MandC: Every New Beginning
Title: Every New Beginning
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: Aubreyad
Pairing, Characters: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin, mention of Harte and Molly
Rating: PG-13 for violent thoughts
Spoilers: Master and Commander
Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
Length: 1925 words
Status: Complicated. I am toying with the idea of continuing this as a darkish fic, but then again, for me this is already a rather long fic.
Summary: Underneath that stiff uniform Jack always struck me as a strongly emotional person. Not all emotion is positive.
Author's Note: Thought of, started, and put away again for almost a year, eventually written for perfect_duet's Christmas Calendar 2010. Please note that this is …different. And though nothing bad happens, it hints at things that are not pretty.
Thank you most kindly, tootsiemuppet, for quickbetaing and still loving me after reading this.
Written: December 2010
Every New Beginning
Any moment now that insufferably little man would turn to him again, Jack was sure of it. The sharp elbow would burrow into his side painfully and the ugly creature would hiss at him, if his blood must pulse in his ears loud enough to almost drone out the strings, could it not do so in time? He clenched his teeth to not open his mouth at his neighbour pre-emptively and roar at him with a voice that could make a command be heard on deck over the bellowing of a storm, he wanted to yell and scream with the wrath of the wronged. Granted, some civilian who had the unfortunate luck of finding himself sitting next to a lieutenant would have had no hand in the secretary's brother snatching that French privateer from right under his nose, but that had been supposed to be his command, his advancement, the reward for his many years of service, but it had been taken from him, he had been deliberately passed over, again. It had been Harte's doing, surely, that backhanded, jealous coward had it in for him and blocked his path with poor-spirited abuses of his position whenever he could. And now, at this concerto that was to be one of his few reprieves while stuck on land and without prospect of a command, there sat this man, smaller yet than Harte and likely just as dull and maliciously rigid, had handed him a blow! No more. No, this, finally, Jack had not to take and smile through gritted teeth anymore. He wanted to smash the pale, arrogant face in, wanted to take his chair and beat the man right off his seat and onto the ground, laying into him until the blood ran down his skin, dark red and hot, he wanted to drive that cold smugness out of his cruel pale eyes until they reflected the shock of having the world turn on him, until they shone bright with tears and pain and the unfairness boiling within Jack himself. He wanted to show to everyone that you did not walk all over Jack Aubrey, that he would not sit idly and shyly when dealt such an affront, would not swallow down these insults but strike back blow by blow, and that he packed a punch more deserving of respect than that of any weak, pinched pencilpusher.
He clenched his fists until even his short sailors' nails, not pampered and long as those of a man not used to manual labour, dug painfully into his palms, blood slowly oozing from the halfmoon cuts. He focussed on that pain to control his rage and maintain his composure. It would not do to lose it during the concert and offend Molly Harte, and with all of Mahon and half of Gibraltar watching, no, this was not a place for satisfaction but for exchanging pleasantries and civilities.
The performance was nearing its end though, polite clapping filling the air instead of melancholic music, and once he had paid his compliments satisfaction could be obtained for this last slight at least, out of sight, and bolstering him for the next ones to come he'd have to keep silent to and stomach without being able to respond in kind.
'My name is Aubrey, sir: I am staying at the Crown.'
He once again did not get the satisfaction he so wanted. With a blankly uttered sentence the man in the black coat brushed him of and brushed past him, disappearing. Not a hint of repentance even in his eyes (not that Jack would have wanted to content with an apology not even spoken out loud), but instead he arrogantly, haughtily seemed to look down at Jack despite their difference in height, cool where Jack himself was barely holding onto his composure. The nerve of the man, the, the, shyness! To pretend not to have noticed, not to have meant offence! The dog had run like a dirty mongrel afraid of a beating. Hah, and wasn't that just what had happened, the man indeed ill-looking and dirty like a street tyke, and running from the impending set-to with his tail between his legs.
