The butcher's bill needed paying.

The terms had been set, and now it was time to haggle over price. What had they cost, one and all.

That blind trust.

That kiss.

That heart.

That moment of honor.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He lost his father. He lost his friend, yes damn his reluctance to admit it, all to Hell. Had he lost Elizabeth? He didn't know. She grieved, certainly, but did she love the pirate more than the blacksmith?

He trusted Jack, and Jack tossed him to Davy Jones without a thought. He trusted Norrington, and Norrington tossed that away to redeem himself. He trusted Elizabeth—and what? She didn't love him anymore? She loved Jack? It had been one kiss—you could not judge one love against one kiss.

Could you?

He hated Jack. He missed him. He wished the bastard was dead. He was going to get him back again. He loved Elizabeth. He wanted to hurt her. Good urges triumphed over bad, but the bad were still there.

Lurking.

He didn't know what to believe, anymore. Not even about himself.

-----------

A kiss was a promise. She always believed that. You promised your love, you promised your passion, you promised that there would be promises, in the future. A kiss was not an ending—it was a beginning. She kissed Will, on that parapet, because it was the start of them and not the end.

They were going to be together. They would have a life together. That, she promised.

She kissed Jack, and sent him off to his death. Kissed him, locked him to that mast, and then walked away. Was that kiss her promise to mourn him, and not her decision?

Or was her love that much of a death keel? Will, with a noose still waiting him, James brought down low, and Jack with the Pearl, at the bottom of the sea.

Her kiss was a promise. She just wasn't sure she liked what it promised, anymore.

-----------

The heart would give him back everything.

At least, that's what he told himself.

His position. His title. His honor.

Watching from the shore, as the krakken dragged the Black Pearl down, down into the water. Taking down the men that he had worked on the decks with, taking down Will Turner, who'd done nothing more than fall in love. Taking down Jack Sparrow, the only person who had never lied to him, even if he was a pirate. Taking down Elizabeth, which was a cross he wasn't sure he was ready to bear.

His honor seemed to be a rather sodden thing, all things considered.

Lord Cutler Beckett spoke of promotion—of the great things Norrington would do for the East India Company. He said nothing—but words sank into his brain, I'd care to think of it as my redemption.

He was starting to realize redemption might be farther off than he imagined.

-------

Well—that was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

Catch him wanting a taste of anything more than rum again.

At least he had his hat, but little else. He'd sacrificed it all.

All for the Pearl. All for the lives of his crew. All for the hope of being someone better than what he was.

And what had it led to? A krakken's belly and misty places.

He was going to have a long talk with a few people when they got here. About what it meant to really have some sort of 'moral center', about how friendship didn't measure to letting your sweetie feed your friend to a sea beastie, about not stealing out of jars of dirt that weren't yours to begin with, thankyouverymuch.

If there was a bill to be paid, he'd paid his share for once.

Now there was nothing left. The rum's all gone.

And so is Captain Jack Sparrow.

--------

What did it cost?

His faith.

Her self.

His soul.

His life.

The exchange rate is murder, in the Caribbean.