaning her head in like a mother does when warning a child. "I understand the burden you bear, but I fear that course is lost."

"No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it," Will said to her, but looked at Jack. He nodded in return. Do ye see what we're doing, love? Help us out now. If he could get on that ship…if he could find that heart.

"If Turner was not acting on your behalf, then how did he come to give me this?" Beckett produced the compass. "You made a deal with me, Jack, to deliver the pirates, and here they are. Don't be bashful. Step up. Claim your reward." With that, he tossed the compass to him in so swift a motion it was as if he had never moved. The words stung, and yes, he thought, there most definitely were things that a lovely kiss made one forget about mentioning, but it could still work. He could still be happy without her if he could just get aboard that bloody ship.

"Your debt to me is still to be satisfied!" Davy Jones hissed. "One hundred years in service aboard the Dutchman, as a start."

"That debt was paid, mate, with help."

"You escaped!"

"Technically…" he trailed off, begging, begging her to give the order, especially since he had nothing to go on after the word "technically."

"I propose an exchange."

Jack thought he couldn't love her anymore than he had at the Cove, but here she was, reading his thoughts and channeling in to his plan. Bless that brain underneath that pretty head. Maybe he would still somehow be able to give her and William each a ship.

"Will leaves with us, and you can take Jack."

It took energy not to smile.

"Done," Will said.

"Undone!"

"Done," Beckett concurred.

"Jack is one of the nine pirate lords! You have no right," Barbossa growled at her, only to be answered with a defiant smirk.

"King!" She turned back to him and watched him make his bow.

"Blaggard!" Barbossa's sword came flying at him, grazing his bandana as it clipped off his Piece of Eight only to be gathered by that ridiculous little monkey. Calypso. Bugger! With him gone, Barbossa would make the motion to free Calypso and it would be just like him to do so regardless of any King's commands. Too late now, he thought, bowing and trade places with Will. Maybe it was just him, but he thought he and Will took a little too much pleasure in sizing the other up. They exchanged one last look of understanding.

"Do ye fear death?" Davy Jones leaned into him, almost singing the words in a brogue that could chill over this desolate hot spot.

"Ye have no idea."

"Advise your brethren," Beckett said, taking a step towards Will, Elizabeth, and Barbossa. "You can fight and all of you will die, or you can not fight, in which case only most of you will die."

Elizabeth met his stare, her eyes burning into Beckett's, perhaps willing him to burst into flames on the spot. Jack knew that look. She could run him through with her cutlass in half a second and not change one muscle on her face. Her chest heaved, mastering the rage boiling inside her at the sight of Beckett, so smug and collected in the heat, with so many crimes on his head, one standing out to her in particular.

"You murdered my father."

"He chose his own fate."

"And you have chosen yours. We will fight and you will die." With that, she turned and marched back to the longboat, Barbossa and Will quickening their pace to keep up with her.

"So be it," Beckett murmured.

XXX

Not another jail cell, not on this ship, not at this moment! He could feel himself coming apart as he paced in jagged lines, not bothering to concentrate on his steps. The detaching feeling that had been with him since he had left the…no. No, it was behind him, never to be mentioned again. But then why did he feel like he was in three places at once? Must get out. Must get out. How had he gotten out before? Ha ha ha, to be escorted to your hanging. Turns out, that did actually happen. All right. Fine. The time before then. Ah yes. The eunuch, or whelp, as he had heard Barbossa refer to him, let him out with the promise of freedom…freedom being the Pearl.

"Think like the whelp. Think like the whelp. Think like the whelp." What was it he had done? It had looked like magic, cunning, sly Will. "Half barrel hinges." Half barrel hinges, he had said! Reaching for a large, splintery piece of wood, he pried the door, recalling every motion William had made then. It would be no different. At last, the door creaked open, and Jack felt the pieces of him return to him.

Running throughout the ship, he funneled out everything but what he wanted to see, the straight bold colors of the Navy's uniforms standing out from the dismal grays and greens of the Dutchman. Jones would pick his own minions to fight the battle, not insignificant, unchanged humans.

Ah, a smile crept up onto his face. Hadn't he seen these two before? He had outwitted them once and it was bloody certain he could so again…and again…and again until he tired of them.

"Hold it, or I'll shoot!" one of them said just as a cannonball burst through the cabin. He took it to mean the Pearl was doing well.

"Good one. I just came for me effects." His pistol felt like an old friend now, warming his heart a bit at the touch of it. "Admirable thought it may be, why are you here when you could be elsewhere?"

"Someone has to guard the chest," the other one with the beadier eyes said. Jack wasn't one to care for history being repeated, at least not this chapter, but he had to give a small chuckle. The same ploy working just as well. What was it they said about fooling me once or twice? Ah. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you. Yes, you two biddies, shame!