With the realisation that the man's retreat had been in itself an acknowledgement that he did not see himself on par with Jack slightly cooling his bruised feelings Jack turned his step towards the Crown, where he had his lodgings, and in Mercedes the most delicious serving girl, who would surely take his mind of matters.
~
He had all but forgotten about the man in the black coat when he saw him again in front of Joselito's. How long ago the last night seemed, now that he had been made! And oh, how miserable he had behaved, surely the poor fellow had intended no harm, a civilian, possibly of foreign descent, didn't know the ways of the Navy, had only wanted to enjoy some music, a mere nudge, no offence meant, probably did not want to raise his voice during the piece to not disturb the quartetto, clearly a man of taste and manners, and here Jack had almost decked him in front of Molly's whole party! Had he yesterday been upset at his wit having abandoned him he now thought it a lucky coincidence, for as he stood in the street with the epaulette heavy on his shoulder and fixed his eyes on the other man he seemed in contrast to Jack's proud and jubilant state, even slighter than before, and strangely at a loss when Jack himself was all but bursting with joyful energy and wanted nothing more than to share it with the world.
'Mr - Mr Maturin!'
Soon they sat at Joselito's, sharing a pot of hot chocolate - furiously whipped, hah, what a peculiar turn of words for something as innocent as hot chocolate - with cream. His companion turned out to be a regular at the place, and quite an odd fellow, speaking the local Spanish as easy as kiss my hand and a pleasant companion to talk music with, but with no knowledge of something as practical as the weather. Indeed Maturin seemed to be a strangely unworldly creature, making an offhand comment about finding himself in a less than favourable financial but not particularly concerned with it, and looking at the man Jack would not put it past him to forget to eat. So Jack found his opinion of Maturin wholly changed, the man strange but entertaining and a decent conversationalist, if somewhat unconcerned. Too soon the hour struck and Jack had was reminded that he had business to attend to - making calls, mostly a waste of time, but not to be avoided or put off any further. Feeling generous and by now a bit fond of Maturin Jack asked him to join him for dinner, in the midst of accepting which Maturin all but ran off in pursuit of a bird of all things. He's an odd bird himself, thought Jack as he left his new friend.
~
The afternoon found Jack in high spirits again, having once again been used most horridly by Harte, who had malevolently delayed Jack's commission and let Allen sail in Pallas, taking most of his men with him and leaving the Sophie sadly short in hands, but recovered somewhat after meeting Molly, having Williams, his prize-agent, promise to procure an able seaman in exchange for Jack taking his wife's cousin, an earnest youngster, on as his clerk, and then learning from Baldick, Allen's first lieutenant who was laid up in hospital here in Mahon, that Sophie had not indeed been stripped bare but retained most of her crew, lacking first and foremost a surgeon.
The Sophie herself made his heart swell.
She was shipshape. No plum, not that French privateer that would have been his, both her and her crew giving of an air of not age but old-fashionedness, but she was well-kept, all trim lines and smooth curves, with a capable crew and master.
And she was his.
Soon he would be back at sea, where he had lived since the age of twelve, in charge of the sloop and every single soul on her, his commission, his cabin, his crew, his ship, sea and wind and war - prize, duty, everything he had worked for . Away from land, from admiralty and politics, bureaucracy, favouritism and society. Back at sea, where he would be in command and in control.
Surely loneliness would be a small price to pay.
~
Dinner, Jack felt as he filled their glasses with wine again, was a most splendid thing. He had at first been cross that they had not been served the dishes he'd ordered, when he had so carefully ordered in Spanish, but he did not need to know their names to enjoy the meal, and smiled fondly at Maturin as he urged him to have some more of the mutton. Despite his odd looks his new friend proved to be entertaining company indeed, even more so after the taste of solitude Jack had felt earlier. As he had suspected Maturin was somewhat of a learned man, told Jack that there were two Spanish languages, knew them both, could compare Italian and Portuguese, knew in fact the Latin and Spanish (both of them) names of every dish, and knew all that without any air of affectedness, endearingly unassuming. Jack found himself more and more interested in Maturin, and, thankfully satisfying his curiosity, Maturin volunteered that he had grown up in the area, had indeed all but been a local during his youth - probably thinking his knowledge of the Spanish as natural as Jack his of life at sea -, attended university in Ireland in all places, had an interest in every plant and bird and bug that lived, and returned to Minorca for the sake of studying them.
