Newbie with Fics
Hello! Just stumbled across this community and thought I might share what few pieces of related fanfiction I have. Ever since I saw the M&C film, I've loved the rare friendship of Jack and Stephen (and O'Brian for actually writing it)and decided to dip my toe in the proverbial pond of M&C fanfiction. I have a passion for male/male romantic friendship, and these two are a perfect example. No slash is ever intended in my work, but you are free to interpret it as you choose. Happy reading! Perhaps I'll write some more one of these days....
Disclaimer: Master and Commander, Jack Aubrey, and Stephen Maturin are the splendid creations of Patrick O'Brian and in no way mine.
Note: Please forgive me for the quality of these fics. They were written some time ago.... And also, sorry for the shortness...
Title: Seashell
By: CagedWriter61
Rating: PG
Pairings: None, possible J/S
Book: The Far Side of the World, film-canon
Summary: Jack muses on the Galapagos, after Stephen's self-surgery.
Prelude from the Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major by J.S. Bach
Jack Aubrey was not a solitary creature. He had not exactly known this until the incident occurred, but now the truth hit full force. Served him right, considering the way he had behaved, and he was certainly regretting it now. Yes, it was one of life’s lessons that the captain was made to learn the hard way, and, in fact, it was the hardest one he had ever had to learn in his decently long life. He had been arrogant enough to think before that he could handle solitude quite well, thank you very much. He was the captain - he couldn’t be wholly dependent on anything but his ship, including company. At least, that was his frame of mind throughout his entire career up until a few days ago. What had changed this firm and life-long belief was a shocking turn of events that left him feeling even more vulnerable than his best friend.
Stephen Maturin was Jack’s anchor, the resident doctor of the Surprise and his oldest friend. Stephen, unlike Jack, was a solitary creature. He was perfectly content with himself and a lack of company. Nature was enough for the doctor’s soul, and Jack was no different from the crew when it came to the fact that the good doctor’s fascination with nature eluded him. Not just once had Jack felt frustration and neglect when it appeared that Stephen preferred a bird’s company over his. The doctor would spend hours locked away in his rooms, poring over books or analyzing his specimens of dead insects and oceanic plankton or something of the like. The years he had known Stephen had in no way helped him understand that part of the doctor. And perhaps it was this lack of understanding that led him to behave like a complete tyrant with Stephen.
Going over the thoughts once more did not ease the ache they rendered in Jack’s chest. All Stephen had wanted was to see the Galapagos. Jack couldn’t remember the last time the doctor had asked for anything from him, and the one thing his best friend had his heart set on, Jack had to deny it. It wasn’t as if the captain didn’t want to please Stephen. Part of him had chorused the entire time to let Stephen have his dream, but he had given in to the selfish part of him that was obsessed with the pursuit of the Acheron. The result had been a fight that Jack had never wanted in any way and a rift in his friendship with the doctor that had never stopped bothering him. He hated it when Stephen didn’t talk to him, the night empty of music, and the cold glances that the doctor gave him. Thus, the past few days had been no small misery. He had even had several moments where he inwardly considered turning around and giving in just to have Stephen forgive him, but the fever of pursuit had kept him from temptation each time.
And then it had happened - the accident that still left the gunshot reverberating in his head. He had thought for a moment that the damn bird had finally been brought down, but that casual assumption was shattered when he emerged from his cabin. His eyes had widened, after the minute it took for him to realize what lay before him, and he had rushed forward with the feeling like he was taking an eternity and would therefore be too late. Yet the next moment, he was at Stephen’s side, screaming for help, cradling the doctor to his chest. He still couldn’t forget the way Stephen had looked down at the wound, as if he couldn’t feel it, as if he didn’t believe it. The doctor had looked more disoriented than pained - at least in that moment.
Jack hadn’t given it a second thought, when he was told that it would be the best for the doctor to have the bullet removed on firm ground. Once he left Stephen below with Higgins, he gave the official order that the ship turn back to the Galapagos. He was not going to lose his best friend. Not now. Let the Acheron go to hell, but she would not take Stephen. Never Stephen.
