Disclaimer: I don't own POTC or any of the characters. No suing plzkthnxbye.

As always, this didn't turn out exactly like I wanted it to. But I'm quite pleased with it anyway, so that's all okay then! This has very gentle slash, so if you don't like that, then don't read it. Sorry for the horrible formatting, this site doesn't like me very much right now...


Will has nightmares. It feels like he's been having them forever, but he knows exactly when they started: when he left England. Specifically, the day the ship fell apart around him and all that was left was him, the medallion, and the sea crushing down on him.

When he was brought to Port Royal, he was so scared of the sea at first that he could hardly bear to look at it. He was scared that with just the smallest glance he'd be sucked in, pushed under and drown before he could stop it. Since Port Royal was, quite obviously, centred around a port, it made avoiding the sea quite difficult. He'd found a job as a blacksmith's apprentice, and before long his boss grew so tired of Will's phobia that he forcibly threw him into the sea to rid him of it. Will had panicked (fairly enough), but finally broke the surface and swam back – however frantically – to land. Everyone viewed the blacksmith's measures – while undoubtedly extreme – as a huge success. Will could acknowledge the sea's existence and could even walk along the harbour. He claimed he would be able to swim or sail a boat. But he still dreamed of the dark, still and lonely seabed.

- - -

For the first time in years, Will slept without dreaming about his fears. The Interceptor creaked reassuringly beneath him, as though promising to catch him if anything went wrong. His hammock was rocked gently beneath him, like a crib, while the sea sung him its own lullaby. And most of all, Captain Jack Sparrow paced in his cabin or on the deck, or just stood quietly watching the sea move beneath his feet. It seemed like Jack never slept, but his presence was enough to lull Will into dreams of soft brown eyes holding him up above the waves.

- - -

Jack Sparrow doesn't sleep until he has no choice. Only when he's nearly collapsing from sheer exhaustion does he even contemplate sleeping. Because he can't ever stop moving. The second he does he'll see the Pearl, his only hope, growing smaller and smaller on the horizon. He'll see the faces of his mutinous crew again and know, just know, that he's going to die. Maybe not today, maybe not even this week, but one day soon he's going to die and there'll be nothing left of him and no one will ever speak of Captain Jack again. He'll fade and stop, and that's all there is to it. Even now, closing his eyes, he can see the island again. The sun is blinding him, but when he opens his eyes it's the middle of the night. He recognises himself in Will Turner. There's something in the tilt of the head, the vaguely haggard look about his eyes that marks him as the same. But Will is all stillness and watchfulness, while Jack is movement and never, ever stopping.

The next night, Jack watches Will sleep.

- - -

Onboard the Black Pearl, Will can't sleep. The crew are snoring in the cell opposite him, and every now and then Gibbs mutters something, but that's not the reason he can't close his eyes. He's bone tired, soaked through and shivering, and yet the thought of sleep doesn't even occur to him. But he thinks about the sea. He thinks about the waves crashing around the boat, and Jack, helpless, being swallowed up by them. He thinks, and he sees Jack Sparrow sink to the bottom of the ocean.

- - -

Jack doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to stop talking. The second he does, he knows what he'll think about. Will, motionless, gold treasure strewn around him as if it could compare to him.

- - -

Will sleeps and dreams. The Dauntless sails slowly and gently back to Port Royal, and Jack is there and Jack is the only one who can keep him safe.

- - -

Jack can't sleep anymore without hearing Will's breathing.

- - -

A memory. His eyes opening to see Jack slumped in a chair by his hammock, fast asleep and breathing deeply. Will watches his chest rise and fall, feeling that the sea itself is moving in time with Jack, or maybe it's the other way around. His eyes drift shut again and he smiles to himself.

- - -

Back in a prison cell again, Jack listens to the sound of the sea and the world moving on without him.

- - -

In Port Royal, Will's dreams take on a new shape. The familiar dream of his hands clawing to reach the surface morphs and changes, and it's darker, rougher hands that he sees. They reach out, and despite the shackles covering the old tattoo, he knows that the hands belong to Jack Sparrow. And he watches as the hands stop and there's only the sea and Jack's body being dragged by the currents. And he wakes up screaming.

In those dreams, he can understand what the future will be without Jack and so he plots and schemes and comes up with an escape.

- - -

At least, Jack thinks, people will be talking about this for months to come. At least he isn't on that island, alone and fading. If he has to go, the very least he can do is make sure that people will remember him.

- - -

Will would rather spend a thousand sleepless nights and a thousand wasted days waiting for Jack than see the light finally die from his eyes. Even though the accusing whispers will follow him everywhere, and even if it means he'll never sleep peacefully ever again, he knows that the only thing he wants is to get Jack out of Port Royal. And besides, he's already done it before he has the chance to change his mind.

He can face any nightmare if it means that Jack is still moving, constant, and not buried in an unmarked grave somewhere.

- - -

Jack Sparrow only sleeps when he's forced to. Only when some well-meaning member of his crew demands that he at least tries to sleep will he even think about it. And even then, his sleep is restless and light, and the smallest sound will wake him. Sometimes, he dreams of Will Turner.

- - -

Will has nightmares. Always has, and always will. But sometimes, he dreams about Jack Sparrow.