Disclaimer: If you look very carefully, in AWE, at Bill Turner's left ear in the scene directly after Davy Jones is playing his organ, you will see a small tag with the word "Mine" printed on it. Disney might own the franchise, but at least I own the tag! :D (Or maybe it was all part of a lovely dream I had.)

Summary: Being trapped at the bottom of the ocean for ten years in a soft, unprotected, immortal human body probably sucks after the first three or four sharks notice you.

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Logic would tell that grown men are not supposed to be afraid of the dark. Bill Turner knows better.

The bottom of the ocean is deep, deeper than any honest sailor (or pirate, for that matter) can ever hope to imagine. The pressure beats down upon his chest, a relentless force that leaves him breathless despite no bodily need for air, dizzy and sightless in the crushing dark. His stomach is fouled, roiling, and whatever instincts his body still possesses force him to retch until his throat is raw, though he feels no true pain, and the cramping in his belly is almost as bad as the eternity that surrounds him.

Though the cannon he is strapped to is made of solid iron, the weight of the water is heavier still. But after the first few years, it is the dark that he knows the best. The soft balm of the moon does not filter down through the knifing waves of the Caribbean, not to where Bill now lays his head.

When the fish and the crabs and the sharks come to investigate, there is flesh for them to nibble upon and not just a moonlit skeleton.

Yes, Bill thinks. As far as he is from the moon's bone-white face, it is the jawing, chewing darkness that holds itself closest to his soul.