Once, touch was more than this. Fuller, whole, a thing to lose oneself in, to drown and die and live again. Now it's like a shadow, light and near forgotten on his skin, an echo of the truth it once could bring.

But still, it wakes the memory, hidden deep within his flesh. The memory of the man he was, the magic of the flesh, the truth that burned within his far-lost youth.

He finds it mirrored in the young one's eyes, a kernel there of hope and beauty not yet dimmed. It holds him captive and he woos it with soft words, finds tender charms to bind it to him, even though he knows its power will fade and fall away.

It is always thus. He smiles the sorrow past and raises his cup high, eyes on the youthful face that drew him in.

"Drink deep, Will," he purrs. "You never know which day is yours to wake up dead."

Jack guffaws at Will's startled look and drains his own glass. "A pirate's jest," he explains the truth away, and watches the light in Will's eyes.