Anything Goes Meme Vc

[esteven]

The Crack House, part 3

Stephen rose to leave the cabin. To his surprise, he found Jack standing right next to him, beaming down from his bright flushed face. Jack lifted a hand to cup Stephen's chin, and holding it gently, lowered his head to kiss him. Caught unprepared, unable to think, Stephen found himself responding with great intensity, opening his mouth to let in Jack's questing tongue, bringing his hands to Jack's shoulder and back. After a blissful moment, Stephen noticed an odd lopsided pressure on one side of his chest. Jack was cupping one non-existent breast. "The animal - who does he think I am, to be groping me in this way! I am not some trollopy street-walking strumpety harlot!" While these indignant thoughts warred with more urgent emotions, Stephen heard himself murmuring, "No, no," through the kisses. Jack must have heard him too, for he pulled away. Regret and resignation in his countenance and voice, he stammered out apologies. Stephen did not stay to listen nor reply, but turned and fled.

Jack sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. What had he been thinking? She was his guest; an officer's wife. Just because he had dreamed - it had been a dream, surely - she had not really been kissing him that evening when Killick came in... But he had not been dreaming just now, and she had responded to his kiss, she had returned his embrace, she had opened up under him - no, just as she had said, it could not be. They had been spending too much time together, too isolated on this ship. Under any other circumstances, the idea of a relationship between them would be absurd. The simple fact was that she was apart from her husband, her friends and family; and he was apart from - well, he was always set apart from everyone, anyway. No wonder he had reached out to her for companionship. Lord knew, life in the Navy had created even stranger bedfellows, but he needed to demonstrate better discipline, have more self-control. No more dining together, no more evening duets. No more duets... "Oh God," he said. He didn't think he could bear that loss a second time.
***
Late in the middle watch, a short, piercing shriek was heard from the forecastle. All attention was directed forward, where the taller of the Winchester brothers was soon discovered in a dead faint.

The shorter brother slipped over the taffrail, unseen, dropping down to the stern gallery.

The shriek, which was not a normal-working-of-the-ship noise, roused the Captain, who was half-way up the companion-way ladder in his nightshirt before fully awake.

The shriek did not wake Stephen, who had convinced the ship's surgeon to prescribe him laudanum for a recurring headache with insomnia, without undergoing the usual complete physical examination first.

The entrance of an intruder likewise did not cause him even to stir.
***
Upon learning the story from the startled landsman - the typical "saw them staring glowing eyes, felt a cold ghostly hand reach out for me" - the Captain returned back to his cabin. On his way he was intercepted by an unusually anxious Killick. "Sir, the lady's not in 'er cabin."

"What do you mean?" demanded the Captain. "How do you know? She's most likely asleep."

"Well, sir, after I heard that howling noise, I was afraid for her. Thought it might have been her a-screaming. Or that she might be worried, like. So I knocks on her door, sir, but no answer. I knocks really loud and calls out, but still no answer. So finally I opens the door just to take a quick peek, sir - but her cabin's all a-hoo, and she's not in it!"

The Captain looked suspicious during the recitation of Killick's story, but turned to the Marine sentry. "Did you see Lady Clonfert leave her quarters?" The guard was so placed to see anyone leave or enter either the Captain's or Lady Clonfert's cabins.

"No, sir. When I came on watch, report was you were both in your sleeping cabins."

Jack nodded. And he had passed the Marine, alert and in proper position, on his own way to investigate the scream.

"Pass the word for your officer. Killick, we will check again to be certain before we raise an alarm."

The lady was indeed not in her sleeping cabin, nor in her half of the great cabin. Jack had no expectation of finding her in any of his cabins either, but looked through them to be certain. Having verified that she was not taking air on the quarterdeck, nor seeking assistance in the sickbay, Jack instructed the Captain of the Marines to begin a thorough search of the ship.
***
After the officers had - finally - left the stern cabin, Dean hauled his now-awake and infuriated prisoner from under the stern gallery where he had been hiding them. Dean was now quite thankful for the last two months of training in how to tie knots - useful knots that would hold under any circumstances; and how to tie knots under any circumstances, even one-handed, maybe just using your mouth; and knots for any circumstances, such as quickly binding a potentially dangerous possibly demon-possessed woman, or securing her and himself to the sloping underside of a slightly overhanging stern gallery.

