A/N: SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry that I haven't updated in....god knows how long :S I have suddenly rediscovered my zest for james and POTC in general, and remembered this story! Just a little drabble crappy piece to get me going again, but hopefully more will follow ;)

"James, let me go."

He stood with his back to me, shrouded in pale dusk that wrapped her fingers through the window. I felt strangled as the night encroached, all ways out slashed and barred to me. The sun was dipping low over the sea, desperate rays drowning beneath the surface. Again, I struggled at the bond that held me in place. The ship's hull rattled ghoulishly beneath us. James turned, his face coming into the light of the oil lamp. It aged him, and I saw the man he would one day become. His face was creased deeply by the oily light, and my mind stuttered with images of a hunched, greying Admiral; a man dried up and withered with decades of sea salt.

"The ship cannot turn back now," he said softly, eyes not meeting mine. I slammed my head back into the pillow, chewing at my lips. They were bloody already…I had been doing it in sleep…

"We'll be at port within a week or so-" he paused to rub a subconscious finger over his pistol "-accommodation has been secured, until we can decide on a more permanent residence-"

"No, NO!"

"-And of course your treatment will continue as soon as we make port."

He had reached the bedside now. A hand met my screams of protest, and more sedative was poured down my throat. Burning, like strong liqueur taken in too large a quantity, it overwhelmed my senses. I didn't quite see anymore. Nevertheless, my coughing reflexes were perfectly apt, and a large quantity was expelled sluggishly down my chin.

"Y-you're evil," I choked on my puckered lips. "I'll kill you."

Throughout the fall into darkness, the pain in his eyes remained. His green gaze hovered before my dying vision, snuffing out my final string of consciousness. Like a phosphorescent thread, it faded into nothing.