You were on a ship. You looked at the wreckage of another ship with Mr. Mercer and Beckett. Beckett spoke up, "Bloody hell. There's nothing left."
"Jones is a loose cannon," you said, smiling. Your attitude towards Beckett was the most relaxed amongst anyone. You had actually laughed with him.
"Fetch the chest." Mr. Mercer went.
Something has been troubling you. Beckett seemed to require the Governor less and less and the Governor was asking a lot of questions about the heart. "What about the Governor?"
"His usefulness has run its course." He turned to you. You put on a poker face and internally panicked. "Go find your husband. We board the Dutchman soon."
You nodded and found James. "He wants to kill the Governor," you whispered.
His face snapped towards yours. "He wouldn't."
You looked up at him, worry tainting his eyes. "We can't show that we care." He nodded.
You boarded the Dutchman and faced Davy Jones, who said, "Go. All of you. And take that infernal thing with you." He eyed the chest. "I will not have that on my ship!"
Beckett emerged behind you and said, "Oh I'm sorry to hear that... because I will. Because it seems to be the only way to ensure that this ship do as directed by the company."
James walked away with the chest. You looked at Davy Jones and said calmly, "We need prisoners to interrogate, which tends to work best when they're alive." Beckett chuckled.
"The Dutchman sails as its captain commands," he replied.
Now Beckett was insulted and raised his voice, "And it's captain is to sail it as commanded." The crew murmured and Beckett stepped closer to Jones. "I would have thought you learned that when I ordered you to kill your pet. This is no longer your world, Jones. The immaterial has become.... immaterial."
Beckett turned around and walked away. You felt bad for Jones. You felt guilty over so much that everything burdened on your soul. You walked around, supposedly looking for anyone who might've stayed behind, and found the organ. There was a music box there. You listened to it. It was a song of heartbreak.
You looked at the organ. You could play it. You sat down and played the song from the music box and improvised it from there. It was such a gentle, yet powerful melody. One your heart could beat to, one your mind could race through. It hurt to play a song that described how you felt so perfectly. Lost, wrong, betrayed.
You got emotional. Everything that was happening around you seemed to hit you while you played those keys.
You didn't stop until Davy Jones himself stopped you.
He didn't say anything. He felt pain, just as you, but a different kind. You held out your hand and he shook it. He took the music box and placed it in your hand. "I'm sorry," you whispered.
He walked away and so did you.