Now more comfortably established back in the lady's side of the great cabin (Sam was right, dammit, last place they'll search again), Dean was profuse in his apologies to his bound and gagged captive. "It's my brother who's convinced you're our demon-possessed ghostly vampire. He's also convinced, by the way, that you're - uh, well, we don't need to go into all that now. But we're pretty sure it's just a routine demon possession, and we'll have you right as rain in no time. I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable without a demon with a vampire fetish in your head, don't you agree?" Dean smiled his most charming, but received only a reptilian glare in response. Dean was unfazed, used to much worse from victims of demon-possession, and continued with his preparations. "And if we're wrong, no harm done. The ritual has no effects, side or otherwise, on the non-demon possessed. We'll just apologize for the inconvenience, treat any rope burns, and, uh, throw ourselves on your, uh, mercy? about not, uh, telling the Captain what we've done; 'cause likely they'll hang us for it, seeing as they pretty much hang you if you so much as look cross-eyed at the wrong person." The last bits of this speech were uttered in a lower and lower voice. "God dammit, Sam," he muttered under his breath, "you had damn well better be right about this."

Preparations complete, Dean began the incantations. Stephen had not recognized the various talismans, nor the need for salt, but he did recognize the prayers. He calmed down somewhat. During Dean's speech he realized that the fool at least intended no harm, but since he had no idea what idiocy the man was going to attempt he had not been much reassured. However, unless the American bishops had gone seriously astray, he could not believe this man was an ordained priest, and severely doubted that his attempt at an exorcism would work. He hoped it would be limited to just the prayers, in which case it would at least do no harm.

Dean, of course, had no doubt in his ability to perform an exorcism, having been successful on countless occasions already, often in much more difficult situations. As it was, about halfway through the ritual both men received a shock.

Inside his head Dean heard laughter, a deep booming voice ridiculing the notion that Christian prayers could have any effect on him. "Holy Jesus fucking Christ," thought Dean, "Sam's the one who hears voices and sees shit, not me!" Other than that, Dean thought it a pretty paltry effort on the part of the demon. He'd heard and seen at lot more intimidating and persuasive arguments than that. Faltering a bit at the surprise of it, Dean nevertheless continued as strong as ever.

Stephen was also shocked, both at the realization that Lord Voldemort had been possessing him, and that the incantations were obviously affecting him, at least in rousing him enough to make his presence known. Possibly Voldemort was correct that a Catholic exorcism would not force his expulsion from Stephen's body. But what the Dark Lord did not know was that he and Stephen were not alone in the doctor's body. Stephen now brought his Rinion self to the fore. Rinion was trained in the same arts of wizardry as Voldemort, of the same House, but more importantly, was an Edhel of both the Noldor and the Sindar and possessed power and skills of which Voldemort knew nothing.

The battle was brief but intense. Dean's rhythmic chanting gave comfort to Stephen and lent him strength enough to keep body and soul and sanity together while Rinion fought to expel the dark wizard. Dean's chanting was merely irritating to Voldemort, but annoyingly so. Overwhelming annoying irritation, like a endless constant drone of bees in his head, keeping him from thinking, from concentrating his focus, from forming his words of power. Rinion pushed, and Voldemort fled.

Captain Aubrey did not notice the amorphous gray vapor that flowed over his head through the open door as he burst into the room. He saw Lady Clonfert bound and gagged with a seaman kneeling over her. In one stride he was over the sailor hauling him up with one hand on the neck of the shirt and one on the waist of the trousers and in another stride he was set to fling the man out the window over the gallery into the Atlantic.

The Marine officer and his corporal stepped quickly to his side and smoothly relieved the Captain of the seaman. "Thank you, sir. We'll take him down below and clap him in irons. He'll be sorted out properly at the Cape all right."

Jack, still breathing hard and with a surprisingly vicious look on his naturally good-humored face, said "Yes, Captain. Very well." As they left with their prisoner he knelt to release Lady Clonfert.

Dean could have fought off the Captain and gotten past the two Marines. He could have escaped, he told himself, even from a man who had suddenly appeared even freakishly taller than Sam and certainly twice as broad. But to what purpose? He knew he hadn't done anything wrong; well, not really wrong. He had seen the demon leaving Lady Clonfert, even though he was certain the thick-witted officers hadn't noticed. He hadn't hurt her. Once he struck an officer, though, it would be all up with him. Right or wrong, he'd be hanged. His hopes lay on Lady Clonfert's being grateful she was no longer possessed, and interceding for him.

And besides, even if he had escaped, where would he hide? Where would he run to? He was on a god-damned boat in the middle of the fucking ocean.

