Title: Gravitational Forces
Disclaimers: I don't own any pirate/ship and I don't wish to.
Genre: oneshot/drama/sketch.

Rating: PG for a little bit of slashy connotations.
Summary/Set: After Jack set off in a dinghy, Gibbs didn't hear from him for a while. Till...

Pairing: A little bit of this, a little bit of that, everyone can have feelings for a bunch of people at the same time, can't they? Implied relationships and thoughts.

"Gibbs!"

The voice sounded familiar, but in Tortuga, you could never be too careful. What's more, it was a wench addressing him, which spoke of some additional potential difficulties. He didn't like the trouble with wenches, it was more than it was worth. Sure it was nice to have a couple of ports where he was certain he could at least get a bowl of soup and or some other pot luck on a regular basis, but he has never been one of those sailors who had skirts waiting for them in every harbor. Of course it was all different when he used to set foot on land in the company of the renowned Captain Jack Sparrow. His superior's long term relationships were not exactly the greatest, but the captain at least could mostly enamor any wench for a night or two to the extent they then extended their warm welcomes to Jack's first mate as well. But since the pirate lord took off in a one person dinghy, not long after the war with the navvy, strangely not even too bothered that his Pearl was once again stolen by Barbossa, Joshamee Gibbs didn't bother with wenches of any kind too much anymore. It was hard earning an honest living just serving here and there, without the privileges of the title of first mate and without the wit of a captain like Jack, so he pretty much refused to do anything else than get stoned when on shore leave. Having given in to the rum's call for the last few hours again, it took him a while till he spotted the owner of the voice in the vivid chaos that was the harbor of Turtle Island, the very place he first fantasized about how Jack could've escaped from the islet he's been marooned on.

"Have the high winds made ye deaf or the rum dimmed yer deadlights?" The caller, waving at him wildly was wearing even a bit more bright colors than usual and she was, let's say a lil rounder than last time he saw her, but he'd finally recognized Giselle in her.

Gibbs sighed and cleaned the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his coat, then nodded in the wench's direction, acknowledging her existence. He waited swaying from one foot to other till the woman, who single handedly declared herself Jack's fiance once and for the duration of several months, dangled down the hill towards him. He still couldn't decide whether she was good news or bad news. He sure could do with a tad of attention from the ladies, but although Jack had let him in the room sometimes for a so called threesome, Giselle preferred if Gibbs was just watching.

She was more likely to ask him about Jack's whereabouts to which he had no answer to even if he would've wanted to tell her, or she'd simply deliver him one of those slaps she awarded him sometimes when he was the only one she could find around due to a lack of Jack. Oh, how he missed those days, how he missed Jack, how he missed their taciturn, contented hours watching the sails fill with the wind by the helm, their drunken, babbling nights in the taverns, Jack's whispering voice in his ears when he confided only in him, the captain's infectious energy and optimism driving him forward too, and he missed his tender touch on his shoulders, the only physical closeness their shared along the spiritual one. He cherished those moments, and when he could see Jack's naked body with Giselle or other wenches, or that time he caught him with Elizabeth and ex commodore Norrington, just before the Kraken. Jack was known to have relations with men occasionally as well, but Gibbs never dared to make advances. Their friendship was much more important. One the same note, how else could he have the exclusive right to haul Jack's seemingly blind drunk and naked body out the whore house? Useful experience it was for Jack too, since the pirate captain accidentally stumbled upon the means to drug nigh the entire naval squadron of the Spanish annual treasure fleet. Pity there was so much silver the Black Pearl couldn't possibly sail away with all of it. And then there was the fact that he was the only one Jack'd let near when when he was ill. His chest tightened. He just had to hope Jack was all right without him. He had to be, it's not as if he needed anyone, really, he reminded himself of that chest wound Jack had. He rowed for the length of two days and to safety with it all alone.

"Ye asleep now?" Giselle snapped him out of his reverie with a slap right enough, apparently to wake him up. He was standing there with his eyes open for God's sakes! His senses were a little sluggish though, by the time he could have had a good chance at figuring out what the wench wanted, she had passed him and was lifting her skirts up to take the steps down towards the butcher's on the narrow street.

He had two things to show the encounter for though, his red cheek and a piece of paper that was shoved in his hands. It was only one word written on it on the outside, Joshamee. It was soaked and dirty too, but he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere. He opened it eagerly to find his life had meaning again and all impossibles had a chance to turn into possibles.

Rendezvous at Santo Domingo. I've got the Pearl and something more.

Your Jack. (Captain)

If Jack was not adamant on teaching every crew member how to play the guitar again and therefore anger them enough for another mutiny, everything will be all right.

The End.