A/N: I started this story with the intent of probing the depths of Aubrey
and Maturin's friendship. Expounding upon how each would deal under the
strain of a mortal situation but instead it ended up being a lot lighter
than I intended. Rather than being deeply moving it became what I can only
begin to describe as "cute." Ah well.
Please keep in mind that this story was not made under the intentions of a slash pairing: it is about a friendship that does not extend beyond a friendship because as far as the love for another goes, it does not need to for it is strong enough within itself.
I've often prided myself on having a rather iron constitution even in the most harrowing of situations. As a surgeon aboard of a man-of-war it is quite important that I have the ability to perpetually interact with some of the ugliest and mortal of all injuries and sicknesses on a daily basis. I do myself no great justice in objectively stating that I have bowels of steel having withstood even the harshest of seas, the tallest of waves and the foulest of weather. And yet it would be folly to state that this particular storm has not most definitely overcome even my noble fortitude. And even if I had a mind for folly in my current condition there would be no deceiving even the most brainless of fools for no healthy man has yet to lose his lunch to the sea. The skin of the healthy man is not this deathly pallor tinged with green nor is it cold and moist to the touch. Even dulled by a small tincture of laudanum the ache of my stomach drove me to extreme measures.
Jack has often reminded me that learned man though I am I have not the mind of a sailor. Perhaps it was this lack of nautical knowledge that persuaded me to totter to the deck with the vague thought that the fresh sea air would do me a world of good. Perhaps it was the fact that most of my sanity had fled in face of my extreme discomfort that had given me the least impression that a man in my condition and of my reputation deserved to muck around on deck in the midst of a raging storm.
In any case, I opened the hatch and to my immense surprise found I could barely breathe due to the mixture of rain and seawater that spewed gratuitously from above and gushed dangerously about the deck. Ah, yes, come to think of it I guess it does tend to rain during most storms at sea. Actually, during most storms at all. A minor setback, a simple slip of the memory due to my sickness. I suppose I could blame my next momentary lapse of judgment on my condition as well for despite my distressing discovery I labored my way onto the heaving deck all the same and flopped unceremoniously onto the soggy planks. The sudden piercing cold of the air cleared my laudanum-dulled senses and I chose the worst moment possible to realize my error. Why, that is a fine large wave, sure. A wave worthy of the lore and legend that for ages shrouded the sea in mystery. Oh dear.
There's something uncommonly amusing about this type of situation once the danger has passed and now looking back I find the notion of my expression in face of sudden realization quite a humorous thought. Well, now it seems humorous but at the time my tortured mind had room for only one complex emotion and it was not at all pleasant. Mostly it was the fear of the thought of being flung from the ship and dying in a most unflattering way, sputtering and crying for aid. The rest of it was a most extreme and painful resentment of my own stupidity. At no time did I actually consider moving or grabbing a hold of something sturdy. This again I will blame on a laudanum haze and extreme fatigue.
There was then the dubious sensation of being plucked up like a doll and flung head first towards the water. I must inform you that if you ever contrive to be thrown at great speeds into the sea you must do your best not to land on your face for it is a rather uncomfortable experience. At this point I didn't know whether I was up or down but by some miracle ended up floundering about on the surface. Suddenly I was gripped with an all too real and painful fear. I was going to die.
At one time I may have been glad to die and leave the colorlessness of existence behind. Now, however, I had found my passion, my drive for life and I had no intention what so ever of leaving this world quite yet. At least not quietly.
"Help! Man overboard! Help me!" I roared at the top of my lungs as I was tossed about by merciless waves.
"Man overboard!" The cry resounded along the decks and a variety of buoyant though quite useless items fell in a shower from the deck. "The doctor! The doctor's fallen overboard!" Clinging to a small barrel I watched with a faint hope as the ship moved further and further away. Surely Jack my steadfast friend would save me. Surely the man I had devoted so much of my time and heart to would not simply allow me to float away into this endless expanse? When had Jack ever failed me?
And yet as the distance lengthened and no man made a move other than to toss a few more things overboard in a chillingly halfhearted fashion I began to recognize reason. It was then that I knew in my heart that there would be no heroic rescue; no man, not even one as heroic as Captain Jack Aubrey would dare risk the dangers of the sea for the life of a single man no matter how close that man may have been to him. Jack could not justify deserting his crew. And yet even as I told myself this something inside of me tore desperately at my heart. Friendship, even one as strong as I imagined ours had been, had not withstood the mortal strain of probable death.
"You are being unreasonable." I told myself. "Friendship is no cause to sacrifice the welfare of an entire assembly of sailors who depend on their captain for their survival. He does what is right and you are being a selfish brute. You can not possibly ask him to do such a thing for you."
