Title: Little By Little

Author: WickedRum

This is just for my own and the readers' enjoyment. Regular disclaimers apply.

Please review as always. Cynicism/criticism is allowed too.

Thanks: guess what? After so many years I'm still thanking the Adrian Paul Estrogene Brigade for their encouragement and giving me a start with fanfic and because this is a rewrite of one of those fics I wrote a long time ago.

Universe: post AWE.

Summary: Gibbs is helping a lost Jack. Enjoy!

Pairing: thoughts of Sparrabeth, Jack/Gibbs friendship.

Rating: G in prescribed terms, but not for those with a weak stomach :)

Genre: h/c.

Even before Gibbs opened the captain's cabin door to go and finally wake him up as it was approaching midday and the crew started to ask questions about him, the smell became evident for an experienced drinker like he was. It was the malodorousness of different kinds of rum mixed together with the stink of their thrown up form. The view explained everything a couple of seconds later. The room was scattered with emptied bottles, with Jack lying knocked out and side-a-ways on the once a long time ago clean bed, left arm lifelessly almost reaching the floor conforming with that law of gravitation Jack told him about he didn't understand why it had to be discovered since everybody knew things just fell anyway. Has Jack been drinking all night?

Jack didn't seem to have noticed his first mate's arrival. The bed was soaking in the previous contents of the younger pirate's stomach, also known as lots of yellowish, brownish fluid. Drink intoxication seemed appropriate to presume. He wanted to be knocked out big time, if one may suppose.

Gibbs knew that all this, his friend in this state, but more importantly him being like this when Barbossa was still around to snatch his ship only mean one thing. Or two. Or neither. It was either Jack trusted him and the crew, that would've been a ridiculous thing to do, or he didn't care about his ship. Both inconceivable. Gibbs wrinkled his forehead as he heard his captain mutter the word Lizzie. Was he dreaming about being sent to the locker? His relationship with Elizabeth has been queer to say the least, he couldn't tell to the very day if they liked each other or not. However it was, he ended up with the job of cleaning up the act this time, in more ways that one. He almost cursed at taking in the extent of those cleanings, but looking at Jack his strong feelings of annoyance turned into concern. Yes, sure, Gibbs needed to be washed up himself quite a few times when overindulging in rum, but he was happy when he did so as opposed to Jack, who was the incorporation of sorrowfulness since they've parted from Elizabeth. Or was it he didn't get to keep the Flying Dutchman? Was it a coincidence? No matter what, the right decision here was to stay with him and watch him. He would be needing a friend when he woke up, he could leave Ragetti by the helm. And Joshamee Gibbs will be around for Jack, always. With a sigh, he went for the bucket to start cleaning up.

A glary white hot light drilled in Jack's head. It must've been the sun. If so, where was Elizabeth, his sunshine? Oh, no, Elizabeth left, and what was left for him now? Senseless wenches, as many as he wanted, but none like her. How could he not drink her out of his system! Jack raised his weighty eyelids. Gradually, the room emerged from a colorless cloud. He peeped on every side. How did he even get down here? How did he ever make it to his quarters? Who brought him here back on board his ship? Why was the ship moving? When did they leave port? He couldn't remember. What was wrong with him? He forced to recall...the blankness that covered his consciousness hurt. He glanced at his hands and legs. He could move them. Apart from some tenseness and muscles spasms, he felt fine. He had his trousers on, and a strange shirt that wasn't his and it was too short for him. His own clothes lay on the floor in a pretty damn dirty slimy mess. But for what reason? He searched the room once more. On the seat close to the bed were some other clothes and some shoes. He forced on the boots, they were too tight as well. What the hell? He couldn't recollect possessing a pair of those. He attempted to remember, the headache intensified...it was only the melancholy that was creeping in. Blank. What on earth had occurred. Dismay tensed him as his senses instructed him to move his legs. The rigidity ended as he grabbed the coat that hung on a peg and made for the door.

"Begod! Captain!" His first mate stepped in the very door startled, just when he wanted to head out. "I took the liberty to get your sicked on clothes off, I hope you don't mind." Gibbs was uneasy as to how to overlap that muddle that characterized Jack's behavior lately and how to go back to the old days of ease from the times just after Jack hired him. He needed to find a common cord pretty soon, if he wanted to comfort the younger pirate. Not just for Jack's sake, but for his own as well. Gibbs was completely aware of the importance of that. A little bit more of this behavior and they'd lose the ship to Barbossa. If Gibbs was wanting to have a chance at sailing with Jack, it was crucial that he now forgot all the insults and annoyances that he could come up with at any moment being angry with Jack and say something that mattered. But nothing much occurred to him, something that the younger pirate wouldn't already know. A wise saying that would solve everything. They didn't really exist. But he could take care of the young man, "where are you going?" he finally blurted out.

Gibbs. The fight with Beckett. Elizabeth…everything got clear again for Jack in a flash. It was his ultimate cry for help getting that drunk, he knew Gibbs would try to sort it out. He felt sad and empty. He couldn't sleep. He felt worthlessness because of being beaten by fate. And guilty every day for not being good enough of a man for Elizabeth. Ignoring Gibbs, he continued his way out. He wanted to ask for his help, but he was discomfited by the idea, too proud. Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't going to ask for help, at least not with words. Hell! He was going to make that mistake all over again, wasn't he? It was either that the older pirate will figure that one out by himself and stop him destroying himself, or he was just gonna leave it at that, suffer more, kill himself with the drink, just so accidentally. He wasn't going to ask help from Gibbs or anyone. Bursting into a dash, he warped out the doorway and to the corridor. He didn't contemplate, he just ran and he kept running, up the stairs and out to the deck. In front of all the crew, Gibbs must leave him alone. He didn't even hear Gibbs shouting and running after him. He couldn't slow down. He needed to run. To hide. From something. He ran.

People jumped out of his road as he charged up to the helm. He was on a ship, was there anywhere to run? So he ran back down, making a very weird appearance. Pintel waved. Nobody was surprised. Captain Jack was a weird man, but it all made sense in the end or so the crew trusted.

Tbc