She rolled beneath him. His Pearl. Steady as she went, slipping between the shoals like a whore's hand 'tween yer buttons. His feisty lady, her canvas stretching proud up into the mists, her keel splitting the waves like the Sea Herself were bowing before 'er. Everything he could want, that. Right here. Beneath his hand and his feet.

Except somethin' weren't right. Something in the pitch of her, something in the way she rolled. Too light. Too light across the waves. Even fully emptied, she'd never ridden so light. And the sea, too. The sea ... was no sea he'd ever sailed, and he'd sailed all the seas known to man, and a few more as weren't. Then there was the quiet ...

"Where are we, Pearl?" he whispered, to his empty ship. "Where've they all buggered off to?"

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I rather think they've 'buggered off' to their own afterlives. Just a theory, of course."

Jack whipped around with a yelp, staring at the figure standing firm and straight in the mists at the stern railings. Figure straight out of 'is nightmares, it was. Like a ghost, wreathed in fog. Dressed in them same Naval blues, that sword resting easy at 'is side, that proud and haggard face, them stern, haunted green eyes ... Not the uniform he'd died in, as far as Jack knew. Not the pretty tails Beckett'd dressed him in to die. The old uniform. From the first days. The best days. When it were only them, chasing around the Carribees.

"Bugaboo!" he accused, pointing a shaking finger at the apparition. "Bugaboo!"

The ghost raised a supercilious eyebrow, mouth twisting into a little smirk, and something in Jack's chest clenched, hot and hard and hurtful. "Usually people go with 'Norrington'," the ghost smiled. "Or James, if we're feeling particularly informal. Not that you've ever felt anything else, I suspect. But then again, since it is you, and you've never been content with the usual, I suppose 'bugaboo' will do for now."

"Dead," Jack clarified, though his own lips were twitchin' a bit. "You're dead, mate! You've been dead for years!"

Ghost Norrington tilted his head, lips pursed thoughtfully. "Yes," he murmured. "I suppose I have. It gets hard to tell exactly how long it's been, of course, but ... I suppose I have." A sad smile, and then that eyebrow again. "Why? Is it a problem?"

Jack blinked. Opened his mouth. Shut it again. Thought for a second, then asked cautiously. "If ye've decided to haunt me, mate, ye left it an awful long while t'start ...?"

The ghost blinked a little in his turn. Then smiled, slow and dangerous, the smile of a man who knows somethin' you don't an' is going to enjoy filling you in. "Jack, Jack." Shaking his head, amused and faintly exasperated. "I'm not haunting you, Jack. Well. Save in the sense that we have always haunted each other, even when both of us were alive and well ..."

Jack frowned, stalking forwards a little, watching those green eyes follow his every move. Watching the warm amusement in them. More warm than the eyes of any ghost Jack had ever seen, too. Not that that meant much ...

"If you ain't hauntin' me, then why're you here?" he growled. Feeling slightly possessive. Man hadn't even asked permission to come aboard, after all. That were just bad manners. But Ghost Norrington only twitched his lips, that damnable bloody smirk, and kept mum. Waiting for Jack to figure it out, whatever it was. Which Jack ... was too bloody annoyed to bother to do, really. And bugger it anyway, he was entitled to ask questions on his own bloody ship! "Jamie lad.Tell yer old mate, will ye? Why're ye here?"

"You really do have the patience of a two year old, don't you?" the ghost commented, that smooth British drawl doin' its usual job of distractin' Jack so much it took him a second to recognise the insult. And by then the man had moved on, smug and almost ... gentle? "Jack. It's really not that complicated. I can't haunt you. For a haunting to take place ... at least one of the people involved must still be alive." A pause, a gentle smile. "I'm afraid neither of us qualify, Jack. Not anymore."

