Advent Calendar 2015 - Day 22 - Fic
Title: Walking Not Saving
Author: takadainmate
Rating: General
Words: 878
Summary: Mostly walking. Always surviving.
.Walking Not Saving.
Jack had seen Stephen hurt before; shot and half-drowned and tortured and sick with fever. For all that, Jack never got used to seeing it.
He had carried Stephen before, almost dead once, and then as all the other times for the most part silent, never complaining or perhaps just too exhausted to. Jack knew that feeling.
This though was something different.
Jack had heard Stephen pour out every hidden thought, every grievance and private desire in his fevered dreams. But this quiet confusion was beyond Jack’s comprehension.
“Jack, my dear Jack,” Stephen said, and his words were slurred, tripping together as though he’d forgotten where one ended and the other began. Jack could feel him scratching at his neck. His nails were too long. “I think we should do this more often.”
“No, no. I can’t agree,” Jack said. His feet felt too big for his boots, the souls wearing down to nothing.
“We’re hardly ever alone, though,” Stephen lamented. “There’s always Killick or something wrong with the poor ship or the direction of the wind or… or some such.”
Jack sighed. It had been like this for some time. His legs ached terribly, unused to land; unused to viciously sharp rocks that cut through his stockings when he stumbled. He stumbled again and Stephen hissed out a breath.
Jack straightened himself; got a better grip on Stephen, careful not to jar his legs any further than he had to.
“I am sorry, Stephen. I’m certain it’s not much further,” Jack lied, and felt terrible for it.
“My leg is broken,” Stephen said, as though just realising it.
“Yes.” Jack walked. He walked as quickly as he could. It was twilight and there was a mist in the air; rain and wind in the near future and they were exposed.
“Do you remember how it happened?” Jack tried. He’d asked the question before and Stephen had never been able to answer. There was bruising on the side of Stephen’s face too that looked cruel, and Stephen had never been able to remember that either.
There was a long pause; long enough that Jack felt his gut tighten. He preferred the confusion to the silence.
Then Stephen said, “I only remember you. It was morning.”
Dawn, when Jack had found Stephen and hadn’t stopped since. He wasn’t even entirely sure where he was heading; only east and to the sea. There he could find his way.
“I don’t believe I’m entirely well, Jack,” Stephen said.
“You’re not,” Jack agreed. “But we’ll be back to the old Surprise in no time. You may say it’s too noisy but it’s a damn sight safer than any place on land you care to name.”
After today, after the last three days of searching, Jack was of a mind to never let Stephen off the ship ever again without an escort. Perhaps an armed guard.
“That island,” Stephen said.
“What island?”
“The one with the tortoise.” Stephen paused, then, miserably, “It was warm there.”
There had been many islands, and with Stephen many tortoises, and Jack didn’t have Stephen’s memory for all things, especially now. It was turning cold, the temperature falling with the sun, and Jack could feel Stephen tremble against his shoulder where he carried him. He wasn’t heavy, Jack knew this, but after so many hours he might as well have been an anvil.
“It will be warm on the ship,” Jack promised.
It would be days until they got that far but they would survive this, as they’d survived everything else together. Of this Jack was certain.
He walked.
There was an old pathway cutting across the rocky landscape that he followed. There was little enough that he would see anyone coming towards them from miles away. But the path was crumbling; disused.
Soon there was only half-light. The air was filled with fine rain. Jack had nothing to shield Stephen from it and nothing to light their way so he pressed on, listening for the sounds of the ocean, listening to Stephen talk of the birds he could see, though there were none, until he was mostly silent too.
“You should take rest, Jack,” Stephen said quietly, even with his mouth so close to Jack’s ear. “I know I’m always saying you should exercise more; another ten laps; but you should rest.”
“It’s not been long at all,” Jack reassured him, even as his throat felt dry enough that speaking was uncomfortable. Even though his stomach ached at the thought of food. His head swam. But Stephen could only feel worse.
There was nowhere to stop.
“Do you think we’ll go on forever then?” Stephen asked. “I, a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of Captain Jack Aubrey; Jack, in search of his favourite ship.”
His ship and safety and warmth.
“And a glass of port at the end of it.” Jack thought deserved that much.
“Yes,” Stephen agreed. He patted Jack’s chest. “Perhaps even two.”
And Jack walked and walked as the day ended and the rain finally began to pour, ice cold water finding its way down the back of his shirt, and Stephen kept his hand on Jack’s chest and yes, Jack was certain that if he had to he would go on forever.
.End.
I'm grateful to miki_moo for allowing me to selfishly steal one of her days. How could I go a year without writing something for this wonderful community?