Friendship? A tiny voice inside of me exclaimed vehemently. Friendship? You call this friendship? What friend would stand safe and almighty aboard his ship sending his friend to a pitiless death? No friend would do such a thing. He never was your friend, that Jack Aubrey. Following immediately after this mental statement came a flood of memories, of disappointments, and of arguments. And I admit that I believed it for the sight of him standing aboard simply watching me fade into the storm was much too disappointing a thing to argue with. A sight that was quickly obscured by blackness as I sank.
"That was a very un-Navy like thing to do. A fine rescue but most un- Captain like.
"Shut up, you great bloody swab! You trying to wake 'em both?"
"He's comin' round now, I think."
"The Captain or the Doctor?"
"The Doctor, sir."
The sound of harsh voices pulled me inexorably away from the dark comfort of my dreams. I became acutely aware of the urge to retch and so I did so bringing forth a surprising amount of bile and seawater. Vaguely I mused that I did not remember having had the amount of time required to swallow so great a quantity.
"Easy does it now, sir." The voice was familiar and reaching toward it I identified it with a slight feeling of triumph as that of Barret Bondon's. Rain was falling upon my face and I opened my eyes to find myself pitching aboard the ship's deck. Crowded around me was the majority of the crew looking both concerned and relieved at once; quite an extraordinary feat.
"How-?" I began amidst spasms of wet coughing that brought up more seawater from my aching lungs.
"Which it was the Captain, sir. Most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Dove in after you like one of those diving gulls off the coast of-"
I cut him off. "The Captain?"
"Why, yes sir! Soon as he saw you go under he leapt in after you. Swam like the very hounds of hell were at his ankles. Never seen anything like it." The man shook his head in disbelief. "We thought he was dead for sure but you know Lucky Jack, sir, he don't never say die. Course, its against Navy regiment to do such a thing. We might have to keep it hush, hush if you know what I mean."
A low moan tore my attention from Bonden and by a great force of will I flipped myself over to find Jack leaning heavily against the deck railing by my side. Seeing that I was awake he insantly began to mutter under his breath.
"Bloody surgeons mucking about on deck...told him time after time...shouldn't be allowed near a ship...ought to wring his bloody neck."
"Jack, my dear," I said, struggling to grasp his hand, which was limp with shock and fatigue. "I fear I have proved myself a terrible inconvenience. Do accept my humblest apologizes. From the bottom of my heart-"
"Get him below!" He bellowed with all the appearance of extreme rage, ignoring me completely. "The great lubber!" And yet despite these words I caught the ghost of a smile hovering about my Captain's lips and this small curvature of the lips said all that needed to be said.
"Always, joy," It said. "Always."
Please keep in mind that this story was not made under the intentions of a slash pairing: it is about a friendship that does not extend beyond a friendship because as far as the love for another goes, it does not need to for it is strong enough within itself.
I've often prided myself on having a rather iron constitution even in the most harrowing of situations. As a surgeon aboard of a man-of-war it is quite important that I have the ability to perpetually interact with some of the ugliest and mortal of all injuries and sicknesses on a daily basis. I do myself no great justice in objectively stating that I have bowels of steel having withstood even the harshest of seas, the tallest of waves and the foulest of weather. And yet it would be folly to state that this particular storm has not most definitely overcome even my noble fortitude. And even if I had a mind for folly in my current condition there would be no deceiving even the most brainless of fools for no healthy man has yet to lose his lunch to the sea. The skin of the healthy man is not this deathly pallor tinged with green nor is it cold and moist to the touch. Even dulled by a small tincture of laudanum the ache of my stomach drove me to extreme measures.
Jack has often reminded me that learned man though I am I have not the mind of a sailor. Perhaps it was this lack of nautical knowledge that persuaded me to totter to the deck with the vague thought that the fresh sea air would do me a world of good. Perhaps it was the fact that most of my sanity had fled in face of my extreme discomfort that had given me the least impression that a man in my condition and of my reputation deserved to muck around on deck in the midst of a raging storm.
In any case, I opened the hatch and to my immense surprise found I could barely breathe due to the mixture of rain and seawater that spewed gratuitously from above and gushed dangerously about the deck. Ah, yes, come to think of it I guess it does tend to rain during most storms at sea. Actually, during most storms at all. A minor setback, a simple slip of the memory due to my sickness. I suppose I could blame my next momentary lapse of judgment on my condition as well for despite my distressing discovery I labored my way onto the heaving deck all the same and flopped unceremoniously onto the soggy planks. The sudden piercing cold of the air cleared my laudanum-dulled senses and I chose the worst moment possible to realize my error. Why, that is a fine large wave, sure. A wave worthy of the lore and legend that for ages shrouded the sea in mystery. Oh dear.