And maybe locked up here in the hold they'd let him sleep for longer than four miserable hours.
***
"Lady Clonfert, are you all right?" asked Jack anxiously as he removed the gag.

"Yes, yes, very well, thank you," said Stephen impatiently. He was in fact much touched by Jack's fierceness in coming to his rescue, but had little inclination to show it. He was worn, and exhausted, and nauseated by the ordeal, and mostly just wanted to sleep. However, he forced himself to speak up for the unfortunate American. "My dear Jack," he said, little noticing the endearments he used, "the seaman - he wasn't hurting me. In fact, he was assisting me." This was going to be difficult to explain.

Her use of his Christian name, the endearment, these did not escape Jack's notice. He looked at her, astonished. "He was assisting you? He had you all tied up!"

"I know. He was - we wanted, I felt in need of an - an exorcism," Stephen winced as he said it. This was ridiculous. Absurd. It was lying, and true, and utterly utterly ludicrous.

"An exorcism!" Finished removing the ropes that had bound her, Jack helped her up from the deck to sit in her chair.

"Yes. I've been having terrible dreams." Stephen fingered the cross around his neck. He wore it only at night, when he could tuck it under his loose nightgown. "The ghost the men have been seeing, I became worried..." For the first time Stephen was glad he was disguised as a woman; he could take refuge in female vagueries. "Of course I would have preferred to consult a priest. I expected to wait until we reached the Cape. But the American seaman, he said he - he could help. He knew the right words, that the ritual did not require a priest..."

"You amaze me." But that didn't explain why she was tied up, or why she went missing. Jack was still very suspicious, but he was certainly not going to interrogate her now, while she was clearly still so distraught. "Are you certain you are all right now? Shall I send for the surgeon?"

"No - I am perfectly well," said Stephen, his acerbity returning. "I have no need for the surgeon, nor any medical care."

"Is there anything you need, that I can get for you? Brandy, perhaps?"

"Yes, if you please. Some brandy would go down gratefully right now."

"Killick! Killick there," the Captain gave the steward his instructions. He turned back to Lady Clonfert, who was looking somewhat more composed. "Would you take it in my cabin? The steward can clean up in here meanwhile."

Sipping the brandy, and watching the color return to Lady Clonfert's face, Jack noticed the graceful way her nightgown fell about her lissome figure. Becoming conscious of the intimacy of the silence, Stephen spoke more to break it than out of any desire to provide further explanations. "During an exorcism, the - the demon can sometimes - fight back, so to speak. We thought it best if I were... restrained, during the ritual. I assure you, I was never in any danger. From the seaman. He is an honest fellow, if unorthodox."

"I am very glad to hear that, Lady Clonfert."

"I wish you will not use him too harshly." Stephen stood up to take his leave. "Thank you for the brandy. Good night to you, now."

Bitterly Stephen regarded his now-tidied sleeping cabin, which Killick had taken the opportunity to straighten up as well as her coach.
***
The amorphous gray vapor had passed into the Captain's stern cabin, searching - quickly - for a new home. Before it disintegrated entirely, it drifted down towards a locker. Its last remnants seeped through a case.

The case was surprisingly easy to open from inside. The bow proved flexible and nimble, with its cute little pointed tip working through the gap between lid and case to release the latch. With the case now open, the fiddle had little difficulty seeking its next victim.

Though larger, the other instrument's case opened easily under the bow's practiced tip. The 'cello herself lay inside, quivering slightly. The violin hummed soothingly; the bow whispered gently over the 'cello's strings. The shivers modulated to rhythmic shudders, the 'cello moaning under the increasing pressure from the bow. Now the bow was drawing across both sets of strings, bringing forth a song of sighs from the violin and a deep melody of longing from the 'cello. Her own bow rattled under its latches until released by the clever tip of its companion. The two bows played together across both instruments, releasing unearthly sounds, the inexpressible music of want and desire.
***
On retiring to his cot - again - Stephen expected to wake rested, feeling well - removed of the possession, why would he not? However, he woke feeling more ill than he had the previous night. His head ached in various places, as if damaged in the epic battle between Voldemort and Rinion. He was still nauseated - possibly more so, as he could now remember everything he'd been doing those nights the seamen were attacked. But worst of all, he felt... disintegrated, as if Voldemort had taken away the glue that had held his psyche together. Lady Clonfert could hardly rise from the cot - no, wait, of course he was not Lady Clonfert, he was Rinion, an Eldhe - but why on Middle-Earth would Rinion need to dress as a human woman? Wait, of course he was Stephen Maturin, on a discreet mission - several discreet missions... This was too much. Instead of feeling internally crowded - as if he'd had more than one self; he now believed his various selves could not add up to even one complete person.
***
Upon learning that Lady Clonfert was indisposed this morning, Jack was not inclined to forgiveness towards Winchester. However, the Marine officer was correct; the man would be sorted out at the Cape. Right now Jack had more urgent matters to worry about, like the barometer that was dropping fast. Very fast.

