Tia strode over quickly, took the heart from Jack's hand, placed it back inside the chest, and shut the lid. "Aye, an' ye'd do well ta keep it dat way," she said shortly. "Ye be o' little use dead."

James observed the exchange silently, then finally spoke up. "I doubt my input is particularly welcome at the moment," he interrupted, "but I offer it nonetheless. Surely you realize that this is not yet over. Beckett has suffered a crippling blow, yes, but it is by no means fatal. He will compensate for the loss of the Dutchman by simply adding more ships to his armada, and find a new admiral to blindly carry out his orders. He may lie low for a time, but he will ineluctably reemerge, far stronger and all the more dangerous. The storm is not yet over; you are merely at the eye."

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Though he would have vehemently denied it if asked, Bootstrap felt his throat tightening and the backs of his eyes stinging at the sight of the two lovers entwined-- partly because he'd had the same thing and thrown it away, and partly because not even six months ago, he'd believed that he'd never even see his son again, much less witness the boy's wedding.

James, in the meantime, merely cast his gaze down toward the deck, allowing the two a moment of relative privacy while attempting to ignore the quiet voice that reminded him how that could have been his. The past was in the past now, and all that remained was the future, as tentative and uncertain as it seemed.

Roughly brushing something away from the corner of his eye, Bootstrap looked back to Jack. "I hate t' spoil th' moment," he said quietly, "but th' former-admiral's right. What're we t' do 'bout Beckett?"

"Notin', for de time bein'," Tia replied before Jack could speak. "Dere is a time soon fort'comin' when Beck-ett mus' be faced, but for now we mus' wait. De Dutchman has duties dat need t' be resumed. For myself, I t'ink I'll be stayin' wit' de Pearl for now. Tia knows when she be needed, hmm?"

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"He be boardin' de Pearl," Tia argued firmly.

Carefully extracting himself from Jack's grip, James shook his head. "I couldn't ask you to do that," he said, looking to the newly-wed couple. In truth, guilt was only half of his reasoning for declining- he wasn't sure he could bear seeing his beloved in the arms of another every day for the rest of his life. "Not after all I've-"

"Den ye wish to prematurely join de ranks o' de undead by signin' onto dis ship?"

"No, of course not, I-" James paused, then conceded the point with a slight shrug. Sighing in resignation, he looked back to the new captain of the Black Pearl. "I would not trouble you long," he insisted. "Only until I am able to find alternative means of supporting myself."

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James merely raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth's uncharacteristic cheer and slowly made to follow them across the gap. This was only temporary, he reminded himself as he allowed Tia to cross before him. True enough, the Navy no longer had a place for him. That much had become painfully clear almost the instant he had begun sailing under Lord Beckett's command. The law-upholding entity which had been his heart and soul -indeed, his very lifeblood- for as long as he could recall no longer existed. It had died, and with it a part of himself.

As his feet touched down on the wooden deck of the Black Pearl and he felt the salty breeze kiss his face, a sense of overwhelming rightness filled his soul. He had meant what he said to Captain Turner-- he would be staying with this ship only until he could find alternative means of supporting himself. The Navy was finished with him, yes, but the sea was not. Perhaps he could find a position onboard a merchant ship, or perhaps even eventually procure a ship of his own. Only time would tell, and for the moment, he was content not to worry. For the time being, however short that might prove to be, he was precisely where he belonged.
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Jack Sparrow stood silently at the helm of the Flying Dutchman, watching the Pearl slowly shrink into the distance. "Take care of 'er, mate," he murmured, briefly touching the tip of his tricorn in a final, solemn salute.

"'e will," Bootstrap said, causing Jack to look over at him in surprise. He'd almost forgotten the man was standing there. "'e's got a good head on 'is shoulders."

"Aye," Jack agreed with a short nod, his eyes returning to the horizon. "Now, 'is father, on the other 'and..."

"Is an utter idiot who doesn' ask or deserve your forgiveness," Bootstrap finished for him without hesitation. "An' will willin'ly accept any punishment 'is captain has deemed suiting."

Jack slowly appraised the man before him. "Well..." he drawled, fiddling with the beads on his beard contemplatively. "I've been thinkin', an' it's occured t' me that you already owe an eternity o' servitude on this ship, aye?"

Bootstrap nodded wordlessly.

"And," Jack continued, "despite bein' th' uncannily inventive devil that I am, I found myself rather hard-pressed to come up with a punishment worse than that."

Bootstrap opened his mouth to speak, but Jack wasn't finished.

"But finally, it came t' me," the shorter man said. "As I see it, I'm captain of this ship until kingdom come or other less fortunate circumstances find me dead an' thus unable t' do much of anythin'. But most o' my crewmen are on this ship for a century or two at most. So every time my first mate's time is up, I 'ave t' go an' find another suitable candidate to fill th' role for however much time 'e 'as left, an' so on and so forth."

"Th' point, Jack," Bootstrap finally said, unable to endure much more waiting.

"An' so," Jack concluded as if Bootstrap had never spoken, "I, Captain Jack Sparrow, hereby sentence you, William Turner, t' serve this ship in th' capacity of firs' mate for all of eternity or until otherwise indicated by myself....Savvy?"

Bootstrap looked to Jack in surprise, then slowly nodded. "Savvy," he repeated, grinning wryly.

"Good," Jack said shortly, turning back around to face the wheel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, this ship has been remiss in 'er duties for far too long. Inform th' crew that I expect t' have this deck cleared o' debris and this ship underway in no less than half an hour."

"Aye, cap'n!" Bootstrap replied, saluting sharply before hurrying off to repeat the orders.

Grasping the wheel of the Dutchman and slowly humming to himself, Jack looked one final time toward the retreating black speck on the horizon. "And really bad eggs..." he murmured. "Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!"

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