[Fic] Just a Little Lightning
Title: Just a Little Lightning
Author: Shytan
Rating: PG
Characters: Lord Beckett, Lieutenant Groves, Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann, Mercer
Summary: A violent storm wreaks havoc with the Endeavour's crew.
Warnings: Someone had a bit too much milk O.o
"It's just a little lightning," Governor Swann said kindly as Commodore Norrington shied away from the window in fright. The HMS Endeavour shuddered slightly as the sky rumbled in displeasure. The waves were starting to get choppy, and the time between the strikes of lightning and claps of thunder was edging closer and closer as the storm made its slow approach towards the vessel. Sighing in mild frustration, Lord Beckett put his paperwork aside, no longer able to keep his hands steady or his mind on the rather menial tasks. After seeing that his own hands had slipped and delivered a harsh black line across the middle of his work, Weatherby Swann also put his papers aside.
James Norrington paced to the other side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between him and the window. Like the much calmer Lieutenant Groves who was now beside him, he had no obligation to stay in Lord Beckett's office, however the thought of navigating the relatively narrow hallway while the ship shuddered and rocked as it was bombarded with increasingly large waves was not entirely pleasant. At least he would not have to head up onto the rain-soaked deck. James tried not to fidget, as the last thing he wanted would be to be sent out, and since it appeared that Lord Beckett was no longer working, drawing attention to himself would not be ideal.
Although James was now standing quietly beside Groves, his relocation from beside the window to a spot near the door drew the attention of Cutler Beckett, who made eye contact with him briefly before turning to speak quietly with Mercer. The clerk nodded his head briefly, then headed to the window and drew the blinds. Satisfied, Cutler leant back in his chair, but quickly braced his hands against the wooden desk when the Endeavour pitched forwards. James leant back against the wall to prevent him from falling over, grunting slightly as Theodore accidentally shouldered him. Mercer was able to keep on his feet just fine, but Weatherby Swann toppled right off his chair.
"Oh dear, I do believe the wind has picked up a bit," the slightly muffled voice of the Governor came from below his desk as he began to struggle to his feet.
"So it appears," James agreed with a grimace, straightening himself and glancing about the room in search of a safer place to stand. Perhaps the corner behind Governor Swann's desk? The ship lurched again, promptly depositing the freshly seated Governor back onto the floor.
"Perhaps I ought to stay down here," Weatherby mused.
"That's not a bad thought," James said as he picked himself up off the ground and quickly headed to the corner of the room to seat himself properly before the next large wave hit.
Abandoned by the Commodore, Theodore crawled over to the opposite corner near Lord Beckett's desk, rather impressed that Cutler had managed to stay at least partially seated. The next wave sent Beckett off his chair and onto his knees, but he clung on to the edge of his desk to prevent him from falling over completely. Unwilling to topple over, Mercer had also taken to the floor, bracing himself against the nearest wall.
"Looks like we're in for a bit of a wild ride," Weatherby said to James with a light smile, although he winced when the next clap of thunder hit rather unexpectantly.
"Indeed," the Commodore replied as he shifted to make room for the Governor. He glanced over at the other side of the room, where Theodore was huddled in the corner next to Cutler, who had since abandoned his desk.
The Endeavour rocked and lurched, enduring the storm rather admirably, moreso than its occupants. James could not help flinching every time a clap of thunder boomed above the ship, and was rather annoyed with himself for it. Weatherby had his hands on his wig, pressing it into his ears in an attempt at drowning out the noise. Theodore was finding it hard to stay in one spot, cringing slightly when his head bumped against the wall. He glanced at Cutler beside him, who was looking a bit paler than usual. Wrapping his arms around himself, Cutler swallowed a few times, grimacing as his stomach lurched with the ship. The only one apparently unphased by the storm was Mercer, who leant against the wall with an irritatingly bored expression on his face.
Pitching back and forth at seemingly random intervals, the Endeavour braved the harsh weather. Just when the ship seemed to be steadying slightly, it suddenly shuddered and the lights flickered briefly before going out.
"Oh bother," Weatherby said.
"I don't suppose there's a lamp nearby," James asked.