The gale hit early in the forenoon watch, and it hit them hard, sending them almost onto their beam ends. But Captain Aubrey ran a taut ship, and his lieutenants, whatever their faults may be, were at least seamen. Several days of skudding before the wind and riding out cross-seas ensued. Jack had all the pleasures of a Really Good Blow, including being frapped to a stanchion; no coffee nor anything hot; watching the crew pull together in cursing the elements, the fates, and himself; and shouting himself hoarse. The ship's experience was also typical of a gale-strength storm, but less pleasurable: loss of the foretop mast and mizzen mast, springing of several butt-heads, and damage to several of the rotting knees. The sprung butts were repaired as soon as wind and waves allowed; jury masts would be sent up once the wind came down; but little could be done for the knees until they reached a dockyard.

Lady Clonfert continued indisposed, but that was to be expected, in a blow like this, considering she had spent most of the Bay of Biscay ensconced in her cabin under conditions not even quite as bad.

When the wind had calmed from its piercing shriek to a dull roar, the waves no longer threatening to swallow the ship entire, and breaks in the clouds appeared long enough to fix a position, Jack had a scrap of sail set and checked with the surgeon on casualties.

"None dead, sir, thankfully; but a dozen with the usual storm-induced injuries. However, sir, I would like to speak with you about Lady Clonfert."

"Yes? Was she injured?"

"No - at least, not by the storm, that I can tell. In fact, she doesn't even appear sea-sick, as such. We've been able to feed her the portable soup, and she's kept it down." The surgeon, being unimaginative, could not understand how anyone could ingest the vile stuff, let alone keep it down; but it was what the Sick and Hurt Board provided him, and he fed it to his patients. "It's that she's become unresponsive."

Stephen spent the appropriate amounts of time sleeping and waking, but during his waking time he moved very little, did not speak at all, did not even look at the men entering his cabin. He accepted food and water, but did not interact at all. While tending his patient, the surgeon naturally discerned her true sex. He could not imagine why the man was traveling as a female, but it was not his place to discuss nor reveal such facts discovered about a patient during a course of treatment.

Jack was greatly concerned for Lady Clonfert, but there was nothing he could do for her. He turned his attention back to the condition of the ship. The carpenter was beside himself, the poor man literally wringing his hands. "We need to get her to land, sir. Even in this calmer sea she's still making too much water. We need to heave her down." Jack agreed, but they were hundreds of miles away from any land. The Cape was the closest, and their course was already set for it.

The only satisfaction Jack drew from the situation was his ordering of the Winchester fellow to be chained to the pumps, which were being manned every watch.
***
Charlie had been falling and swimming and falling and swimming for what felt like an eternity. His hooves struck something solid - something that did not break, and did not curse. He found himself climbing up onto a beach. He heaved himself out of the water and lay down, sides heaving. At least those little evil demonic candy-colored unicorns were not here...
***
"Land ho! On deck there, land fine on the larboard bow!"

Captain Aubrey was instantly up in the crosstrees with his best glass. Certainly, there was an island, where no island ought to be. He set a course for it while he and the master double-checked their calculations of position.

Double-checked, triple-checked, their position confirmed at noon against both chronometers; against all odds, Captain Aubrey had stumbled upon an unknown island in an area of ocean that had been criss-crossed for centuries and entirely charted.

Not a new volcanic island either - it was fairly covered in green. As Bonden took him over in the barge, he saw the huge old trees growing all about. He looked over at the carpenter, whose mouth was near to drooling with delight at the sight of all that untouched timber. "Sir, look at them huge angled lower limbs! Them'll make perfect knees!"

As the men set to work under their competent officers, Jack wandered about aimlessly for a bit. He thought of Stephen, who'd be delighted at a bit of naturalizing on a newly discovered island; then he thought of Lady Clonfert, who also apparently enjoyed naturalizing. When he returned to the ship for the surveying equipment to set down the island's location, he would inquire about her health. Perhaps a brief visit to land would help?