"Please don’t tell me this was for me," the doctor had whispered hoarsely as he was carried across shore on a makeshift stretcher. Jack had only smiled down at him, his stride swift.
"Don’t be silly," he reassured Stephen. "I only wanted to stretch my legs."
But dear God, Stephen was selfless. Jack couldn’t think of anything else when the doctor asked him. Stephen had closed his eyes after Jack’s answer and had grown quiet once more, and Jack knew he had accepted that the captain was trying to apologize, in his own strange way. Aubrey was a man of action, whilst Maturin was one of words. That was simply their individual natures. Jack would never have the fortitude to compromise his pride by dragging apologetic words from his lips, but he could very well show his remorse instead of telling it.
That was his story of a rude awakening to the dispensability of his closest friend, and here he was, sitting at Stephen’s side. The doctor was sleeping, bless him, and Jack was content to watch him. The surgery had left Aubrey shaken, despite his career of Navy woes. For all he had seen, Stephen was different. Jack had had to fight ever wave of inclination to look away when the doctor dug into his own flesh for the bullet. Though Higgins had been there, Jack knew Stephen would only ever allow the captain to touch him. Pressing his hand into Stephen’s belly had drained Jack Aubrey of all his usual unwavering confidence, and he was not grateful that the crew had not been present to see him in such a state. He had gripped Stephen’s shoulders countless times before, whether in affection or comfort, but pressing his fingers into the doctor’s soft stomach and causing pain had been entirely different. He hoped, as he rubbed over his eyes tiredly, that he would never be called to such a task again.
A quiet noise interrupted his troubled ruminations. Stephen stirred in his heap of blankets, turning his head toward Jack and opening his china blue eyes sleepily. Neither spoke for a minute, though Jack had straightened in his seat. The doctor almost looked like he was yet asleep with his eyes open.
"Jack," he started. "Long periods of sitting never suited you." Jack almost laughed at this but managed to keep it to a smile.
"How generous of you to remind me, Stephen," he said.
"My generosity is apparently no different than sarcasm," the doctor replied, attempting to push himself up. Jack, however, was quick to stop him. The captain had half-risen from his seat to rest a hand on Stephen’s thin shoulder.
"You shouldn’t move, Stephen," he warned. "You’ll strain yourself." Stephen sunk back down with a sigh of defeat, and Jack sat back down properly, traces of a satisfied smile on his lips. Stephen continued to look at him wearily for a while.
"How long have you been sitting here, Jack?" he asked bleakly. Jack looked into his lap almost sheepishly, another grin surfacing.
"Not too long, Stephen," he said mildly.
"I beg to differ," Stephen said dryly. "You’ve already done too much by turning back for me, and now you have to sit here for hours on end." He looked away, annoyance in his voice, which Jack knew to be guilt in disguise.
"Of course I turned back," he said. "You would have died otherwise. And I don’t mind sitting with you, Stephen." The doctor looked to him again, hesitating to let go of his ill mood but doing so anyway. He felt his heart soften in his chest, and he loathed his weakness. Jack was smiling, regardless of the gesture being unrequited. He stood unexpectedly, drawing Stephen’s attention again, and bent down to pick up his violin that had been sitting near his chair.
"Oh," he said suddenly, ceasing to ready the instrument. Instead, he reached into his pocket and produced a small object that was unseen in his fingers. "I found this and thought you might like it, joy." He offered it to Stephen, who took it, and smiled as he nestled the violin under his chin. As the music began to fill the tent, Stephen studied the gift - a beaded periwinkle seashell. He turned it over in his slender fingers, unsure why Jack would do such a thing, and looked up to his friend after a moment. Jack was smiling, his eyes closed, the bow stroking its strings sweetly. At last, Stephen felt a soft smile creep over him and set the shell on the corner of his makeshift bedside table - a crate. He would have to take up his cello soon.