"There might be one in the other room," Weatherby replied vaguely with a wave of his hand, accidentally hitting James in the face. "Oh, dreadfully sorry."
The room was pitch black. The thick blinds prevented the flashes of lightning from illuminating the room, leaving its occupants in almost total darkness. Theodore brought his hands to his face in an attempt to see them, but his eyes were unable to adjust, and the lurching ship sent them straight into his face. He blushed slightly as he lowered his hands, then realised that nobody would have seen the rather embarassing display, not even Cutler who sat beside him. Theodore frowned in concern as he felt the Lord lean a fair amount of weight on him. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but finally the Lieutenant was able to see himself and the man beside him, although he could see little else. Cutler was resting his head on Theodore's shoulder, and was breathing rather heavily. The rhythmic sound was all he could hear apart from the occasional clashing of thunder and the creaking wood of the ship.
A few dark, relatively quiet minutes when by, and Theodore was just starting to relax when he heard Cutler's breathing hitch, and turned to see the Lord with his hand over his mouth. Wrapping one arm around the Lord, Theodore pushed him forwards towards where he thought the desk might have been, and frantically groped around in the dark for the waste paper bin that he hoped would be under there. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hands met the rounded wood of the small bin, which was thankfully empty, and he quickly pushed it in front of Cutler, who was now huddled under the desk beside the Lieutenant. Gratefully accepting the bucket, Cutler placed it on his lap and tried to regulate his breathing.
"Five days it last, five days," Weatherby whispered to James, who nodded in an attempt to appear interested, although he was not quite sure the Governor could see him. Sighing softly, James continued to listen to Weatherby's recount of a horrendous storm that he had endured aboard the HMS Dauntless. At least it was something to do, the Commodore mused. It was going to be a long night, and it seemed unlikely the lights would be returning. They'd probably fallen over anyway, James thought with a slightly chuckle, which apparently occurred at an appropriate moment in the Governor's story because Weatherby chuckled with him. James smiled at the older man, and idly wondered what the other occupants of the room were up to.
Mercer had fallen into a light sleep somehow, not bothered by the rumbling thunder or the rocking ship. Theodore was attempting to doze, but the shuddering ship was keeping him awake. The thunder was still loud, although less so than before. He put his arm gently around Cutler as the ship pitched forwards and the Lord finally emptied his stomach contents into the bucket, hoping nobody else in the room could hear it. He silently wished he hadn't consumed so much milk after dinner, it didn't always settle well and the lurching ship had easily unsettled him. Swallowing a mixture of second hand milk, dinner and pride, Cutler huddled up against his Lieutenant, resting his head on Theodore's shoulder and attempted to fall asleep.
Somewhere towards the end of Weatherby's story, James had fallen asleep. He awoke with a face full of wig, and leapt up to his feet with a start and a little shout. The noise roused Governor Swann, who promptly fell over as he had been leaning against the Commodore, who was suddenly no longer there. Stumbling to his feet, he looked towards the window where Mercer was standing. The clerk had just awoken, and had opened the blinds, which was apparently enough to wake James. Theodore and Cutler were nowhere to be seen, although as James headed towards the door, he noticed the foot sticking out from under the desk.
"Perhaps you ought to see how the ship fared?" James suggested to Weatherby.
"Good idea," the Governor replied with a nod, exiting the room with Mercer who was eager to inspect the ship for damage.
Dropping to his hands and knees, James peered under Lord Beckett's desk and found the missing pair huddled up together. He grimaced slightly at the waste bin, which had thankfully not toppled over during the night. James carefully took the bin and headed out of the room, leaving the sleeping pair alone.
"Commodore Norrington! How did you fare during the storm?" Lieutenant Greitzer stopped James on the way back to his quarters.
"Rather well actually. It was just a little lightning," James replied with a wink. "Oh, could you return this to Lord Beckett's office?"
"Certainly!" the Lieutenant replied, accepting the now empty waste bin. He waved briefly as James left, then looked down at the bin in confusion. "What on earth was the Commodore doing with this?" he mumbled to himself. Shrugging, he headed towards Lord Beckett's office, smiling slightly as he heard James whistling an upbeat tune.