"Certainly, sir; no harm in trying, in any case," the surgeon replied. "Her condition has not changed. Fortunately she is not worsening, either."

Jack sat by her stretcher in the boat back to the island. He picked up one hand, cold despite the glove and the balmy weather. He chafed her wrists and studied her open but unseeing eyes. He hoped for a response from her - pulling back her hand, a malediction, a glare. But nothing. He sighed and kept her hand clasped.

Stephen was vaguely aware of the surgeon's tending to his physical needs, but could not bring himself to care. Nor even when Jack chafed his wrists nearly raw. Life was too much work, pointless, purposeless. What purpose could there be when he did not even know who he was? There was no longer any "I" in him to desire anything.

He now lay on shore, the still, unmoving shore. He could hear the men working, the officers cheerfully inciting them on with a variety of curses. Above him tree limbs swayed in the gentle breeze. He could hear the call of seabirds; one passed above him. He followed it with his eyes - certainly it was a shearwater, but could it truly be Puffinus pacificus? Not here in the Atlantic, surely. He sat up and looked about him with more interest. Sure, there was a petrel - Pterodroma hypoleuca - that particular species found only in the Sandwich Islands. And the small tern there, that must be a kind of fairy tern (sterna nereis), which ranges far enough, in all conscience, but only in the Pacific and Indian Oceans. The flora, too, looked much more Pacific than southern Atlantic. How long had he been ill? Their journey was to end at the Cape, yes? How did they arrive at a Pacific island?

The Captain noticed Lady Clonfert sitting up and hurried to her side. "Lady Clonfert, so good to see you up again--"

"Yes, yes," Stephen interrupted impatiently. "Jack, how did we come to be in the Pacific? What island are we on?"

"Why, as to what island this is, I do not know precisely; it is not on any of our charts. But I can assure you we are still in the Atlantic - nowhere near the Pacific. We are within a few hundred miles of the Cape, in fact."

"I hesitate to contradict you; I am certain your navigation skills are excellent. However, we most certainly are in the Pacific; much of the flora and fauna here are found only in the Pacific."

"These are some damned odd trees, I grant you that. I can't tell you how they come to be here, but it is just as well for us they are, for now we can effect the repairs we need to complete our journey in relative safety."

"Most curious, most curious," said Stephen, standing up. Jack quickly offered a hand under his elbow and for once Stephen did not disdain it. "I wish to look about a bit, if you will permit me."

"Why certainly, ma'am. The carpenter and his mates will be occupied some time. Will you allow me to accompany you?"

Stephen looked at Jack's open honest face, seeing nothing but his concern there. Light-headed and still weak himself, Stephen nodded his head. "If you please."

Several hours into the thick underbrush, Jack wondered what excuse he could use to lure Lady Clonfert back to the shore. It had never occurred to him that a woman only just risen from a sick-bed could have more stamina than himself. Navigating the alternately sandy and rocky, but always unyielding, forest floor after months at sea left his legs trembling and exhausted. If he'd realized that "looking about a bit" meant a day-long trek, he would have at least brought some water, and perhaps something to eat.

He suddenly caught up with Lady Clonfert, who had collapsed on top of a slight ridge overlooking a small pool in an open clearing of the forest. "Lady Clonfert! Are you all right?"

Stephen couldn't answer. The will had gone again. It had gone soon after he began walking, the mystery solved; regardless of Jack's sextants and chronometers, this was definitely a Pacific island. Instruments may deceive but birds and trees do not. Only inertia had kept him moving until his legs gave out from exhaustion. He sat staring down at the pool; beautiful clear water, but something distinctly wrong...

When Lady Clonfert did not answer but stayed frowning at the pool below, Jack said, "You must be thirsty - shall I fetch us some water, then?" and started down the slope. "Jack, wait," said Stephen with an effort. Jack stopped and turned, surprised. He hadn't missed Lady Clonfert's continued use of his Christian name, every iteration causing his heart to skip a beat.

"The clearing - so odd," Stephen continued as best he could, trying to pull his selves together. "Around the pool, all young, immature plants - so strange."

Jack looked about. It was certainly true - the forest they had been traveling through was filled with old, but healthy, vegetation. All around the pool the older and larger plants abruptly ceased, and only very young sprouts could be seen. However, these sprouts and saplings were dense and lush - likely there was nothing wrong with the water nourishing them. "Yes, well, certainly we could both use a drink, on such a warm day. I will try some first, shall I?" Jack continued down to the pool.

