Jack Sparrow ran his open palm over the lower area of the mast, savoring the gentle touch of the wind-battered wood against his skin. The horizon was clear, undiscovered waters lay ahead, and the skies held a silent promise. Life is for the living, his father always said. Aye, Jack had witnessed the dead walking under the sun and he could say with a certainty ever so strong that life should be reserved for the living.

And yet – and yet ghosts of the past walked these very decks, no matter how hard Jack tried to fight them. He could see them with a clarity that unsettled him. After all these years, why now, why this… and he wondered if it wasn't too late, if maybe, just maybe…

But he was aware of the changing tides. Wave upon wave crashed over him and he knew, he knew…

He watched in silence as Henry Turner left the Black Pearl, eyes aglow, his spirit young and pure and eager. You are no pirate, son. Young Henry belonged somewhere else, and Jack did not begrudge him his place. To each his destined life. The boy was made for security.

With great wonder, Jack let relief wash over him. He loved the boy, absurd as it was. He wanted him safe and happy, that was the truth of it. He couldn't bear the thought of those brown eyes filled with grief, of that plump mouth twisted by anguish. Henry Turner was precious in a way treasure never could be.

When Miss Carina stepped into the small boat next to Henry, she glanced back at Jack – nay, at the Pearl. And the old pirate knew, then and there, that Carina Barbossa was a being of freedom. He smiled to himself. Before long she would be sailing these waters. And he would keep a careful eye on her – he would make sure not to let another Barbossa rob him of his beloved Pearl.

And out they sailed to the small island. Island of safety and peace, Henry's place; Henry's home. Jack lingered there, waiting. He gave no orders, not yet. The horizon could wait just once more.

And surely enough, the Flying Dutchman appeared out of the depths. A smile crept onto Jack's face, but he hurriedly wiped it off with the back of his hand, running his sleeve over his lips. He watched in solemn silence, and so did his men.

Hope was a rather elusive thing, Jack decided. Easily lost, sometimes found in the strangest of manners. It could be anything; it could be hiding anywhere. It could be a breath of fresh air, a speck of land on the horizon, a smile on a stranger's face or the glimmer of gold and silver. It could be hidden in a pair of bright blue eyes, concealed under the ocean's depth or safely locked away in a tiny glass bottle…

Hope was everywhere, and yet it was so hard to grasp. Ever-changing, like the seas…

And there was Will Turner, captain – nay, former captain – of the Dutchman, walking onto dry land a free man. His son, his wife, their life together… everything was as it should have been so many years ago.

Jack allowed himself to look through his spyglass. He watched Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann, as fiery and passionate as they once were – once, when they were young and new to the world. Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann, locked in a desperate embrace, an eternal bond.

Oh, and old Jack felt something sting in the corner of his eyes. He clenched his spyglass and held his breath. Maybe, just maybe…

"She never mentioned you," Henry had said. And Will? "Father warned me against you," Henry had been clear. No, there was no going back, not even for a second, not even in this lifetime…

Jack hated the stirrings the view produced somewhere above his abdomen – mere stirrings they were, and yet he hated them. Ghosts of the past once more slipped their icy fingers around his chest and he let out a long, shaky breath.

The Turners, together finally, and he was watching from afar. As it should be – he had caused them enough pain throughout the years. He didn't feel anything that resembled guilt and he did not regret the past. Will becoming captain of the Dutchman, Elizabeth raising a child alone, all the deaths and loses… they were all twists of fate. But still Jack knew the facts; without his untimely intrusion into their lives, none of these misfortunes would have befallen the couple.

They needed their peace. A life where Jack had no place.

They kissed – what a familiar sight. What a heartbreakingly familiar sight. "What a truly revolting sight," he said out loud, grimacing.

And that was that. He looked away.

Tied not to land, but to the sea – that was Jack Sparrow's curse and blessing. So bring me that horizon, and by God he would make the most of what was left of his life.

A pirate's life.