Disclaimer: I don't own PoTC or any of its characters.

Warning: AWE spoilers.

Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly,
A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.

- "When Coldness Wraps This Suffering Clay" by George Gorodon Byron

Over Satin Seas

Sparks of unbridled flames, unused, unacknowledged, glint in her eyes, and he notices the gentle pain in her expression as she smiles sadly.

Her hands extend, suave movements that tilt forward, like a boulder descending from a cliff, lingering on the edge, unsure whether a jump is worth the effort. But even in her careless uncertainty, she leans, her smooth rose petal lips, curled and fading at the bud's edge, purse slightly.

Surprise swims in her gaze as he lifts his hands in defense and leans backwards to escape her alluring presence.

"Once was quite enough, darling," Jack says with a whimsical grin. Yet behind the façade of his glittering gold smile, his copper mask, he breaks in remembrance.

Fake, false; a lie to hide what truths he dared to conceal.

But the words are nonetheless elegant as they are convincing, rolling off his thirsty tongue like bitter juice, a drink and taste that he does not care for, and wishes to choke until he is satisfied with the flavor or rum. Just as he spits the words out like foul juices, foreign and sickening, he craves the illicit, rum-soaked sweetness of her imploring mouth, opening like the tentative clasp of a lock - her lips, moving like the hinges of a lock on an old chest, snapping open by the key of his voice to reveal the buried treasures beneath depths where he has not explored.

Elizabeth nods slightly in acquiescence, and moves to turn away, treading steadily along, out of sight, of reach.

His eyes watch her, igniting into fireflies that gather against her form, spiraling in her sea-salt hair, their white-hot flames splashing upon her retreating back as she departs.

Behind the shadow of his thoughts, Jack feels the gentle timbre of taste against his memory, the unique scent that carries her through wind and sea.

Solemnly, Jack tilts his head, and moves across the deck, withdrawing to his quarters and sitting at his desk, studying the maps dimmed with black smudges, the stains of rum.

He hears the faint spinning of a compass, sees her face in every turn. The arrow points towards suns-soaked shores and raging seas, yet in the center rests her reflection, a mirror of starlight and endless skies.

Of oceans his mind's eye cannot comprehend... silken, silver, gliding over his brain like satin moonlight...

And slowly, the copper mask rusts, melted by the blaze of his lies.

The metal oozes and drips, tumbling over his cheeks, his mouth, where the ivory shadow of her lips remain a scar: the scab that her rosebud mouth left upon his, sullied with salty sunshine, a light that he cannot feel.

The sunlight burns beneath the copper of his tears, and the scab throbs and bleeds, aching with an illicit sweetness that no thought of his can chill, nor memory reclaim.