bringmethatnpc | Sayonara, Mr. Governor.

Sayonara, Mr. Governor.

Their plans...are not proceeding apace.

"Bloody hell," Beckett murmurs, surveying what's left of the latest ship, "there's nothing left."

Mercer observes, "Jones is a loose cannon, sir."

There's a long pause: Lord Cutler Beckett is thinking. Finally: "Fetch the chest."

"And the governor?" Beckett looks over his shoulder at Mercer. "He's been asking questions about the heart.

Beckett's eyes narrow. "Does he know?"

Silence from Mercer is, apparently, a yes.

"Then perhaps," Beckett says peaceably, "his usefulness has run its course."

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The intervening space between the Company ship to the Flying Dutchman is crossed with a minimum of hassle, the men handling the boats being well-trained and long used to the procedure.

Mr. Mercer accompanies Governor Swann in the second boat to cross, impassively surveying the wave-tossed wreckage in the waters around them. The blue of the Caribbean shines in the sunlight, warm and bright, in complete disregard of the number of seafarers who had so recently found themselves sinking into the sea's ultimately cold embrace.

Governor Swann has seen carnage. He's never gotten used to it. That's one reason why he's not a military man. He holds his handkerchief to his nose to block out the smell of burning wood, pitch, and flesh and grimaces as he watches a body float by.

Even more repulsive is the Flying Dutchman looming ahead.

"I really don't see why I have to go aboard," he announces to Mercer, who had the nerve to it right beside him, and not behind him. "The Admiral has no need of me."

Unlike the Governor, Mercer seems untouched by either the sight or the smell of the carnage.

"Obviously he does, Gov'nor," Mercer replies, turning to glance at him, "Or else you wouldn't be going aboard."

"Well, alright then," he murmurs.

"Is the chest being left on board," he snaps, "or are you lot going to taunt that terrible thing with it?"

Governor Swann does indeed know more than he should.

So he does.

Not that it will matter for much longer.

"It isn't taunting," Mercer says with a faint trace of a nasty-looking grin on his normally impassive face. "It's motivation."

"Oh? Is that what they call it now?"

He'd likely not speak with the same tone as he would with Cutler Beckett. Still the contempt would be there, just disguised slightly better.

The grin is gone from Mercer's face the moment that tone of the Governor's is heard.

"If it gets the intended results, it is." Though Beckett would probably just call it good business.

"To possess that chest is to control the Flying Dutchman. Sometimes its captain simply needs to be reminded."

Another body floats by distracting Swann.

"Hmmm. Yes, well," he mumbles, deciding to ignore Mercer for the time being. He's an uncouth murderer, after all, and beneath the Governor's station.

It's soon enough that the boats reach the Dutchman and Swann is helped on board by the soldiers boarding alongside. Mercer is completely forgotten.

Admiral Norrington is given charge of the ship, who Weatherby thinks is a far sight better than the creature currently captaining the vessel.

And then the chest is paraded past and soldiers stationed around it.

Once the crew is settled, Weatherby creeps into the cabin in which the chest has been placed under guard. He walks around it, nodding kindly to the frightened soldiers as he does.

He places a hand on the chest, as if to open it.

As he does, the door opens behind him. Mercer's gaze flicks down to the hand upon the chest, then back up to the Governor.

"Time to go, Gov'nor. There's nothing there to interest you."

"Already?"

He glances at the chest one more time, not moving his hand. Then he moves along.

Maybe the ship they're to meet will be close by now. He's ready to be quit of Mercer and his master.

"You're to be taken across," Mercer says, nodding in the direction of the Company ship they so recently departed, as he closes the door behind them. "Lord Beckett's orders."

"He seems to think your curiosity would get the better of you."

"Oh, does he?"

He follows along, not realizing they're going around the opposite way of where the boats are.

"He's probably right. I was wondering what would happen if that beastly heart were removed."

"You don't seem to be the type to turn pirate, gov'nor," Mercer says with a hint of that nasty grin, again.

However, then piracy may turn out to be an inherited trait, after all.

"Thinking it'd be an easy way to get a ship of your own?"

"No," he says. "I was thinking that would be a good way out of all this. What do you mean it would get me a ship of my own?"

Mercer gives him a sideways glance. "The one who stabs that heart and ends its beating gets the Dutchman. Gets to sail the seas forever."

"Only," he says, turning to the Governor, "the one who stabs the heart must replace that heart with his own. The Dutchman must have a captain."

He shoots a horrified glance at Mercer.

"How ghastly."

It's about then, on this side of the ship where the noise and bustle is absent all of a sudden that he notices the lack of boats.

"Why have you brought me this way? The boats are on the other side, aren't they?"

"They are," Mercer nods. "Then again, you've made it a habit of being observant."

The knife that Mercer keeps concealed about his person is always kept within quick reach. So it is only a split second later that Mercer is stepping close to plunge his knife through the thick layers of the Governor's clothes, striking just under the ribcage at an upward angle, to pierce the heart.

There is no pain, at first. There is pressure, though, and most of all, there is shock.

His mouth forms an "o" and he stares at Mercer, unbelieving.

He is aware, somehow, of the smell of the sea. It is sharp, salty, and tears form in his eyes.

Mercer's face doesn't change as he leans his weight against the knife, pushing the Governor against the low railing that edges the side of the Dutchman. The Governor's own weight pulls the knife free of his chest, leaving it in Mercer's black-gloved hand as he watches the Governor topple overboard.

The business of getting the boats ready for Lord Becket to return to the Company ship, mostly out of sight on the other side of the Dutchman, covers the sound of the splash neatly. Another body sinking to join those from the destroyed ship is of little note, as it is.

Mercer pulls out his hankerchief to clean his knife of blood as he steps away from the railing, heading back to report.

Blackness slides over his vision as the sun is blotted out. Night falls, and he cannot catch his breath, and he's falling, Dear Lord, he's falling overboard and-

Elizabeth...

Caroline...

He's gone before his body hits the water.

When his eyes open, it's night still, but it's peaceful. Calm. The row boat rocks gently on the waves, and the stars illuminate the dark sky.

Caroline awaits him, but the journey to her is long yet. He patiently sits in his boat, no longer needing to catch his breath, and he waits.

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Sayonara, Mr. Governor.

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