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Title: The Tambourine Dove
By: CagedWriter61
Rating: PG
Pairings: none, possible J/S
Book: in between Mauritius Command and Desolation Island, but I may be wrong
Summary: Jack and Stephen have dinner together in London.
December 21, 1810 was an overcast day in London. The snow had only coated the city enough to make for a lovely afternoon, instead of getting miserable and out of hand. The streets teemed with last-minute shoppers, and the buggies kept up the steady rhythm of hoof-beats on cobble stone. The shop windows were glowing softly with orange lantern-light from the insides, and the carolers had not failed to appear this year. A first-time visitor to London would not have suspected that England was yet involved in the harrowing war against Napoleon’s France, nor that two men in particular were involved in the very battles that shaped the war’s course.
Stephen Maturin and Jack Aubrey strolled down Burberry road, toward the small English Rose Café, their conversation indecipherable with the noise surrounding them. The doctor’s blue eyes twinkled at something the captain said, and the next moment brought their bright mirth out like a spark in the middle of the otherwise shadowed street. Jack’s laughter died down to a private grin as he uncrossed his arms to lay a guiding hand on Stephen’s back when they reached the café door, the doctor languidly ambling inside with his hands still in his coat pockets. The host escorted the pair into the adjoining dining room from the greeting room, where the agreeable and mild noise of people having their dinner or coffee filled the room with flushed warmth that the initial greeting room lacked. Candles burned at every table, laughter rang out in accompaniment to the musical clinging and clanging of silverware on glass, and the pair of friends smiled simultaneously at the pleasant atmosphere. They found a table near one of the windows, and each shed his coat and hat.
“Good evening, Captain Aubrey,” greeted a thin waiter by the name of Greenly, who had become acquainted with the captain and doctor over the last few years.
“Evening, Greenly. How are you on this fine December evening?”
“Fine, sir, and I hope you’re all the better.”
“Quite lovely, actually. Don’t you agree, Stephen?”
“Lovely indeed, soul.” Stephen adjusted his glasses before his brow creased slightly when he began to study the menu.
“Glad to hear it, sir. And what wine will you be having this evening, sir?”
“I think we’ll have the Brunello di Montalcino tonight, right, Stephen?”
“Yes, joy, that would be just fine,” the doctor crooned, his glasses gleaming as he pored over Entrees. Greenly nodded, as Jack thanked him, and sped off.
“Pity we’re at war with France, I rather fancy their wine,” Stephen commented casually, and Jack laughed.
“Well, I suppose that as much of a bastard as Napoleon is, I can’t deny that his country does produce some great wine.”
“I haven’t had champagne in seven bloody years,” Stephen complained, eyes steadily moving across the page. Jack chuckled to himself.
“Do you remember the last time we had champagne, Stephen? The night we first saw Diana at Melbury Lodge where Mr. Sevile was holding his fox hunt?” The doctor broke into a fond smile, eyes glazed in remembrance.
“A great deal of things have happened since then,” Stephen ruminated. “And behold, she’s not here to spend the holidays with me before we’re off again.” Jack’s smile dissipated at Stephen’s saddened tone. The doctor looked up at him and laughed lightly.
“Oh, joy, don’t pity me now because of a minuscule misfortune. I’m fine, I promise you.” He had seized that gracious and tender expression that would have some strangers believe him to be a man of more years and less stomach for gore. His thin fingers tapped at his glass rhythmically, his hold on it as loose as it could have been.
“I’m sorry I can’t spend Christmas with you, Stephen,” Jack apologized after a while.
“Don’t be silly, Jack. I wouldn’t dream of depriving Sophie and the children of you on Christmas.”
“Come join us, love. I’d hate to think of you spending the holiday alone.”
“Jack, I refuse to intrude on your family’s holiday,” Stephen mewled, despite Jack’s pleading stare.
“But you can’t spend Christmas alone, Stephen, it’s a crime.”