And he was a doctor. Not even a mere surgeon even, but a physician (he seemed particular about that distinction, and Jack knew to respect rank). And Sophie lacking a surgeon.
'I think I should have had you run aboard and kept under hatches till we were at sea. My poor Sophie has no surgeon and there is no likelihood of finding her one. Come, sir, cannot I prevail upon you to go to sea?'
To have both a surgeon and a friend on board, as close to an equal as one could get on a man-of-war, someone to not only follow his cues but offer conversation, music, to distract Jack from the burden of command, to spend long nights with sharing meals and each other's company. On Sophie with jack would be the very place for Maturin to be, would it not? At the very least he would see more of his birds, and there was always the possibility of prize-money.
And much to Jack's delight the man's greatest reserve was the question of his qualification! He did his utmost to reassure the doctor that he would be more than competent enough, and not much ceremony was needed at all. When Maturin confessed that circumstances had left him in need of immediate employment and Jack's offer very much tempted him, Jack, not wanting to take advantage of someone he came to consider a friend, but unable to refrain from grasping at this opportunity, persuaded him to come aboard the next day.
He had decided to take Stephen Maturin to Cagliari with him. It would be just the thing for both of them.
~
Additional A/N: And then I took a look at my playlist for this (Seether - FMLYHM, Three Days Grace - I Hate (Everything About You), Skunk Anansie - Hedonism (Just Because You Feel Good), Billy Talent - Voices of Violence, Nickelback - Figured You Out, Violent Femmes - Do You Really Want To Hurt me, Seether (again) - Fake It, and Puddle of Mudd - Control), noticed a little voice in the back of my mind mumbling about abuse of power, Stephen being dependant on Jack, alpha males, and PO'B failing to have them duel, and scared myself into stopping here.
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: Aubreyad
Pairing, Characters: Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin, mention of Harte and Molly
Rating: PG-13 for violent thoughts
Spoilers: Master and Commander
Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
Length: 1925 words
Status: Complicated. I am toying with the idea of continuing this as a darkish fic, but then again, for me this is already a rather long fic.
Summary: Underneath that stiff uniform Jack always struck me as a strongly emotional person. Not all emotion is positive.
Author's Note: Thought of, started, and put away again for almost a year, eventually written for perfect_duet's Christmas Calendar 2010. Please note that this is …different. And though nothing bad happens, it hints at things that are not pretty.
Thank you most kindly, tootsiemuppet, for quickbetaing and still loving me after reading this.
Written: December 2010
Every New Beginning
Any moment now that insufferably little man would turn to him again, Jack was sure of it. The sharp elbow would burrow into his side painfully and the ugly creature would hiss at him, if his blood must pulse in his ears loud enough to almost drone out the strings, could it not do so in time? He clenched his teeth to not open his mouth at his neighbour pre-emptively and roar at him with a voice that could make a command be heard on deck over the bellowing of a storm, he wanted to yell and scream with the wrath of the wronged. Granted, some civilian who had the unfortunate luck of finding himself sitting next to a lieutenant would have had no hand in the secretary's brother snatching that French privateer from right under his nose, but that had been supposed to be his command, his advancement, the reward for his many years of service, but it had been taken from him, he had been deliberately passed over, again. It had been Harte's doing, surely, that backhanded, jealous coward had it in for him and blocked his path with poor-spirited abuses of his position whenever he could. And now, at this concerto that was to be one of his few reprieves while stuck on land and without prospect of a command, there sat this man, smaller yet than Harte and likely just as dull and maliciously rigid, had handed him a blow! No more. No, this, finally, Jack had not to take and smile through gritted teeth anymore. He wanted to smash the pale, arrogant face in, wanted to take his chair and beat the man right off his seat and onto the ground, laying into him until the blood ran down his skin, dark red and hot, he wanted to drive that cold smugness out of his cruel pale eyes until they reflected the shock of having the world turn on him, until they shone bright with tears and pain and the unfairness boiling within Jack himself. He wanted to show to everyone that you did not walk all over Jack Aubrey, that he would not sit idly and shyly when dealt such an affront, would not swallow down these insults but strike back blow by blow, and that he packed a punch more deserving of respect than that of any weak, pinched pencilpusher.
