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He was curled into a corner, arms wrapped around his body, knees drawn up to his chest. He was shaking. But the worst of it was that he was making a low, moaning sound, as an animal might.
That sound breached the last of James’s misgivings. At that moment, he did not care that Jack Sparrow was a pirate and a criminal, a man he had himself sent to the gallows once. At that moment, he was a human being in torturous pain, and James could not bring himself to stand by and do nothing.
James got on his hands and knees and crawled close to him to lay a hand lightly on Sparrow’s sleeve. He did not respond at all, but kept up the horrifying keening sound. James put his other hand on Sparrow’s head. Was he imagining it, or did his moans subside a little? He sat down cautiously next to him, moving slowly, not wanting any sudden movements to alarm him. He still did not seem to notice James’s presence. James stroked his hand gently up and down Sparrow’s arm, and caressed his hair with the other.
Encouraged by the fact that Sparrow did not seem to mind his touch, James shifted closer to him, keeping one hand on his head, and gently pulled him closer. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, but allowed James to put his own arms around him as well. James held him close against him, tucking Sparrow’s head under his chin and continuing to stroke his hair, whispering to him, saying his name, hoping the sound of another human voice might bring some measure of comfort to him.
In a strange way, feeling Sparrow warm against his own body was a comfort to James as well. He could not remember the last time he had held someone in his arms, felt the comfort that merely touching another can bring. He guided them both down to the floor, realising as he did that Sparrow was silent now. James kept holding him close, patting his head rhythmically, and did not realise when they both drifted off into sleep.
It must have been more than an hour later when James awoke to find Sparrow still curled into him, asleep. He did not want to disturb him, but he also did not want them both to wake up the next morning with their backs stiff from sleeping on the floor. His hands tightened on James’s coat as James tried to move away, and he stroked his hair again before lifting him up in his arms.
‘Sshh. It’s all right, Jack. We’re just going to go to bed.’
James shifted Jack’s warm weight in his arms to get a better grip, and he murmured something inaudible as he pressed his face into James’s neck. James deposited him safely in bed and blew out the candle before slipping in beside him and pulling the covers up around them both. Looking back on that night, he wondered why it did not occur to him to put Sparrow to bed and return to his own room. Perhaps it was that James had already begun to feel for him something that he had never felt for another person before then. Perhaps it was because he needed Jack next to him that night just as much as Jack needed him.