“You’re being melodramatic, soul, and it’s not like you.” Stephen sent him a clever look and leaned over to fetch the wine bottle, pouring it into his crystal glass. Jack sighed as he stood from the table, telling his friend that he would return in a moment. Stephen watched as the captain made his way into the greeting room and spoke with the host, before returning to the menu with a sip of his wine. He only looked up again when Jack sat down and set a box-like object on the table, the shape of a handle obvious beneath its black cloth cover.
“What’s this?” Stephen questioned, but Jack only smiled.
“An early Christmas gift, joy.”
“Oh, Jack, you know how I feel about gifts.”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too expensive. Open it,” Jack urged, eager for Stephen’s reaction. The cellist eyed him suspiciously but pulled the gift across the table, setting the menu aside with his glasses. Without much hesitancy, he pulled the cloth away to reveal a small, wooden cage housing a single bird. Stephen gasped audibly, much to Jack’s delight, and leaned in as close as he could to look at it. It was a plump little thing, its breast and belly immaculately white and its back a dark brown. Its head bobbed as it cooed without opening its thin beak, and its beady eyes shone at Stephen.
“Oh, Jack,” he breathed. The captain was grinning broadly now, very pleased with himself indeed.
“It’s from Africa,” Jack explained. “One of my old colleagues had sailed down recently and apparently brought back several souvenirs. I asked him if he would be willing to give it up, and he had no problem. Do you like it?”
“He’s beautiful,” Stephen cooed. “A Turtur tympanisitria, I believe. They’re ground doves, if I’m not mistaken, so it shouldn’t mind the aviary.” He peered up at his beaming captain, that tremendous look of gratitude in his eyes, and murmured a “Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome, Stephen. I’m glad it pleases you. Now, please say you’ll join me for Christmas.” The doctor muffled a sigh as he straightened in his chair, uncertainty in his expression.
“The children love you, Sophie adores you,” Jack added. “Come now, Stephen. Don’t make yourself lonely.” The doctor smiled faintly and paused.
“All right, Jack,” he surrendered quietly. “I’ll join you for Christmas.” Aubrey’s lips stretched up wide into a gladdened smile, and the two shared a quiet exchange lacking words while their eyes locked. Jack poured himself a glass of wine at last and raised it up in a toast.
“To friendship.” Stephen gave a soft smile and lifted his glass to Jack’s.
“To friendship.”
Disclaimer: Master and Commander, Jack Aubrey, and Stephen Maturin are the splendid creations of Patrick O'Brian and in no way mine.
Note: Please forgive me for the quality of these fics. They were written some time ago.... And also, sorry for the shortness...
Title: Seashell
By: CagedWriter61
Rating: PG
Pairings: None, possible J/S
Book: The Far Side of the World, film-canon
Summary: Jack muses on the Galapagos, after Stephen's self-surgery.
Prelude from the Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major by J.S. Bach
Jack Aubrey was not a solitary creature. He had not exactly known this until the incident occurred, but now the truth hit full force. Served him right, considering the way he had behaved, and he was certainly regretting it now. Yes, it was one of life’s lessons that the captain was made to learn the hard way, and, in fact, it was the hardest one he had ever had to learn in his decently long life. He had been arrogant enough to think before that he could handle solitude quite well, thank you very much. He was the captain - he couldn’t be wholly dependent on anything but his ship, including company. At least, that was his frame of mind throughout his entire career up until a few days ago. What had changed this firm and life-long belief was a shocking turn of events that left him feeling even more vulnerable than his best friend.
Stephen Maturin was Jack’s anchor, the resident doctor of the Surprise and his oldest friend. Stephen, unlike Jack, was a solitary creature. He was perfectly content with himself and a lack of company. Nature was enough for the doctor’s soul, and Jack was no different from the crew when it came to the fact that the good doctor’s fascination with nature eluded him. Not just once had Jack felt frustration and neglect when it appeared that Stephen preferred a bird’s company over his. The doctor would spend hours locked away in his rooms, poring over books or analyzing his specimens of dead insects and oceanic plankton or something of the like. The years he had known Stephen had in no way helped him understand that part of the doctor. And perhaps it was this lack of understanding that led him to behave like a complete tyrant with Stephen.