He clenched his fists until even his short sailors' nails, not pampered and long as those of a man not used to manual labour, dug painfully into his palms, blood slowly oozing from the halfmoon cuts. He focussed on that pain to control his rage and maintain his composure. It would not do to lose it during the concert and offend Molly Harte, and with all of Mahon and half of Gibraltar watching, no, this was not a place for satisfaction but for exchanging pleasantries and civilities.
The performance was nearing its end though, polite clapping filling the air instead of melancholic music, and once he had paid his compliments satisfaction could be obtained for this last slight at least, out of sight, and bolstering him for the next ones to come he'd have to keep silent to and stomach without being able to respond in kind.
'My name is Aubrey, sir: I am staying at the Crown.'
He once again did not get the satisfaction he so wanted. With a blankly uttered sentence the man in the black coat brushed him of and brushed past him, disappearing. Not a hint of repentance even in his eyes (not that Jack would have wanted to content with an apology not even spoken out loud), but instead he arrogantly, haughtily seemed to look down at Jack despite their difference in height, cool where Jack himself was barely holding onto his composure. The nerve of the man, the, the, shyness! To pretend not to have noticed, not to have meant offence! The dog had run like a dirty mongrel afraid of a beating. Hah, and wasn't that just what had happened, the man indeed ill-looking and dirty like a street tyke, and running from the impending set-to with his tail between his legs.
With the realisation that the man's retreat had been in itself an acknowledgement that he did not see himself on par with Jack slightly cooling his bruised feelings Jack turned his step towards the Crown, where he had his lodgings, and in Mercedes the most delicious serving girl, who would surely take his mind of matters.
~
He had all but forgotten about the man in the black coat when he saw him again in front of Joselito's. How long ago the last night seemed, now that he had been made! And oh, how miserable he had behaved, surely the poor fellow had intended no harm, a civilian, possibly of foreign descent, didn't know the ways of the Navy, had only wanted to enjoy some music, a mere nudge, no offence meant, probably did not want to raise his voice during the piece to not disturb the quartetto, clearly a man of taste and manners, and here Jack had almost decked him in front of Molly's whole party! Had he yesterday been upset at his wit having abandoned him he now thought it a lucky coincidence, for as he stood in the street with the epaulette heavy on his shoulder and fixed his eyes on the other man he seemed in contrast to Jack's proud and jubilant state, even slighter than before, and strangely at a loss when Jack himself was all but bursting with joyful energy and wanted nothing more than to share it with the world.
'Mr - Mr Maturin!'
Soon they sat at Joselito's, sharing a pot of hot chocolate - furiously whipped, hah, what a peculiar turn of words for something as innocent as hot chocolate - with cream. His companion turned out to be a regular at the place, and quite an odd fellow, speaking the local Spanish as easy as kiss my hand and a pleasant companion to talk music with, but with no knowledge of something as practical as the weather. Indeed Maturin seemed to be a strangely unworldly creature, making an offhand comment about finding himself in a less than favourable financial but not particularly concerned with it, and looking at the man Jack would not put it past him to forget to eat. So Jack found his opinion of Maturin wholly changed, the man strange but entertaining and a decent conversationalist, if somewhat unconcerned. Too soon the hour struck and Jack had was reminded that he had business to attend to - making calls, mostly a waste of time, but not to be avoided or put off any further. Feeling generous and by now a bit fond of Maturin Jack asked him to join him for dinner, in the midst of accepting which Maturin all but ran off in pursuit of a bird of all things. He's an odd bird himself, thought Jack as he left his new friend.