Author: Shytan
Rating: PG
Characters: Lord Beckett, Lieutenant Groves, Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann, Mercer
Summary: A violent storm wreaks havoc with the Endeavour's crew.
Warnings: Someone had a bit too much milk O.o
"It's just a little lightning," Governor Swann said kindly as Commodore Norrington shied away from the window in fright. The HMS Endeavour shuddered slightly as the sky rumbled in displeasure. The waves were starting to get choppy, and the time between the strikes of lightning and claps of thunder was edging closer and closer as the storm made its slow approach towards the vessel. Sighing in mild frustration, Lord Beckett put his paperwork aside, no longer able to keep his hands steady or his mind on the rather menial tasks. After seeing that his own hands had slipped and delivered a harsh black line across the middle of his work, Weatherby Swann also put his papers aside.
James Norrington paced to the other side of the room, putting as much distance as possible between him and the window. Like the much calmer Lieutenant Groves who was now beside him, he had no obligation to stay in Lord Beckett's office, however the thought of navigating the relatively narrow hallway while the ship shuddered and rocked as it was bombarded with increasingly large waves was not entirely pleasant. At least he would not have to head up onto the rain-soaked deck. James tried not to fidget, as the last thing he wanted would be to be sent out, and since it appeared that Lord Beckett was no longer working, drawing attention to himself would not be ideal.
Although James was now standing quietly beside Groves, his relocation from beside the window to a spot near the door drew the attention of Cutler Beckett, who made eye contact with him briefly before turning to speak quietly with Mercer. The clerk nodded his head briefly, then headed to the window and drew the blinds. Satisfied, Cutler leant back in his chair, but quickly braced his hands against the wooden desk when the Endeavour pitched forwards. James leant back against the wall to prevent him from falling over, grunting slightly as Theodore accidentally shouldered him. Mercer was able to keep on his feet just fine, but Weatherby Swann toppled right off his chair.
"Oh dear, I do believe the wind has picked up a bit," the slightly muffled voice of the Governor came from below his desk as he began to struggle to his feet.
"So it appears," James agreed with a grimace, straightening himself and glancing about the room in search of a safer place to stand. Perhaps the corner behind Governor Swann's desk? The ship lurched again, promptly depositing the freshly seated Governor back onto the floor.
"Perhaps I ought to stay down here," Weatherby mused.
"That's not a bad thought," James said as he picked himself up off the ground and quickly headed to the corner of the room to seat himself properly before the next large wave hit.
Abandoned by the Commodore, Theodore crawled over to the opposite corner near Lord Beckett's desk, rather impressed that Cutler had managed to stay at least partially seated. The next wave sent Beckett off his chair and onto his knees, but he clung on to the edge of his desk to prevent him from falling over completely. Unwilling to topple over, Mercer had also taken to the floor, bracing himself against the nearest wall.
"Looks like we're in for a bit of a wild ride," Weatherby said to James with a light smile, although he winced when the next clap of thunder hit rather unexpectantly.
"Indeed," the Commodore replied as he shifted to make room for the Governor. He glanced over at the other side of the room, where Theodore was huddled in the corner next to Cutler, who had since abandoned his desk.
The Endeavour rocked and lurched, enduring the storm rather admirably, moreso than its occupants. James could not help flinching every time a clap of thunder boomed above the ship, and was rather annoyed with himself for it. Weatherby had his hands on his wig, pressing it into his ears in an attempt at drowning out the noise. Theodore was finding it hard to stay in one spot, cringing slightly when his head bumped against the wall. He glanced at Cutler beside him, who was looking a bit paler than usual. Wrapping his arms around himself, Cutler swallowed a few times, grimacing as his stomach lurched with the ship. The only one apparently unphased by the storm was Mercer, who leant against the wall with an irritatingly bored expression on his face.
Pitching back and forth at seemingly random intervals, the Endeavour braved the harsh weather. Just when the ship seemed to be steadying slightly, it suddenly shuddered and the lights flickered briefly before going out.
"Oh bother," Weatherby said.
"I don't suppose there's a lamp nearby," James asked.
