an: i kept writing myself into a corner with this fic, but here's the next chapter, featuring drunk!dutchy, verydrunk!dutchy, a meddling bartender, and notamused!kate.

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i never said (i'd be your friend)

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Dylan sits at the bar and downs another shot of whiskey. It burns going down his throat, but it's a feeling that he relishes. He motions to the bartender for another drink, and silently raises this glass in a silent toast. Here's to another spectacular fuck up, Dylan, you almost got the X killed, again. He drinks, and requests another. The bartender raises an eyebrow, but shrugs and refills his glass. Dylan ignores the silent judgement – he's in a bar for chrissake, what does she expect, - and finishes the drink – here's to the X, who managed to rescue herself and the little girl, with no help from you.

His mind flashes back to those interminable hours after they'd taken her on the speedboat – hours where, despite his optimistic words to Bird, the little voice in the back of his head had kept up a steady chant of she's dead and it's your fault, she's dead and it's your fault, she'sdeadshe'sdeadshe'sdead. He's always had a vivid imagination, and it had been all too easy for him to picture the kidnappers killing Kate. "Keep 'em coming," he grits out, motioning for another refill. He slams the drink back quickly, the empty glass echoing against the scratched wood of the bar.

"Rough day?" the bartender questions, as she pours.

Dylan glances up at her, but doesn't reply. He can still see kidnapper with his gun to Kate's head, his arm pulling her head back, can still hear the echo of gunshots on the island when they hadn't been able to see anything. He can still feel his gut twisting as he realized that she could die and that he'd spent the last day being an asshole to her. He drains the glass again, and then another two before the buzz finally kicks in. Dylan sighs, almost in relief as his gut finally stops churning. "Like you wouldn't believe," he says in answer, realizing absently that it had been a little while since she'd asked him.

"What's got you all twisted up, then?"

Dylan looks at her as she wipes up a spill on the bar. God, she's a baby. She looks even younger than Bird, and he idly wonders if she's even old enough to be serving him alcohol. He takes his time with this drink, staring down into his glass.

"Ah, girl trouble?" She laughs, as if she's discovered a big secret.

Not in the way you're thinking, kid. He drinks, motions for more, settles into a rhythm. The kid doesn't seem to mind that he isn't responding to her inane chatter, probably glad that she actually has a customer. Dylan isn't sure where he'd found this bar – it's a dive, for lack of a better word, and not one that the crew (nor the locals, it seemed) would frequent. He'd wanted to be alone tonight, unable to stand the thought of celebrating their success tonight, as 2Dads had put it.

She almost died and it's your fault. He frowns as the thought flits through his mind. She almost died and it's your fault. Your fault. He drains his glass again, hoping to drown out his thoughts.

"'maybe wanna slow down there a little?" The kid's voice breaks through, and he blearily lifts his gaze to look at her.

"'m not drunk." He can still hear that sly taunting in his mind, still picture Kate's body lying on that island, bleeding out before he could find her. "Not drunk enough, anyway."

The kid shrugs, pours another drink. "Your liver, mate." She tilts her head. "Your wallet, too."

Your fault, his brain helpfully chimes.

Dylan drinks.

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Hours later, he's feeling no pain. His brain has mercifully shut up, and his rough nerves finally feel smoothed out. He's just finished telling the kid about 2Dads and his crocodile escapades, when she shakes her head, interrupting him.

"So tell me about the girl," she says.

"What girl?" Dylan asks, looking around. There's no one else in the bar apart from him and Birdlite. Birdlite, 'cause she's a younger version of Bird, he thinks.

"The girl," Birdlite says. "The one that's got you drowning your sorrows at 1AM on a Tuesday night."

"Oh," he says. "That's Kate." He raises his glass in a mock toast, before he drinks.

"Kate, huh?" Birdlite repeats. "So what did Kate do?"

"Kate hates me." He drains his glass. "Because I let her get kidnapped and she almost died and it was my fault," he adds helpfully, because he does like to be helpful. Dylan taps his glass, watches as she fills it while shaking her head.

"Kidnapped? Really?"

"Yup." He frowns, "She probably hates me because I've been trying not to talk to her as well – Swain and Charge think that I like her!" He looks indignant, as if he can't believe their nerve.

"Yeah, and who are they when they're at home?"

"Swain's our medic, and Charge keeps the ship running," he explains, before returning to his previous train of thought. "They think I like her, like her," he adds, because clearly she hasn't understood why that's a ridiculous notion. "It's not like they know that I kissed her, even if it didn't mean anything and I really shouldn't have done it."

