A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! I know I haven't been showing you readers how much I appreciate it lately. But thank you. Thank you so much. Your encouragement and interest really means a lot to me. Especially you, Sentinel Sparrow. I think that I can safely say you have commented every time I make and update lol.

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. The title is actually from a poem that I wrote myself. It's about wanting more of someone than you can actually have.

Chapter 28: Moment

When she woke up, Jack's words were still echoing in her mind. He had gone too far. Of course, she had yelled at him first. But he had never attempted to control his angry outbursts around her, and she was sick of it. Of course, the realization of it all had not hit her entirely yet. Right now, she was simply angry. Jack was an idiot, and so was she to have ever gotten involved with him. She did not want to get aboard the same ship as him, and had half a mind to just deal with this curse instead of traveling with him ever again. She laid in bed until she couldn't stand it anymore and her brain hurt from thinking about everything. It was still early. Perhaps Jack would be in a drunken stupor and not up yet, and she could chance getting some breakfast.

She was horribly mistaken. When she came downstairs, the very first thing she saw was the captain, with his chin held up high, walking with extremely good posture across the tavern. He wasn't swaggering, he wasn't holding his hand out in front of him like usual. He looked very proud, but a different kind of proud. Jack Sparrow had always been proud and carried himself with dignity, but a different kind. This was a formal kind of dignity, like the former Commodore Norrington.

She was not prepared at all to see Jack sober like this. If he had been drunk, she could've soothed herself by seeing how pathetic he was, and it would have been so much easier to simply roll her eyes and ignore his state. But this…he was so important now, and he seemed to fit his legendary title. He was almost with an air of arrogance…because he's done with me, she realized. A burden had been lifted off him. He was content now, and could perform his duties without any emotional baggage. (I might add, that if she had seen his face at all she wouldn't have thought any of this.)

She turned and ran back up the stairs, bumping into James. She muttered an apology and kept going as he turned around. "Camille, are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, leave me be!" she said, shutting herself in her room.

Minutes later, she heard a gentle knock sounding on her door. She hoped it was Jack, and then mentally berated herself for having that hope. It was Gretchen, and her heart sank. Gretchen was the absolute next to last person she ever wanted to see besides Captain Sparrow.

"Camille?" she nearly whispered. She crept in, shutting the door behind her. "James told me you looked very upset. Is it about last night?"

Camille couldn't reply with a decent answer, and simply began blubbering. No clear words came out, only bits and pieces between her flowing tears. She was surprised at how fast Gretchen was to comfort her, and how safe it felt to have arms around her when she was crying.

Gretchen was very patient. It seemed they had switched personalities for the moment as Gretchen patted and rubbed her back, hushed her and calmed her down, and held her hands tightly while she tried to talk. Gretchen listened to everything Camille was trying to say, and nodded understandingly.

"Camille," she finally said. "I think I may know something that will make you feel better." But before she could continue, Ana Maria was in the room.

"The only thing that's goin' to make you feel better after a jackass like that is a couple of good, strong drinks. Come on, lass."

"Ana Maria, it's not even noon yet," Camille protested as Ana dragged her to her feet.

Gretchen stood up, too. "Ana Maria, I was in the middle of telling Camille that-"

"Didn't you learn from anything on the voyage thus far that a woman like you should be rarely seen and not heard?" Ana demanded rudely. At this, the icy cold stare that made itself so prevalent on Gretchen's face returned, and she flew out of the room. "Now then, let's go."

"I really can't," Camille said, trying to stay behind.

"Come on, the sooner the better. And I'll drink with ya. I could use some forgettin' about last night myself, if you know what I mean."

Camille was still so upset, she couldn't argue anymore. And at least if she liquored up enough, she could eventually forget Jack. That is, if she drank enough to make her more focused on making it to a place to vomit. And she did. It wasn't a very pretty sight, so I won't take the time to explain it.