Disclaimer: Rock slash aside, they're owned by the Mouse Touchstone.

That was the part where Jamie didn't wake up, and Jack did, choking on his screams and tasting copper.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he sat up in bed. The soft, pliant body beside him started to stir, so he slipped out and threw on some clothes. Finding his cigarettes on the way out, he lit one and took a deep breath. The nightmares always ended that way. Try as he might, neither drugs, drink, nor meaningless sex kept them away. He laughed bitterly. It was his subconscious telling him that either way Jamie was leaving him, like how right now he was standing in an empty hall. He'd stopped sleeping in his room. Rather than be alone, he'd stayed with whoever he'd randomly chosen for the night. Even the Pearl was cold comfort these days.

He could thank the miracle of Kevlar for Jamie's quick recovery. The man had taken over the situation, settling down shell-shocked Jack and handling the badges that night. But, Jamie was still leaving him. He'd given Anamaria two weeks notice, claiming he wasn't fit for duty anymore. Jack hadn't even known until he'd found the plane ticket by chance. They had a fight then, if you could call his shouting and Jamie's cool rebuttals a fight. After that, Jack had thrown himself into his work in a way that would've normally made Anamaria proud. As it was, she was telling him to stop boozing up and sleeping around in his free time. But, Jack couldn't stop.

Jamie must've found out that Jack cared, and now he was running for the hills. Alone again.

Taking another drag, Jack started for the stairs. He needed a drink, needed to forget. Thinking about it, this was Arthur's fault, too. The damn prick had offered Jamie some cushy desk job at a security firm in merry ol' London. It was as if Jamie couldn't get far away from him. If it wasn't for Lance, Jack would've liked to get at Arthur. Actually, damn Lance, too. He was slowly drawing in his man, all under the nice cover that sly Guin had set up. She'd arranged for them to be caught together in a compromising position - making out at some supposed lunch date. Now, they were each other's celebrity-acceptable beards, and they could screw who they really wanted in private.

Yes, everyone was happy except poor Jack. He might as well be marooned on some fuckin' island.

Carelessly stubbing the cigarette butt in a potted palm, he made for the bar. But, on his way there, he saw the kitchen lights open and hearing familiar voices, he stopped before the doorway.

"-really think that leaving's going to help?"

"It'll get me away from him."

Jack winced at the deadpan voice and started to move away.

"But, it won't change things."

"And how would staying be any different?"

"...He cares about you."

The guitarist froze where he was. That damn bitch Anamaria.

"Yes," sarcasm thick. "So much he's screwing someone upstairs."

"You didn't care before."

"Just 'cause I never said anything didn't mean I didn't care."

"So, why's it different now?"

"Because he knows." Pain seeped into the words. "He knows now."

"How sure are-"

"He's brought in a number of women and boys every night since then. Like I don't get it already."

A harsh laugh.

"He doesn't care," the man continued. "And I won't stay to have his lifestyle thrown in my face."

"You don't know that. Didn't you fight when he found the ticket?"

"Oh, he wants me to stay I'm sure. But only 'cause he likes constants. He's gotten used to my picking up after him."

"Jam-"

"Don't start, Ana. I'm leaving." Weary and resigned. "Maybe I'd have stayed if..."

"If?"

Jack held his breath.

"If only he didn't seem hell bent on destroying himself. That's it really. I'm a masochist, but even I can't stay and watch while he drinks and drugs himself to death."

"He's always been that way."

"It's worse. Didn't you notice his hands have started shaking? When will it get to the point that he can't play? It'll kill him. And I don't want to be there for that."

Anamaria started when she saw Jack move into the doorway. Watching Jamie's back tense, he looked to Anamaria. Nodding, she started to leave but not without throwing him a dark look as if to warn him: Don't fuck this up. Jack had no such intention. He entered the kitchen and stopped to stand beside Jamie at the kitchen island. Not looking at the other, he fidgeted with his lighter. ...Jamie's actually. He'd nicked it. After a moment, he slid the lighter over the marble to place it before Jamie.

"I'll stop smoking...easing on the rum might be harder."

"Jack-"

"First time, you've called me by my name." Jack smiled.

"...Jack...I can't do this. Look what happened with Barbossa. ...I can't protect you."

The guitarist flattened his palms on the counter. They were shaking.

"Jamie...you're the only one who can. You don't need to actually guard me...just stay."

The other man clenched his hands, and Jack put one of his over the other.

"Thought you knew I cared," he continued, soft and uncertain. "Thought you were running from me. ...Used the others to forget - isn't working."

Jamie choked back a humorless laugh.

"This won't be easy," the man said.

"'s long as you're with me."

The other looked at him for the first time since they'd started the conversation.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

Jamie's lips were sweet as ever.