A/N: This chapter is quite long and is broken up a little differently than usual. This may not pose any difficulty for some of you, but others may find themselves slightly lost. If it helps, think of it as the music montage chapter, in which we cover many separate scenes in brief snippets. Were this truly a music montage, my suggestion for the background music would be "Let Love In" by the Goo Goo Dolls, from which the chapter gets its name. Hope you enjoy!)
CHAPTER 17: "THE END, I FEAR, IS WHERE WE BEGIN"
Jim was utterly unable to concentrate.
He'd gotten through his basic duties on autopilot, and had kept Nick at bay for the majority of the day. A few tasks, and then she was Silver's responsibility. He'd skipped lunch, and stayed clear of the galley. He went back to his room at one point to just take a moment to breathe normally again.
It had been his idea. He knew that. He'd started the whole thing by kissing her. But honestly, she'd pushed him to do it. And then she had kissed him. So it was her fault. Kind of. No, it was definitely his fault. So why, if it was his fault, and his idea, why in the name of all things good and holy was he having such a hard time keeping it together?
It wasn't that he couldn't look at her without thinking about kissing her. It wasn't that he couldn't look at her without wanting to cross the room and be at her side.
It was that he couldn't look at her without seeing a girl.
He couldn't look at her without seeing the curve of her lower lip, the little curl in her hair just behind her ear, the fact that her feet didn't fit those boots and that her hands were far too small. Everything he thought he'd trained himself to ignore about her, in order to protect her, was suddenly painfully obvious. And the memory of hugging her tightly and promising to keep her safe was equally strong.
He took a deep breath in, and closed his eyes as he exhaled. That promise meant so much to both of them. If he focused on that, he could do this.
Nick hurried through her work that afternoon, avoiding Jim and seeking time with the crew. She found that she avoided him almost as much after their newfound closeness as she had when she thought he hated her. When she avoided him, and tucked herself away in conversations with Silver, and Moder and Joche, and even in silence, alone, in her work, she felt safer in her skin. When Jim wasn't around, she could feel safer in general. She could be the cabin boy and not feel awkward or uncomfortable. It didn't feel like as much of a lie.
But Jim made her want it to be a lie. They were making so much trouble for themselves, but she wanted so badly for the charade to be over, for the mission to be over, so that they could quit with furtive looks and awkward smiles and stiff conversation when other people were around. She'd never been one for romance novels or happily-ever-afters, but Jim made her want to go back and give those fairy tales a second look.
She left the galley halfway through dinner, feeling exhausted and strained and unable to eat much. Ishmael only too willingly finished her plate for her, though he gave her a guilty look as he did it. She avoided their room too, taking advantage of a clear night to climb into the shrouds a ways and watch the stars pass by. She could lose herself in those stars. The sky was so big and bright and clear…
She must have dozed off, leaning against the ropes, staring out into the sky. The bells signaling a change of watch roused her from her perch, and she found that she'd twined herself into the ropes to keep from crashing to the deck, and now had to extricate sleep-clumsy limbs and pick her way down the lines. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stifled a yawn as she shuffled back to their room, Ishmael trotting at her side and bumping into her to keep her from walking into the walls.
Jim was sitting on the bed, papers scattered hither and thither, poring over a map and looking horribly frustrated. She wasn't awake enough for butterflies yet, and just smirked at him.
"Why don't you do that at a desk?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at the map. Ishmael flopped down against his side with a happy little whuff.
"I used to. Now I have a hammock there instead," he replied dryly.
"Ah, I see. I have a hammock," she corrected, sitting down beside him. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine. I usually work in the captain's stateroom anyway."
"Why not tonight?"
"It's overtime," he sighed, flipping through a stack of reports. "Were you going to sleep?"
"I just took a nap, so I don't know if I'll be able to," she admitted, still looking over his shoulder. "What is all this?"
"Classified. Don't read it. I'm not supposed to even have it out where you can see it. You're a civ, remember?"
She laughed and got up to stretch and get ready to sleep. "But a civ who knows how to keep secrets," she pointed out.
"That much I do know." he agreed, grinning. He moved over to make room for her beside him, closing up some of the paperwork. "How was your day?"
"It was okay. How was yours?"
"Same as it has been. I spent it steering clear of you," he teased her.
"Ouch. Thanks for that."
"Well, it was better today, because I let myself think you'd actually be a little bit happy to see me when we got back here," he admitted, nudging her shoulder and grinning down at her.
She actually blushed. "If I admit that I was, will it go right to your head?"
"I'll try to make sure it doesn't," he grinned, putting his arm around her.
Nick sat in the galley, polishing the silver they used to serve the princess and singing under her breath. It was a little pub tune, something everyone in every port in the Empire could sing, so it wasn't long before she caught Silver singing it along with her. She looked up with a smirk, especially when he caught himself and scowled over at her.
"What? It's me favorite," she drawled, in the old pub-girl accent she'd worked hard to lose. Now it sounded like a mix of her own drawl and his brogue.