Jack stared at him. Norrington stared back, calm and steady, completely confident, completely sure. Not that you'd ever see it even if the man weren't sure, but Jack had always known when the man was makin' it up as he went, and when he were statin' solid fact. Looking at his old enemy's face, he could see this was one of them latter times. But that ... that couldn't be. That couldn't be. That weren't bloody fair, he'd just got his Pearl back again, he'd been just on his way ... Just on his way to the Fountain. Just nearly there. And sure, there'd been that little bit of a storm, just off the Florida coast, but his Pearl had weathered worse'n that ...

Except. Except. She weren't riding right. An' his crew was gone, and the seas were wrong. And his Pearl weren't riding right ...

Norrington smiled at him. Sadly, and indulgently, and very gently. "Jack," he said softly, pulling Jack's attention back to him, that smooth voice wrapping almost comfortingly around him in the mists. "It's not that bad, you know. Not the Locker. Not this time." A wry smile, and a little depreciating gesture around him. "Not exactly Florida either, of course, but ... not that bad. You have your Pearl, still. And your freedom. And the sea beneath you. And that's ... all you've ever wanted, isn't it?"

So sad, that question. So belatedly understanding. So ... wistful. Jack blinked at him, at the ghost standing silent and alone in the mists, staring down at the ship beneath his feet, and the past behind it. At a man who, as long as Jack had known him, had been chained. Norrington hadn't known it at the time. Hadn't seen it until Beckett had shoved it in his face, had brought him to his knees with it, but that didn't make it any less true. Norrington had never known freedom. And even in death ... what was he doing? Standing in the mist, waiting for a pirate? Tryin' to follow old duties, even now?

That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. An' if this was the afterlife, if this was Jack's afterlife ... then it worked on his rules, right? It was his ship, after all. His Pearl, his rules. Only ones as counted. Only ones as ever had.

"An' you," he said, moving closer, moving until he was standing toe to toe with the spirit, moving until he could feel the strange warmth that eddied around the man, the faint flush of something still living, of something still passionate, still hopeful, still alive. Even in death. Perhaps only in death. Life hadn't been all that kind to Jamie, after all. Maybe death would be kinder.

The man blinked at him, startled, inches away, and there was that pride again, that lovely pride, that meant even here and now the man wouldn't back away from him. Wouldn't back down from any and all challenges Jack might happen to offer. Just like the good old days.

"And me what?" Norrington—James—asked, brow wrinkling in confusion. And suspicion. Bright and sharp and deadly as the sword at his side, an' beautiful. Beautiful as always. Jack always had loved the fighting spark in those sea-green eyes. Definitely liked it better than the pained sadness of a second ago, or the bitter amusement of the last time Jack had seen him. No. They were better like this. Narrowed and fiery and challenging. So much better.

"I have you too," Jack pointed out. "The Pearl, my freedom, the sea ... and you." He tilted his head, letting his teeth gleam. "Or were you planning just to be the welcome committee? Because I gotta tell ye, mate ... that probably ain't gonna work out too well for ye ..."

James stiffened, spine straightening, shoulders coming back, eyes flashing in sudden challenge. Beautiful. Beautiful. "And what," the man bit out, cold as the mist, "do you mean by that, Mister Sparrow?"

Jack swayed forward a little, and caught himself. Forced himself back. Not yet. Not yet. Have to do this right ... "Jes' what you said, is all," he murmured, looking up into them green eyes, looking up into the wary confusion there. "This is the afterlife, right? Everything I've ever wanted, or something? And, well ... Here you are, ain't ye? Everythin' I ever wanted ..."

James frowned. Not afraid, as such, but ... bewildered. Confused. "I didn't mean ... I don't think it means ..." A pause, a little wrinkle. "You believe that? That I'm here because you wanted me to be?" And it was odd, wasn't it, and sad, how strangely hopeful that question came out. Wistful as the Pearl beneath a navy man's feet.

"Could be," Jack smiled, gentle now himself. "Could be, mate. Or, the other side of it ... It's your afterlife too, ain't it? Could be you're here ... because you want to be."