Going over the thoughts once more did not ease the ache they rendered in Jack’s chest. All Stephen had wanted was to see the Galapagos. Jack couldn’t remember the last time the doctor had asked for anything from him, and the one thing his best friend had his heart set on, Jack had to deny it. It wasn’t as if the captain didn’t want to please Stephen. Part of him had chorused the entire time to let Stephen have his dream, but he had given in to the selfish part of him that was obsessed with the pursuit of the Acheron. The result had been a fight that Jack had never wanted in any way and a rift in his friendship with the doctor that had never stopped bothering him. He hated it when Stephen didn’t talk to him, the night empty of music, and the cold glances that the doctor gave him. Thus, the past few days had been no small misery. He had even had several moments where he inwardly considered turning around and giving in just to have Stephen forgive him, but the fever of pursuit had kept him from temptation each time.
And then it had happened - the accident that still left the gunshot reverberating in his head. He had thought for a moment that the damn bird had finally been brought down, but that casual assumption was shattered when he emerged from his cabin. His eyes had widened, after the minute it took for him to realize what lay before him, and he had rushed forward with the feeling like he was taking an eternity and would therefore be too late. Yet the next moment, he was at Stephen’s side, screaming for help, cradling the doctor to his chest. He still couldn’t forget the way Stephen had looked down at the wound, as if he couldn’t feel it, as if he didn’t believe it. The doctor had looked more disoriented than pained - at least in that moment.
Jack hadn’t given it a second thought, when he was told that it would be the best for the doctor to have the bullet removed on firm ground. Once he left Stephen below with Higgins, he gave the official order that the ship turn back to the Galapagos. He was not going to lose his best friend. Not now. Let the Acheron go to hell, but she would not take Stephen. Never Stephen.
"Please don’t tell me this was for me," the doctor had whispered hoarsely as he was carried across shore on a makeshift stretcher. Jack had only smiled down at him, his stride swift.
"Don’t be silly," he reassured Stephen. "I only wanted to stretch my legs."
But dear God, Stephen was selfless. Jack couldn’t think of anything else when the doctor asked him. Stephen had closed his eyes after Jack’s answer and had grown quiet once more, and Jack knew he had accepted that the captain was trying to apologize, in his own strange way. Aubrey was a man of action, whilst Maturin was one of words. That was simply their individual natures. Jack would never have the fortitude to compromise his pride by dragging apologetic words from his lips, but he could very well show his remorse instead of telling it.
That was his story of a rude awakening to the dispensability of his closest friend, and here he was, sitting at Stephen’s side. The doctor was sleeping, bless him, and Jack was content to watch him. The surgery had left Aubrey shaken, despite his career of Navy woes. For all he had seen, Stephen was different. Jack had had to fight ever wave of inclination to look away when the doctor dug into his own flesh for the bullet. Though Higgins had been there, Jack knew Stephen would only ever allow the captain to touch him. Pressing his hand into Stephen’s belly had drained Jack Aubrey of all his usual unwavering confidence, and he was not grateful that the crew had not been present to see him in such a state. He had gripped Stephen’s shoulders countless times before, whether in affection or comfort, but pressing his fingers into the doctor’s soft stomach and causing pain had been entirely different. He hoped, as he rubbed over his eyes tiredly, that he would never be called to such a task again.
A quiet noise interrupted his troubled ruminations. Stephen stirred in his heap of blankets, turning his head toward Jack and opening his china blue eyes sleepily. Neither spoke for a minute, though Jack had straightened in his seat. The doctor almost looked like he was yet asleep with his eyes open.
"Jack," he started. "Long periods of sitting never suited you." Jack almost laughed at this but managed to keep it to a smile.
"How generous of you to remind me, Stephen," he said.
"My generosity is apparently no different than sarcasm," the doctor replied, attempting to push himself up. Jack, however, was quick to stop him. The captain had half-risen from his seat to rest a hand on Stephen’s thin shoulder.
