Fiction. Safe. Jack and Stephen. PG-13
TITLE: Safe
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
FANDOM: Master and Commander
PAIRINGS: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin
RATING: PG-13
CHALLENGE: Submitted for slashthedrabble #303--Past Prompts Revisited--#010--Touch
WORD COUNT: 200
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was so moved after reading HMS Surprise I just had to write something about Jack and Stephen's bond.
Stephen lie in his cot wrecked with fever, calling out in many languages.
Jack sat at Stephen’s bedside feeling utterly powerless.
How many times had he saved Stephen: from drowning in the sea; from falling down an open hatch; from the torture at Mahon?
Now Jack sat; his whole massive being poised to save his friend but all he could do was to occasionally wipe Stephen’s brow.
Jack reached out to touch Stephen’s hand. The hand that had been so cruelly maimed and was just now able to hold the cello’s bow or a lancet with surety.
Stephen’s eyes flew open at the touch. He looked wildly about the room. As he struggled to focus, his gaze came to rest on Jack. A crooked smile appeared on Stephen’s pale haggard face.
“Jack, my dear,” he croaked, “you are here. I dreamt that you were. Please hold on to me. For all the love, do not let me drown.”
“Stephen, Stephen!” Jack called. But he had once more slipped into the fevered delirium where he had spent so many hours.
Jack gently raised the hand to his lips. He kissed it and said, “ I will never let you go, Stephen.”
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
FANDOM: Master and Commander
PAIRINGS: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin
RATING: PG-13
CHALLENGE: Submitted for slashthedrabble #303--Past Prompts Revisited--#010--Touch
WORD COUNT: 200
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I was so moved after reading HMS Surprise I just had to write something about Jack and Stephen's bond.
Stephen lie in his cot wrecked with fever, calling out in many languages.
Jack sat at Stephen’s bedside feeling utterly powerless.
How many times had he saved Stephen: from drowning in the sea; from falling down an open hatch; from the torture at Mahon?
Now Jack sat; his whole massive being poised to save his friend but all he could do was to occasionally wipe Stephen’s brow.
Jack reached out to touch Stephen’s hand. The hand that had been so cruelly maimed and was just now able to hold the cello’s bow or a lancet with surety.
Stephen’s eyes flew open at the touch. He looked wildly about the room. As he struggled to focus, his gaze came to rest on Jack. A crooked smile appeared on Stephen’s pale haggard face.
“Jack, my dear,” he croaked, “you are here. I dreamt that you were. Please hold on to me. For all the love, do not let me drown.”
“Stephen, Stephen!” Jack called. But he had once more slipped into the fevered delirium where he had spent so many hours.
Jack gently raised the hand to his lips. He kissed it and said, “ I will never let you go, Stephen.”