"It will do," he agrees to the unspoken question. One that will never be asked as the answer has been in Will Turner's eyes since he laid the sword in Norrington's hands.

There is honor amount thieves, and he is nothing more than that now, Norrington thinks as he sets the gold on the rough-hewn table. Will smells of smoke and fire, the bellows that fuel the flames the only life in the room. Jack went to the end of the earth to die. Will followed him to live and somewhere along the line, fate stole from Will.

No honor there.

Norrington places three extra coins on the pile, unsure what they stand for, what they represent. Forgiveness? Commiseration? Understanding? No matter, it is blood money, and Will knows it all too well. "Three seems appropriate."

"Before," Will agrees, his voice as dead as his eyes as he takes two coins and tosses them in the fire. They won't burn, but blood washes off in flame far better than water. "Now, there's only one."

Norrington shakes his head, offering Will another piece of gold. "Two, by my reckoning."

Will meets his eyes and, for the first time, there is the hint of something inside them. "Reckoning?"

Norrington sheathes the sword and spreads the gold on the table. Stolen gold. Pirate gold. "There is always a reckoning."