A great holiday to all!
Author: takadainmate
Rating: General
Words: 878
Summary: Mostly walking. Always surviving.
.Walking Not Saving.
Jack had seen Stephen hurt before; shot and half-drowned and tortured and sick with fever. For all that, Jack never got used to seeing it.
He had carried Stephen before, almost dead once, and then as all the other times for the most part silent, never complaining or perhaps just too exhausted to. Jack knew that feeling.
This though was something different.
Jack had heard Stephen pour out every hidden thought, every grievance and private desire in his fevered dreams. But this quiet confusion was beyond Jack’s comprehension.
“Jack, my dear Jack,” Stephen said, and his words were slurred, tripping together as though he’d forgotten where one ended and the other began. Jack could feel him scratching at his neck. His nails were too long. “I think we should do this more often.”
“No, no. I can’t agree,” Jack said. His feet felt too big for his boots, the souls wearing down to nothing.
“We’re hardly ever alone, though,” Stephen lamented. “There’s always Killick or something wrong with the poor ship or the direction of the wind or… or some such.”
Jack sighed. It had been like this for some time. His legs ached terribly, unused to land; unused to viciously sharp rocks that cut through his stockings when he stumbled. He stumbled again and Stephen hissed out a breath.
Jack straightened himself; got a better grip on Stephen, careful not to jar his legs any further than he had to.
“I am sorry, Stephen. I’m certain it’s not much further,” Jack lied, and felt terrible for it.
“My leg is broken,” Stephen said, as though just realising it.
“Yes.” Jack walked. He walked as quickly as he could. It was twilight and there was a mist in the air; rain and wind in the near future and they were exposed.
“Do you remember how it happened?” Jack tried. He’d asked the question before and Stephen had never been able to answer. There was bruising on the side of Stephen’s face too that looked cruel, and Stephen had never been able to remember that either.
There was a long pause; long enough that Jack felt his gut tighten. He preferred the confusion to the silence.
Then Stephen said, “I only remember you. It was morning.”
Dawn, when Jack had found Stephen and hadn’t stopped since. He wasn’t even entirely sure where he was heading; only east and to the sea. There he could find his way.
“I don’t believe I’m entirely well, Jack,” Stephen said.
“You’re not,” Jack agreed. “But we’ll be back to the old Surprise in no time. You may say it’s too noisy but it’s a damn sight safer than any place on land you care to name.”
After today, after the last three days of searching, Jack was of a mind to never let Stephen off the ship ever again without an escort. Perhaps an armed guard.
“That island,” Stephen said.
“What island?”
“The one with the tortoise.” Stephen paused, then, miserably, “It was warm there.”
There had been many islands, and with Stephen many tortoises, and Jack didn’t have Stephen’s memory for all things, especially now. It was turning cold, the temperature falling with the sun, and Jack could feel Stephen tremble against his shoulder where he carried him. He wasn’t heavy, Jack knew this, but after so many hours he might as well have been an anvil.
“It will be warm on the ship,” Jack promised.
It would be days until they got that far but they would survive this, as they’d survived everything else together. Of this Jack was certain.
He walked.
There was an old pathway cutting across the rocky landscape that he followed. There was little enough that he would see anyone coming towards them from miles away. But the path was crumbling; disused.
Soon there was only half-light. The air was filled with fine rain. Jack had nothing to shield Stephen from it and nothing to light their way so he pressed on, listening for the sounds of the ocean, listening to Stephen talk of the birds he could see, though there were none, until he was mostly silent too.
“You should take rest, Jack,” Stephen said quietly, even with his mouth so close to Jack’s ear. “I know I’m always saying you should exercise more; another ten laps; but you should rest.”
“It’s not been long at all,” Jack reassured him, even as his throat felt dry enough that speaking was uncomfortable. Even though his stomach ached at the thought of food. His head swam. But Stephen could only feel worse.
There was nowhere to stop.
“Do you think we’ll go on forever then?” Stephen asked. “I, a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of Captain Jack Aubrey; Jack, in search of his favourite ship.”
His ship and safety and warmth.
“And a glass of port at the end of it.” Jack thought deserved that much.
“Yes,” Stephen agreed. He patted Jack’s chest. “Perhaps even two.”
And Jack walked and walked as the day ended and the rain finally began to pour, ice cold water finding its way down the back of his shirt, and Stephen kept his hand on Jack’s chest and yes, Jack was certain that if he had to he would go on forever.
.End.
I'm grateful to miki_moo for allowing me to selfishly steal one of her days. How could I go a year without writing something for this wonderful community?
A great holiday to all!