There's something uncommonly amusing about this type of situation once the danger has passed and now looking back I find the notion of my expression in face of sudden realization quite a humorous thought. Well, now it seems humorous but at the time my tortured mind had room for only one complex emotion and it was not at all pleasant. Mostly it was the fear of the thought of being flung from the ship and dying in a most unflattering way, sputtering and crying for aid. The rest of it was a most extreme and painful resentment of my own stupidity. At no time did I actually consider moving or grabbing a hold of something sturdy. This again I will blame on a laudanum haze and extreme fatigue.
There was then the dubious sensation of being plucked up like a doll and flung head first towards the water. I must inform you that if you ever contrive to be thrown at great speeds into the sea you must do your best not to land on your face for it is a rather uncomfortable experience. At this point I didn't know whether I was up or down but by some miracle ended up floundering about on the surface. Suddenly I was gripped with an all too real and painful fear. I was going to die.
At one time I may have been glad to die and leave the colorlessness of existence behind. Now, however, I had found my passion, my drive for life and I had no intention what so ever of leaving this world quite yet. At least not quietly.
"Help! Man overboard! Help me!" I roared at the top of my lungs as I was tossed about by merciless waves.
"Man overboard!" The cry resounded along the decks and a variety of buoyant though quite useless items fell in a shower from the deck. "The doctor! The doctor's fallen overboard!" Clinging to a small barrel I watched with a faint hope as the ship moved further and further away. Surely Jack my steadfast friend would save me. Surely the man I had devoted so much of my time and heart to would not simply allow me to float away into this endless expanse? When had Jack ever failed me?
And yet as the distance lengthened and no man made a move other than to toss a few more things overboard in a chillingly halfhearted fashion I began to recognize reason. It was then that I knew in my heart that there would be no heroic rescue; no man, not even one as heroic as Captain Jack Aubrey would dare risk the dangers of the sea for the life of a single man no matter how close that man may have been to him. Jack could not justify deserting his crew. And yet even as I told myself this something inside of me tore desperately at my heart. Friendship, even one as strong as I imagined ours had been, had not withstood the mortal strain of probable death.
"You are being unreasonable." I told myself. "Friendship is no cause to sacrifice the welfare of an entire assembly of sailors who depend on their captain for their survival. He does what is right and you are being a selfish brute. You can not possibly ask him to do such a thing for you."
Friendship? A tiny voice inside of me exclaimed vehemently. Friendship? You call this friendship? What friend would stand safe and almighty aboard his ship sending his friend to a pitiless death? No friend would do such a thing. He never was your friend, that Jack Aubrey. Following immediately after this mental statement came a flood of memories, of disappointments, and of arguments. And I admit that I believed it for the sight of him standing aboard simply watching me fade into the storm was much too disappointing a thing to argue with. A sight that was quickly obscured by blackness as I sank.
"That was a very un-Navy like thing to do. A fine rescue but most un- Captain like.
"Shut up, you great bloody swab! You trying to wake 'em both?"
"He's comin' round now, I think."
"The Captain or the Doctor?"
"The Doctor, sir."
The sound of harsh voices pulled me inexorably away from the dark comfort of my dreams. I became acutely aware of the urge to retch and so I did so bringing forth a surprising amount of bile and seawater. Vaguely I mused that I did not remember having had the amount of time required to swallow so great a quantity.
"Easy does it now, sir." The voice was familiar and reaching toward it I identified it with a slight feeling of triumph as that of Barret Bondon's. Rain was falling upon my face and I opened my eyes to find myself pitching aboard the ship's deck. Crowded around me was the majority of the crew looking both concerned and relieved at once; quite an extraordinary feat.
"How-?" I began amidst spasms of wet coughing that brought up more seawater from my aching lungs.
"Which it was the Captain, sir. Most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Dove in after you like one of those diving gulls off the coast of-"
I cut him off. "The Captain?"
"Why, yes sir! Soon as he saw you go under he leapt in after you. Swam like the very hounds of hell were at his ankles. Never seen anything like it." The man shook his head in disbelief. "We thought he was dead for sure but you know Lucky Jack, sir, he don't never say die. Course, its against Navy regiment to do such a thing. We might have to keep it hush, hush if you know what I mean."
A low moan tore my attention from Bonden and by a great force of will I flipped myself over to find Jack leaning heavily against the deck railing by my side. Seeing that I was awake he insantly began to mutter under his breath.
"Bloody surgeons mucking about on deck...told him time after time...shouldn't be allowed near a ship...ought to wring his bloody neck."
"Jack, my dear," I said, struggling to grasp his hand, which was limp with shock and fatigue. "I fear I have proved myself a terrible inconvenience. Do accept my humblest apologizes. From the bottom of my heart-"
"Get him below!" He bellowed with all the appearance of extreme rage, ignoring me completely. "The great lubber!" And yet despite these words I caught the ghost of a smile hovering about my Captain's lips and this small curvature of the lips said all that needed to be said.
"Always, joy," It said. "Always."