"There might be one in the other room," Weatherby replied vaguely with a wave of his hand, accidentally hitting James in the face. "Oh, dreadfully sorry."
The room was pitch black. The thick blinds prevented the flashes of lightning from illuminating the room, leaving its occupants in almost total darkness. Theodore brought his hands to his face in an attempt to see them, but his eyes were unable to adjust, and the lurching ship sent them straight into his face. He blushed slightly as he lowered his hands, then realised that nobody would have seen the rather embarassing display, not even Cutler who sat beside him. Theodore frowned in concern as he felt the Lord lean a fair amount of weight on him. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but finally the Lieutenant was able to see himself and the man beside him, although he could see little else. Cutler was resting his head on Theodore's shoulder, and was breathing rather heavily. The rhythmic sound was all he could hear apart from the occasional clashing of thunder and the creaking wood of the ship.
A few dark, relatively quiet minutes when by, and Theodore was just starting to relax when he heard Cutler's breathing hitch, and turned to see the Lord with his hand over his mouth. Wrapping one arm around the Lord, Theodore pushed him forwards towards where he thought the desk might have been, and frantically groped around in the dark for the waste paper bin that he hoped would be under there. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hands met the rounded wood of the small bin, which was thankfully empty, and he quickly pushed it in front of Cutler, who was now huddled under the desk beside the Lieutenant. Gratefully accepting the bucket, Cutler placed it on his lap and tried to regulate his breathing.
"Five days it last, five days," Weatherby whispered to James, who nodded in an attempt to appear interested, although he was not quite sure the Governor could see him. Sighing softly, James continued to listen to Weatherby's recount of a horrendous storm that he had endured aboard the HMS Dauntless. At least it was something to do, the Commodore mused. It was going to be a long night, and it seemed unlikely the lights would be returning. They'd probably fallen over anyway, James thought with a slightly chuckle, which apparently occurred at an appropriate moment in the Governor's story because Weatherby chuckled with him. James smiled at the older man, and idly wondered what the other occupants of the room were up to.
Mercer had fallen into a light sleep somehow, not bothered by the rumbling thunder or the rocking ship. Theodore was attempting to doze, but the shuddering ship was keeping him awake. The thunder was still loud, although less so than before. He put his arm gently around Cutler as the ship pitched forwards and the Lord finally emptied his stomach contents into the bucket, hoping nobody else in the room could hear it. He silently wished he hadn't consumed so much milk after dinner, it didn't always settle well and the lurching ship had easily unsettled him. Swallowing a mixture of second hand milk, dinner and pride, Cutler huddled up against his Lieutenant, resting his head on Theodore's shoulder and attempted to fall asleep.
Somewhere towards the end of Weatherby's story, James had fallen asleep. He awoke with a face full of wig, and leapt up to his feet with a start and a little shout. The noise roused Governor Swann, who promptly fell over as he had been leaning against the Commodore, who was suddenly no longer there. Stumbling to his feet, he looked towards the window where Mercer was standing. The clerk had just awoken, and had opened the blinds, which was apparently enough to wake James. Theodore and Cutler were nowhere to be seen, although as James headed towards the door, he noticed the foot sticking out from under the desk.
"Perhaps you ought to see how the ship fared?" James suggested to Weatherby.
"Good idea," the Governor replied with a nod, exiting the room with Mercer who was eager to inspect the ship for damage.
Dropping to his hands and knees, James peered under Lord Beckett's desk and found the missing pair huddled up together. He grimaced slightly at the waste bin, which had thankfully not toppled over during the night. James carefully took the bin and headed out of the room, leaving the sleeping pair alone.
"Commodore Norrington! How did you fare during the storm?" Lieutenant Greitzer stopped James on the way back to his quarters.
"Rather well actually. It was just a little lightning," James replied with a wink. "Oh, could you return this to Lord Beckett's office?"
"Certainly!" the Lieutenant replied, accepting the now empty waste bin. He waved briefly as James left, then looked down at the bin in confusion. "What on earth was the Commodore doing with this?" he mumbled to himself. Shrugging, he headed towards Lord Beckett's office, smiling slightly as he heard James whistling an upbeat tune.