Stephen continued wondering. "Not a fire, that would have left scorch marks on the older standing trees. Not a great tree fallen to create this clearing - no trace of any down or dead wood..." This was the most his mind could accomplish before he fell over, eyes looking out blankly.

At the pool Jack knelt down and scooped the water in his hands for a sip. It tasted wonderful and he instantly felt better, the aches and pains from the bruising received during the gale gone, the exhaustion in his legs evaporated. He took another brief drink then scooped some water for Lady Clonfert.

When he turned and saw her fallen over, he bounded up the rise like a young gazelle. Although unresponsive to his words, she drank down the water he gave her. She started to look better, frown lines smoothing and color returning to her cheeks, but she still would not answer his inquiries. He ran back to the pool for more.

Having taken a quick drink again himself, he returned to Lady Clonfert's side. While he was giving her more of the water, he noticed that his breeches, which had become rather tight during the voyage, had somehow grown suddenly too loose. His coat and waistcoat likewise. "Perhaps this water is not so good after all, if it sucks the meat right off your bones," he thought. He looked down at Lady Clonfert and to his horror he realized she had shrunk. She still looked quite healthy, cheeks smooth and glowing. Her eyes had closed and she seemed peacefully asleep, breathing easily. Her arms and hands were shorter and smaller, underneath the now ridiculously baggy gloves and sleeves. As he lifted her into his arms he could feel her legs also proportionally reduced, as if she were suddenly become a child again. Her head tucked against his shoulder, she breathed a great sigh and snuggled into his arms as he began the hike back to shore.

The surgeon declared her perfectly fit and healthy, for a 10-year-old child. He was skeptical that drinking fresh water from a mysterious pool on a strange island - drinking any kind of water, for that matter - could cause a person to revert to childhood. However, having never heard of such a thing happening under any circumstances at all, he could provide no other explanation either. He advised that everyone remain close to shore, away from the pool.

While the carpenter and his mates continued the repairs, Jack detailed Bonden to look after Lady Clonfert, who upon waking, was no longer inert. Instead she appeared rather overly active, running back and forth along the beach, alternately splashing into the waves and climbing trees, calling out in a variety of languages, some of which sounded not entirely - human.

Stephen still felt his selves split asunder inside him, but instead of leaving him frozen, he now had a restless energy that drove him on under one impulse then another. Apparently his personalities were in battle for control over his activities.

Bonden had as much as he could do simply to keep Lady Clonfert corralled close to shore, and not kill herself. Even offers of food did not entice her, which is what had always worked for every other child Bonden had ever known, including himself. He began to be concerned for her nutrition. "Come, miss, just drink a little of this down. It's quite tasty."

"What is it?" Stephen came over suspiciously.

"Your lime juice, miss. Which it's to keep you from the scurvy--"

"I know what it's for! I'll take it in my grog, like everyone else!"

Bonden was not attending. The corner of his sailor's eye had caught a curious phenomenon descending from the sky. As he stared the figure resolved into a woman, drably dressed much as Lady Clonfert usually was, holding an odd kind of parasol that appeared improbably to be slowing her unsupported drop through the sky from the expected deadly breakneck rate to a sedate pace more suitable to a lady.

"Good day, sir," said the stranger to the astonished seaman. "I am Miss Poppins. You seem to be having some difficulty with your young charge here."

Bonden was perfectly willing to accept at face value an angel sent directly from Heaven itself if she would help him manage the young termagant.

"Yes, ma'am. She needs to drink her lime-juice, which it's for her health, but she refuses!" Bonden held it out to Miss Poppins, as if for her inspection.

"You tell a lie, Barrett Bonden!" said Stephen hotly. "I am perfectly willing to drink it in my grog, like everyone else!"

"But, miss, I can't give grog to a little girl like you!"

"Little--! I am not a girl! You imbecile, I have been drinking stronger spirits than grog since before you was breeched. Take this away and bring me my grog!"

Miss Poppins laughed cheerfully. "My, she certainly has an active imagination! I know just the thing that may help." She started singing, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down--"

Stephen interrupted, "It bloody well does not! I do not need any syrupy sweet stuff! Grog will do fine."