"Kate?"

"Yes, Kate!" Dylan slumps down on the bar, his mood dropping. "She almost died, and it was my fault."

"You tried apologizing to her?" Birdlite drawls, her expression decidedly unsympathetic.

"To Kate?" Dylan looks up. "Why would I do that?"

"'cause she almost died and it was your fault? For kissing her?"

"She's the one who jumped into the boat after things went wrong!" Dylan says, scowling, "and she kissed me back!"

"So it's her fault?"

"You're right, it is." Dylan replies, starting to become angry. Kate should have stayed in the zodiac, shouldn't have let herself get caught on the boat. How is he meant to protect her when she keeps doing stuff like that?

"Uh, that's not what I said mate," Birdlite says, distracting him.

Dylan shakes her words off, disregarding them. "If she just trusted me to do my job and protect her, we'd be fine," he rants, starting to build up steam. "Instead, it's 'stop it Dutchy, I can look after myself', hah, as if that's worked out so well for her!"

"You managed to rescue her then?"

"Well, I mean, she did save the kid, and managed to take out both kidnappers before we got to the island," Dylan says, "but that's beside the point!"

"Well, I kinda think that is the point – she's clearly able to take care of herself," Birdlite points out, pouring him another glass. "Maybe you should be the one trusting her," she says, shrugging.

Dylan frowns. He does trust Kate – it's like he'd told Bird earlier, the X is smart, and tough, – he just thinks she shouldn't be so careless about her own safety. He drains his glass again. "I need another drink."

Birdlite stares at him, before she shakes her head. "Sorry mate, I think you're done for the night."

"What?"

Birdlite shrugs. "You've gone through about two thirds of this bottle," she holds the bottle and shakes it in front of him. "You're done."

"Well, clearly there's more in the bottle."

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but I'm cutting you off, so you can't have any more."

"Oh." Dylan nods in understanding.

"How're you planning to get home?" Birdlite asks, eyeing the keys he'd placed on the bar earlier in the night.

"Home?" he repeats, looking at his keys as well. "Can't drive," he says promptly, "I'm drunk."

"Yeah, no shit," she says under her breath, before sighing. "Want me to call you a taxi?"

"A taxi?" Dylan asks, puzzled. "Why? Where am I going?"

"Hoo boy," Birdlite says, shaking her head. "Probably should've cut you off earlier." She watches as he folds his arms on the bar, and lays his head down. "Oi, mate, where's your phone?"

"Hmm?" Dylan pulls his phone out of his pocket and puts it on the bar, pillowing his head on his arms again. He can hear her clicking through his phone, but it's muffled, as if from miles away. He closes his eyes, and relaxes, let's his thoughts drift away.

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She picks up his phone, quickly scrolling through his contacts. She can see some of the names that the cute blond had mentioned (seriously, if he hadn't mentioned that he was Navy, she'd have been worried about some of the nicknames on his contacts list – 2Dads? Bomber?!), but she stops at 'Kate' and pauses, wondering if she should call. The blond is sleeping on her bar, and she can't leave him there – she does want to go home herself. Sighing, she presses the call button, listening to it ring through several times, before a woman's voice comes through.

"Dutchy?"

"Uh, no. I'm calling from Garrison's – I have, what'd you call him, Dutchy?" She waits for the somewhat bewildered confirmation before she continues. "Yeah, he told me to call you for a pickup?" Okay, so maybe that was a little white lie.

"What?"

"Yeah, he's blitzed, and I don't want to kick him out in this state. He's sleeping it off right now," she adds, biting back a laugh at the unfiltered response coming through the cell phone. Poor guy, this Kate chick sounded super mad. She rattles off directions when she's asked, not surprised that Kate didn't know where the bar was. Not many people did – she'd been surprised when Dutchy (these nicknames, man!) had walked in.

"See you soon," she says cheerily, before hanging up. The other woman had said she'd be there in ten minutes, so she can't have been too far away. She spends the rest of the time setting the bar to rights, wiping down the surfaces more from habit than necessity.

Sooner than she'd have thought, the door swings open and a pretty blonde woman walks in, wearing a blue dress and killer heels. Whoops, she must have been out already. Hopefully she hadn't interrupted a date?

"Hey, you must be Kate?" She nods towards the sleeping blond. "Your boyfriend's over there." Okay, so she knows they're not dating, but hey, she's a bartender, meddling is practically in her job description!

"My what?"

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an: okay, so notamused!kate was pretty much a cameo, but the next chapter is from her pov, so there's that to look forward to? as always, let me know what you're thinking.