"You shouldn’t move, Stephen," he warned. "You’ll strain yourself." Stephen sunk back down with a sigh of defeat, and Jack sat back down properly, traces of a satisfied smile on his lips. Stephen continued to look at him wearily for a while.
"How long have you been sitting here, Jack?" he asked bleakly. Jack looked into his lap almost sheepishly, another grin surfacing.
"Not too long, Stephen," he said mildly.
"I beg to differ," Stephen said dryly. "You’ve already done too much by turning back for me, and now you have to sit here for hours on end." He looked away, annoyance in his voice, which Jack knew to be guilt in disguise.
"Of course I turned back," he said. "You would have died otherwise. And I don’t mind sitting with you, Stephen." The doctor looked to him again, hesitating to let go of his ill mood but doing so anyway. He felt his heart soften in his chest, and he loathed his weakness. Jack was smiling, regardless of the gesture being unrequited. He stood unexpectedly, drawing Stephen’s attention again, and bent down to pick up his violin that had been sitting near his chair.
"Oh," he said suddenly, ceasing to ready the instrument. Instead, he reached into his pocket and produced a small object that was unseen in his fingers. "I found this and thought you might like it, joy." He offered it to Stephen, who took it, and smiled as he nestled the violin under his chin. As the music began to fill the tent, Stephen studied the gift - a beaded periwinkle seashell. He turned it over in his slender fingers, unsure why Jack would do such a thing, and looked up to his friend after a moment. Jack was smiling, his eyes closed, the bow stroking its strings sweetly. At last, Stephen felt a soft smile creep over him and set the shell on the corner of his makeshift bedside table - a crate. He would have to take up his cello soon.
----------------------------------------------------------
Title: The Tambourine Dove
By: CagedWriter61
Rating: PG
Pairings: none, possible J/S
Book: in between Mauritius Command and Desolation Island, but I may be wrong
Summary: Jack and Stephen have dinner together in London.
December 21, 1810 was an overcast day in London. The snow had only coated the city enough to make for a lovely afternoon, instead of getting miserable and out of hand. The streets teemed with last-minute shoppers, and the buggies kept up the steady rhythm of hoof-beats on cobble stone. The shop windows were glowing softly with orange lantern-light from the insides, and the carolers had not failed to appear this year. A first-time visitor to London would not have suspected that England was yet involved in the harrowing war against Napoleon’s France, nor that two men in particular were involved in the very battles that shaped the war’s course.
Stephen Maturin and Jack Aubrey strolled down Burberry road, toward the small English Rose Café, their conversation indecipherable with the noise surrounding them. The doctor’s blue eyes twinkled at something the captain said, and the next moment brought their bright mirth out like a spark in the middle of the otherwise shadowed street. Jack’s laughter died down to a private grin as he uncrossed his arms to lay a guiding hand on Stephen’s back when they reached the café door, the doctor languidly ambling inside with his hands still in his coat pockets. The host escorted the pair into the adjoining dining room from the greeting room, where the agreeable and mild noise of people having their dinner or coffee filled the room with flushed warmth that the initial greeting room lacked. Candles burned at every table, laughter rang out in accompaniment to the musical clinging and clanging of silverware on glass, and the pair of friends smiled simultaneously at the pleasant atmosphere. They found a table near one of the windows, and each shed his coat and hat.
“Good evening, Captain Aubrey,” greeted a thin waiter by the name of Greenly, who had become acquainted with the captain and doctor over the last few years.
“Evening, Greenly. How are you on this fine December evening?”
“Fine, sir, and I hope you’re all the better.”
“Quite lovely, actually. Don’t you agree, Stephen?”
“Lovely indeed, soul.” Stephen adjusted his glasses before his brow creased slightly when he began to study the menu.
“Glad to hear it, sir. And what wine will you be having this evening, sir?”
“I think we’ll have the Brunello di Montalcino tonight, right, Stephen?”