Miss Poppins noticed the number of bird inhabiting the island and flitting about. "I'll bet the little birds would like it. Come, let's feed the little birds." Again she sang: "Come feed the little birds, show them you care and you'll be glad if you do. Their young ones are hungry; their nests are so bare--"

Stephen stared incredulously then scoffed. "These birds are feeding themselves perfectly well without your inane help. Only Trochilidae would drink sugared fruit juice, and there are no bleeding hummingbirds here!"

Suddenly inspired Bonden said, "Look, miss, there! It's... it's a hoopoe!"

Attention caught, Stephen asked, "A hoopoe?! Where?!" With his mouth gaping open as he looked about the sky, Mary Poppins poured down the lime-juice.

Sputtering, Stephen glared at her. "You--you hussy! You meddlesome interfering officious busybody! You nosy intrusive pushy forward trying toublesome minx! Jade!"

Under verbal assault Miss Poppins remained unperturbed. "And she has an extensive and colorful vocabulary too! What a young prodigy you are, to be sure!"

Bonden looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. She's been traveling with us sailors for the past couple months."

"Ah, I see. Then perhaps she would do better if treated like a sailor, with a sailor's responsibilities, and discipline."

Bonden looked skeptical. He could imagine, with difficulty, assigning Lady Clonfert some of the duties of the ship's boys. But as most of the "discipline" consisted of blows to the head and various other parts of the body, he doubted that would be tolerated.

Mary Poppins saw Bonden's doubtful shake of the head and provided another helpful bit of advice: "In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You'll find the fun, and...snap! The job's a game!"

"Snap! The job's a game," she repeated, and with a snap of her fingers her parasol took her wafting back up into the sky.

Bonden stood gaping up at her for a minute, then looked wildly about for whatever mischief Lady Clonfert had got up to now. Fortunately, she hadn't gone too far, just alternately examining then trying to fry an anthill with a small glass. Bonden felt his pockets. "Miss - ah Lady Clonfert, would you care to learn a game we sailors like to play?"

Stephen looked around irritably, then saw the dice Bonden was rolling about his palm. The gambler in him rose to the fore, a gleam entered his eye and he answered smoothly, "Is it a game, now? Sure, if you please."

After sleeping about a dozen years, without once being awoken by any irritating high squeaky voices, Charlie cracked one eye open. He was terribly thirsty and terribly hungry. He saw innocent blue sky over innocent blue sea, with innocent waves washing gently on the innocent sandy beach, an innocent mild breeze stirring the innocent palm leaves above. He opened the other eye, rolled himself up and looked around. No pink or blue unicorns - no unicorns of any color - no one at all around. A stream gurgled from the hilly forest down to the beach and out to the ocean. He walked over, looked carefully again, and very cautiously bent to take a drink. A quick sip and he backed off immediately. Nothing happened. Just waves washing, breeze blowing, stream gurgling. He bent to take a longer drink. A buzzing startled him and he jumped back five feet, but it was just an innocent fly. A swish of the tail flicked it away. He returned to the stream and drank his fill.

No longer thirsty, Charlie waddled along the shore, his belly sloshing with that uncomfortable feeling of several gallons of water in an otherwise empty stomach, hoping to find something to eat. Maybe a cafe, or a grocers, or even a convenience store. A food cart? A vending machine? Anything?
***
After Captain Aubrey confiscated Bonden's dice and set him to hauling timber for the carpenter, he stood hands on hips looking down at Lady Clonfert, who stared defiantly back at him, and wondered how in God's name he was going to explain this to Captain Lord Clonfert. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the tip of a white horn come around the curve of the island along the shore. "It's that damned odd narwhal again!" he cried.

"What?" Stephen looked around.

"A narwhal - a narwhal's horn - tusk rather - but on a creature with legs. Look!" Jack remembered his odd vision of a narwhal treading water years ago while cutting out the Fanciulla, just before his duel with Stephen. He'd never even had a chance to mention the creature to him. And here it was again, years later and on the other side of the ocean.

Charlie had seen them and came trotting up quickly. People meant food, especially the tall healthy-looking full-bodied yellow-haired man.

"A unicorn," breathed Stephen. The Rinion in him knew all about unicorns, and for what they were especially useful. He walked up to meet it.

Charlie obligingly lowered his head to gaze upon the young girl with his eyes as adorably soft as he could make them. She reached up gently to stroke his horn.

As Jack stood staring, astonished beyond words, Lady Clonfert grew. Right back to her old self. Well, not quite her old self - she looked much healthier and happier than Jack had ever seen her. Her cheeks still retained their rosy glow, the frown lines that had seemed etched in her forehead and mouth were erased, the forward hunched stoop of her posture relaxed and lightened.