What he considered the most fantastical bit of plundering in the history of piracy, Jack reached up with both hands and cupped the chest, disappearing with it before he could even decipher what it was the two had begun to discuss. Running through his mind of all the secluded places he could go to in a battle-busied ship, he let his legs sprint where they might. Cocking his head, he could see the green, stormy sky with countless raindrops splicing it. Securing the chest under his arm, he headed for the horizon.

"Lookie here, boys!" he heard. The cold rain splattering onto his hands forced a shiver. "A lost bird. A lost bird that never learned to fly."

Oh, to be transfigured into that little sparrow now. Well, rope would have to suffice for the moment.

"To my great regret. But never too late to learn, eh?" His stomach lurching, he propelled himself into the sky, white streaks highlighting the massive black clouds looming over the ships. Slashing at his eyelashes, he still failed to see where the Pearl was. Steadying himself on the mast, she was much closer than he realized, a rope swing away from her familiar deck.

"That chest! Hand it over!"

"I can set you free, mate!"

"My freedom was forfeit long ago." With that, Jones struck his sword at him, instinct alone the reason it had not plowed through Jack. Parrying on top of the mast, his eyelids half-closed to shield his eyes from the rain, this couldn't last long. He had no cursed coin to use for a safety net this time.

The two swords clashed louder than the thunder. Fumbling his way through, Jack held his breath, one hand still holding the chest.

"You can do nothing without the key!" Jones taunted.

"I already have the key!"

"No, you don't." His tentacle spindled upward, revealing the key dangling from it.

"Oh, that key!" Chopping at the array of tentacles, he sent the one holding the key to the slippery deck below them. Before he could pinpoint where it landed, his other hand suddenly felt as if it were carrying a lighter load. The majority of his sword lay in Jones' claw, leaving Jack with only a jagged dagger-sized weapon. He thanked whoever it was up there that liked him for the ship lurching at that moment, causing the mast to jerk beneath his feet. As he fell, he caught the chest, the heart still beating inside it, oblivious to the change it was about to endure.

At the other end of the chest, Jones gave the chest a heave, sending Jack upwards to one of the beasts swinging on a rope. Giving the Pearl a second's inspection from above, he felt the slimy creature's hand.

"Oy! My pistol!" Butting it on the creature's head, he now had the rope to himself, swinging wildly to and fro, finally catching sight of Jones. Don't miss, he told his pistol, closing one eye and taking aim.

The blasted rain blocked his vision, the sharp cry of Jones reacting to the chest plummeting to the deck was the only indication he met his mark. Don't hang here gloating. Get down to the deck!

Through the rain, he finally saw William…and Bill. About to smile that finally someone cared to join him, the thought flew out of him at the sight of Bill, attacking his son like he was the plague, reefs of coral protruding from his back. Where is that bloody chest, he thought, unable to look any longer. It'll all be over soon, Bill. I bloody promise ye that.

Jones stood right in front of him, slashing away at the air inches from Jack's body. With nothing to fight back with, he ran past what would have been the wheel to summon the kraken, darting from side to side, knowing full well Jones could charge right through it, which he was doing. Bugger. He supposed they had spent too much time together. With an exhaustive heave, he spun the wheel, trapping Jones inside it, if only for a moment, and ran down the deck for the chest. Jones managed to squeeze in one last hit and sent Jack to the deck.

Slipping on the surface to lift himself up, he could hear the clatter of swords all around him. He had to be close. Where else could it be?

"Harridan!" he heard. "You'll see no mercy from me."

"That's why I brought this!" More clattering. He had to hurry now. You won't have to fight him for long, Lizzie. Give me one minute. It has to be down here. Passing William once more, he kept his eyes down at the deck, blocking out any cries of pain he heard, any shots fired, any waves crashing over the two crews.

There! Finally! About to laugh, he unlocked the chest, the scarlet, beating organ the only one not caring about the icy rain beating down on it. A broken sword is still a sword, he thought, wriggling the heart into his palm, his other hand gripping the jagged sword so that his knuckles trembled white. Turning around, he could see Elizabeth and Will's figures crouched down beneath the railing of the ship, Jones standing over them. The two exchanged a brief look of dread.

"Ah, tell me, William Turner, do you fear death?"

"Do you?" He barked it out, locking eyes with Davy Jones, captain of the Flying Dutchman. "Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of one's hand." Plead with me, Jones. Come towards me and leave those two alone. We'll settle this, and you know exactly how will be settled, too.

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow!" He savored the agony of the cry, wallowing in its fear.

"Cruel is a matter of perspective."

"Is it now?"

Spinning back around, Jones drew back his arm and plunged his sword straight into William's chest, twisting the blade as it went.