“Yes, joy, that would be just fine,” the doctor crooned, his glasses gleaming as he pored over Entrees. Greenly nodded, as Jack thanked him, and sped off.
“Pity we’re at war with France, I rather fancy their wine,” Stephen commented casually, and Jack laughed.
“Well, I suppose that as much of a bastard as Napoleon is, I can’t deny that his country does produce some great wine.”
“I haven’t had champagne in seven bloody years,” Stephen complained, eyes steadily moving across the page. Jack chuckled to himself.
“Do you remember the last time we had champagne, Stephen? The night we first saw Diana at Melbury Lodge where Mr. Sevile was holding his fox hunt?” The doctor broke into a fond smile, eyes glazed in remembrance.
“A great deal of things have happened since then,” Stephen ruminated. “And behold, she’s not here to spend the holidays with me before we’re off again.” Jack’s smile dissipated at Stephen’s saddened tone. The doctor looked up at him and laughed lightly.
“Oh, joy, don’t pity me now because of a minuscule misfortune. I’m fine, I promise you.” He had seized that gracious and tender expression that would have some strangers believe him to be a man of more years and less stomach for gore. His thin fingers tapped at his glass rhythmically, his hold on it as loose as it could have been.
“I’m sorry I can’t spend Christmas with you, Stephen,” Jack apologized after a while.
“Don’t be silly, Jack. I wouldn’t dream of depriving Sophie and the children of you on Christmas.”
“Come join us, love. I’d hate to think of you spending the holiday alone.”
“Jack, I refuse to intrude on your family’s holiday,” Stephen mewled, despite Jack’s pleading stare.
“But you can’t spend Christmas alone, Stephen, it’s a crime.”
“You’re being melodramatic, soul, and it’s not like you.” Stephen sent him a clever look and leaned over to fetch the wine bottle, pouring it into his crystal glass. Jack sighed as he stood from the table, telling his friend that he would return in a moment. Stephen watched as the captain made his way into the greeting room and spoke with the host, before returning to the menu with a sip of his wine. He only looked up again when Jack sat down and set a box-like object on the table, the shape of a handle obvious beneath its black cloth cover.
“What’s this?” Stephen questioned, but Jack only smiled.
“An early Christmas gift, joy.”
“Oh, Jack, you know how I feel about gifts.”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing too expensive. Open it,” Jack urged, eager for Stephen’s reaction. The cellist eyed him suspiciously but pulled the gift across the table, setting the menu aside with his glasses. Without much hesitancy, he pulled the cloth away to reveal a small, wooden cage housing a single bird. Stephen gasped audibly, much to Jack’s delight, and leaned in as close as he could to look at it. It was a plump little thing, its breast and belly immaculately white and its back a dark brown. Its head bobbed as it cooed without opening its thin beak, and its beady eyes shone at Stephen.
“Oh, Jack,” he breathed. The captain was grinning broadly now, very pleased with himself indeed.
“It’s from Africa,” Jack explained. “One of my old colleagues had sailed down recently and apparently brought back several souvenirs. I asked him if he would be willing to give it up, and he had no problem. Do you like it?”
“He’s beautiful,” Stephen cooed. “A Turtur tympanisitria, I believe. They’re ground doves, if I’m not mistaken, so it shouldn’t mind the aviary.” He peered up at his beaming captain, that tremendous look of gratitude in his eyes, and murmured a “Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome, Stephen. I’m glad it pleases you. Now, please say you’ll join me for Christmas.” The doctor muffled a sigh as he straightened in his chair, uncertainty in his expression.
“The children love you, Sophie adores you,” Jack added. “Come now, Stephen. Don’t make yourself lonely.” The doctor smiled faintly and paused.
“All right, Jack,” he surrendered quietly. “I’ll join you for Christmas.” Aubrey’s lips stretched up wide into a gladdened smile, and the two shared a quiet exchange lacking words while their eyes locked. Jack poured himself a glass of wine at last and raised it up in a toast.
“To friendship.” Stephen gave a soft smile and lifted his glass to Jack’s.
“To friendship.”