She turned towards him smiling. "The touch from the horn of a unicorn has the power to heal any illness or injury." Stephen himself was almost overwhelmed with happiness, a condition he'd rarely experienced before. Although pleased to be restored to his proper age (he had not looked forward to experiencing the throes of puberty again), feeling himself united inside once again engendered a wonderful sense of relief mingled with joy.

Jack's mind had wrapped around the idea that a unicorn could possibly exist - certainly not all the lands of the world had been thoroughly explored. But his amazement at Lady Clonfert's regrowth still took him aback. His mind was just forming the words, "Now I won't have to explain anything to Clonfert--!" when yet another figure stepped from the forest.

"Ah, my dear Rinion, excellent work! I knew I had chosen the right man for the job." This figure was at least human, and he spoke English. How he had come to be on this previously unknown island in the South Atlantic was a mystery that did not even make the short trip across Jack's mind. The man was fixing a halter over the unicorn's head, which was allowing it, albeit reluctantly.

"Do you have anything to eat?" whined Charlie as The Doctor led him away.

"Oh yes, of course," said The Doctor, rummaging in his pockets. "Here you are." He held out a couple sugar cubes and an apple, which Charlie snatched up instantly.

"Thanks," he said, a little wetly. "I was hoping for maybe a hamburger? With fries? A milkshake?"

"Oh, ah, let's see what we have back at TARDIS, shall we?"

A talking unicorn proved too much for Jack, but the odd man was leading it away into the forest, where they both vanished from sight. No longer a problem, then. And Lady Clonfert was back in her rightful shape, so also no longer a problem. He could now forget all the ridiculously absurd things that had happened here. Except for the sudden appearance of this island at all, but that wasn't strictly impossible...

Something the man had said suddenly struck Jack. "Beg pardon, Lady Clonfert, are you acquainted with that gentleman?"

Stephen hesitated, "Yes, a little. Perhaps not well enough for introductions."

"Oh no, not at all. Clearly he just came for - for his unicorn. I thought I heard him address you as Rinion?"

"Yes, I believe he did."

"Then you are not Lady Clonfert?" cried Jack.

"I am not."

"And you are not married?"

"No, my dear, I am not."

"Then will you marry me?" Jack blushed at the sudden baldness of his proposal.

Stephen looked up at Jack, into his ridiculously blue eyes, the red flush climbing his face intensifying the blue. In all the universes, in all the forms he had known Jack, always the same ridiculous blue eyes. But Stephen had no more time to contemplate the absurdity of it, for from his own lips he heard himself say, "Yes, Jack, I will."

He had the pleasure of watching the blue deepen as Jack's eyes crinkled to slits under the force of his smile. Then Jack's mouth descended upon his and they were kissing.

Some time later: "You do understand, joy, that I am not a woman."

Jack smiled. "Yes, Stephen, I know you are not. I do not know why you choose to go about dressed as a lady. I do know that I love you dearly, and I wish to be with you always."

Unfortunately for Jack he was wrong about the odd man being gone, for now here he was returning, although at least without his unicorn.

"Well, Dr. Maturin, or Rinion I should say, TARDIS is ready to take you back home."

At these words Stephen felt the same dismay that he saw on Jack's face. A coldness gripped his heart. His selves - Rinion and Stephen - had integrated so well. He no longer felt that same sense of emptiness, or incompleteness that had plagued him all his life: that Stephen had attributed to his bastardy and Rinion to his mixed heritage. He felt whole. And then Jack - at that thought his dismay gave way to an indescribable sadness. He could see his friend preparing to say goodbye. He could not bear the thought. "No, thank you, I believe I - we - will stay here, as I am. I have an - an engagement still to keep," he smiled at Jack. "A most pressing engagement, which I expect will last a lifetime. Or two."
***
For the wedding Captain Aubrey was magnificent in his full dress uniform, complete with his Nile medal, one-hundred-guinea presentation sword, and the chelengk glinting from his number one scraper. Stephen's eyes were transfixed by the central glowing gem. "Ain't it a pretty bauble?" said Jack, working the mechanism that turned the diamond aigrette. "The Sultan of Turkey gave it to me for knocking a rebel of his on the head."

"Sure, it is the beauty of the world," said Stephen. "May I examine it?" Jack unfastened it from his hat and passed it over.

"Pure light itself, for all love," Stephen murmured to himself, as he viewed the Silmaril in the palm of his hand.

***The End***

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