~
The afternoon found Jack in high spirits again, having once again been used most horridly by Harte, who had malevolently delayed Jack's commission and let Allen sail in Pallas, taking most of his men with him and leaving the Sophie sadly short in hands, but recovered somewhat after meeting Molly, having Williams, his prize-agent, promise to procure an able seaman in exchange for Jack taking his wife's cousin, an earnest youngster, on as his clerk, and then learning from Baldick, Allen's first lieutenant who was laid up in hospital here in Mahon, that Sophie had not indeed been stripped bare but retained most of her crew, lacking first and foremost a surgeon.
The Sophie herself made his heart swell.
She was shipshape. No plum, not that French privateer that would have been his, both her and her crew giving of an air of not age but old-fashionedness, but she was well-kept, all trim lines and smooth curves, with a capable crew and master.
And she was his.
Soon he would be back at sea, where he had lived since the age of twelve, in charge of the sloop and every single soul on her, his commission, his cabin, his crew, his ship, sea and wind and war - prize, duty, everything he had worked for . Away from land, from admiralty and politics, bureaucracy, favouritism and society. Back at sea, where he would be in command and in control.
Surely loneliness would be a small price to pay.
~
Dinner, Jack felt as he filled their glasses with wine again, was a most splendid thing. He had at first been cross that they had not been served the dishes he'd ordered, when he had so carefully ordered in Spanish, but he did not need to know their names to enjoy the meal, and smiled fondly at Maturin as he urged him to have some more of the mutton. Despite his odd looks his new friend proved to be entertaining company indeed, even more so after the taste of solitude Jack had felt earlier. As he had suspected Maturin was somewhat of a learned man, told Jack that there were two Spanish languages, knew them both, could compare Italian and Portuguese, knew in fact the Latin and Spanish (both of them) names of every dish, and knew all that without any air of affectedness, endearingly unassuming. Jack found himself more and more interested in Maturin, and, thankfully satisfying his curiosity, Maturin volunteered that he had grown up in the area, had indeed all but been a local during his youth - probably thinking his knowledge of the Spanish as natural as Jack his of life at sea -, attended university in Ireland in all places, had an interest in every plant and bird and bug that lived, and returned to Minorca for the sake of studying them.
And he was a doctor. Not even a mere surgeon even, but a physician (he seemed particular about that distinction, and Jack knew to respect rank). And Sophie lacking a surgeon.
'I think I should have had you run aboard and kept under hatches till we were at sea. My poor Sophie has no surgeon and there is no likelihood of finding her one. Come, sir, cannot I prevail upon you to go to sea?'
To have both a surgeon and a friend on board, as close to an equal as one could get on a man-of-war, someone to not only follow his cues but offer conversation, music, to distract Jack from the burden of command, to spend long nights with sharing meals and each other's company. On Sophie with jack would be the very place for Maturin to be, would it not? At the very least he would see more of his birds, and there was always the possibility of prize-money.
And much to Jack's delight the man's greatest reserve was the question of his qualification! He did his utmost to reassure the doctor that he would be more than competent enough, and not much ceremony was needed at all. When Maturin confessed that circumstances had left him in need of immediate employment and Jack's offer very much tempted him, Jack, not wanting to take advantage of someone he came to consider a friend, but unable to refrain from grasping at this opportunity, persuaded him to come aboard the next day.
He had decided to take Stephen Maturin to Cagliari with him. It would be just the thing for both of them.
~
Additional A/N: And then I took a look at my playlist for this (Seether - FMLYHM, Three Days Grace - I Hate (Everything About You), Skunk Anansie - Hedonism (Just Because You Feel Good), Billy Talent - Voices of Violence, Nickelback - Figured You Out, Violent Femmes - Do You Really Want To Hurt me, Seether (again) - Fake It, and Puddle of Mudd - Control), noticed a little voice in the back of my mind mumbling about abuse of power, Stephen being dependant on Jack, alpha males, and PO'B failing to have them duel, and scared myself into stopping here.