James frowned at him, shaking his head a little, looking down at the ship and the sea around him almost unwillingly. Almost afraid. "No," he whispered, but only softly. "No. Why would I ... What could I possibly want with this? With you?"

And Jack smiled at him, gently, and reached out to take that stiff, defiant chin and carefully guide it back around, carefully guide those pained green eyes back to him. Lingering a little over that first touch. Delighting in it, delighting that he could touch.

"Freedom," he said quietly. "Freedom, and a ship beneath yer feet, and the sea beneath the ship. No Navy to tell ye where to go or what to do, no rules to tell ye who to hunt or who to spare. No laws to box yer heart in an' tell it that it can't want what it knows it wants." A sad smile. "Because yer a smart man, Jamie. You always were. And you knew, didn't you? First time you saw the Pearl. You knew freedom when you saw it. An' ye been waitin' after it ever since."

James shook his head, chin still trapped in Jack's grasp, warm and real beneath Jack's fingers, but it lacked force, lacked will, and the yearning in this man, this spirit, was so strong that Jack could almost touch it, almost taste it. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. This man ... if an afterlife had to have everything he wanted, everything he truly wanted ... then this man fit right in. This man, beside his Pearl, and Jack would be forever satisfied.

"I do want ye," he whispered, leaning close. Close enough to nibble that quivering jaw, if he wanted, close enough to taste the longing on those lips, but he didn't want. Not just yet. Not until James wanted it too. "Always did, Jamie. Even trapped in yer navy rules. Just for the challenge of ye. Just for how proud you looked. But now ..." He smiled, soft and close, reaching out to press a hand to a warm chest, and a heart that beat stronger than a navy coat could cover. "Come with me, James," he whispered at last. "Come be free with me. An' it'll be the right Heaven for the both of us. I promise ye. Come with me."

James shuddered, reaching up to grip Jack's arms in hands like steel, hands that shook, and leaned close. Curved his proud head down along Jack's neck, rested his forehead on Jack's shoulder as he close his eyes. "I don't ..." he rasped. "I don't know that I ..."

"Want it?" Jack asked gently. "Deserve it? Could bear it?"

James laughed thickly, tears in his throat. "All of that. Any of that. I've been waiting ... a long time, Jack. I've gotten used to waiting. I don't ... I don't know how ..."

"I'll show ye," Jack promised, wriggling his arms free, reaching up, pulling the man properly close. Wrapping around him in the mists at life's end. "Yer a quick learner, Jamie, ye always were, ye'll pick it up in no time. Promise ye. Freedom's easy that way. If ye've the heart for it." A small smile, almost rueful, except Jack made a point never to rue anything. "And ye have. Ye have the heart for it. Always bloody did, and ye went and locked it up yer whole bloody life, and if ye'd have given me half a chance, half a chance ... I'd've stolen it long since, love. Never could bear seeing somethin' like that locked up ..."

James pulled back at that, pulled back enough to look at Jack, and there ... oh, there was challenge back in them eyes, and amusement, and that look of a man who knows somethin' you don't know ... A look that made Jack want, made him hunger, made him yearn. A bright, proud look on a bright, proud man, and Jack did love that. He always loved that. "Jack," James said, smooth and amused. "Jack. You did steal it, you idiot. Why do you think I'm here?"

And Jack blinked at that, and thought about it, and grinned. "Oh. Well. That's that all sorted then, isn't it?" A smirk, and his best infectious hopeful grin. "In that case ... what say you and I go below deck for a little bit? Only it's a bit drafty up here ..."

James laughed, pulling old confidence over new fear like a navy coat, and leaned in to bite at Jack's grin, and smile a hunter's smile. "Lead on," he whispered, low and dangerous as the Depths. "I'll follow. I'm very ... good ... at following."

His Pearl rode high on endless waves, and stretched her timbers to his laugh and the chase of their feet, and all in all, Jack could get to liking this afterlife thing.

He could get to liking it a lot.