"Quit singin' and get back t'work," he growled, shaking his head. That girl had been floating on air all day, and it was getting on his last nerve. He didn't care a whit if she gave herself away being giddy, he was damn near to throwing her overboard himself. If there was anything that made him crankier than the stupid girlishness of this "first love" business, he hadn't encountered it yet.
She felt his frustration and made a face at him. "I know you don't like that I'm happy right now," she said quietly.
"An' what gave yeh dat idea?" he scoffed, slamming a pot of vegetables on the counter.
"I don't blame you. We're being stupid and we know it. But you and I do really have the same priorities," she said quietly.
"S'at so?" he drawled, turning around with his hands on his hips.
She nodded. "I don't want to become any more of a problem than I already am. This is how he and I have found it easiest to deal with things. But I expect that you wouldn't hesitate to remove any threat to him. I'm actually counting on it. If I need to be removed, he won't be any help. You'd be my only chance at keeping him free and clear."
He took a moment to mull that over, eyeing her up carefully. Then he nodded brusquely and turned back to his chopping. "Yer damn right."
She almost grinned. Peace had been tentatively restored.
Jim heard the door open, and shut again, and rolled over to face the wall. He'd had a double watch last night, and he had no desire to acknowledge the daylight.
"It's past noon," she said in a stage whisper, creeping up to the side of the bed.
"Go away," he growled.
Her laugh didn't help. "It's time to get up," she whispered in the same voice.
"Not yet," he growled back, wrapping his pillow around his head.
"You're cranky today," she observed, and he heard her squat down beside the bunk. Ishmael's tail thumped Jim's ankle excitedly, which explained some of the warm bulk Jim had been wondering about a moment before.
"Well, sunshine, we can't all be morning people," he croaked, muffled by the pillow surrounding his head.
"No, you're definitely not," she agreed, laughing again. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I brought you coffee. Just the way you like it.."
He heard a mug clink down on the shelf by the bunk, and then she left. Ishmael jumped down to follow, with a loud thump. The door shut gently behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening. After about forty five seconds, he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep this morning.
He dragged himself up out of the bed and tugged on a shirt. He yawned and stretched and ran a hand through hair that stood straight up before turning to look for the promised coffee.
The moment he touched the chipped, white mug, three things registered with him. One, that the mug was cold. Two, that there was no coffee smell emanating from it. And three, that Nick had never brought him coffee before.
Ever.
A second later, he shut his eyes and sighed. The nerve of that girl sometimes.
In his hand was a mug full of sugar, with a spoon stuck cheerfully in the middle.
That was the thing, Moder thought to himself. You had to know where you stood with a man. Otherwise you'd never be able to survive on a ship. There was more to it than rank, but only in a sideways sort of way. There was your rank, and then there was what those above you thought of you. It seemed to him that they were equally important.
The cabin boy didn't really seem to get it.
Admittedly, he wasn't part of the Navy. Just this crew. But no matter how well he did his work, his attitude toward the first mate was going to cause trouble.
"You know, the captain's going to notice eventually," he offered one night over a game of cards.
"Notice what?" Joche asked, after a moment's pause in which Nick studiously ignored the comment.
"That the cabin boy has copped an attitude. I've seen how you're acting around Hawkins. You're making trouble for yourself," he cautioned.
The boy's eyes flashed, but he merely shrugged. "I'm not a kiss-ass. I've never been a kiss-ass. And if I don't get along with someone, I've never seen the point in pretending I do. Don't act surprised," he scoffed. "I don't need him to like me, so forgive me if I don't give a shit. It's not like i have a future in the navy."
Moder shook his head again, and threw down his cards. "Whatever. I'm not your mother. If you wanna burn bridges, be my guest."
Nick gave him a tiny, smug smirk. "Thanks, mum."
Moder rolled his eyes and got up for another drink. Nick chuckled and laid down his cards, winning the round (to the dismay of the others) before retiring for the night.
"How was the game?" Jim asked, looking up from the sheaf of papers he was sorting through on the bed.
"I won," she smirked, positively beaming with something he wasn't quite sure he could identify.
"Did you win more than you lost?" he clarified. She laughed and shrugged out of her jacket.
"Yes. And I got some excellent advice," she grinned, moving to lean over the papers and kiss him lightly. "Apparently I'm going to burn some bridges if I don't start warming up to the first mate. Moder is worried I'm being an insubordinate ass.."
His smile spread like warm honey. "That's very good news... I mean, advice. What did you say?"
She laughed again. "I believe my words were: I'm not a kiss-ass, and I've never been a kiss-ass, and I don't particularly give a shit if the first mate likes me."
He was smiling as he kissed her again. "Liar."
She smirked. "I know. I'm terrible."
"Oh my stars," Alanna declared, eyeing Nick head to toe. "You're in love with him, you little minx!"
Nick flushed deeply and looked around, but the maids carried on their conspicuously loud conversation, so it seemed no one was likely to overhear.
"Not... not in love," she protested weakly. "Just... strong mutual like..."
Alanna just sat back in her chair, staring in awe. "I can't believe you...this is like something out of a story."
Nick shrugged uncomfortably. "Not really. Unless you mean a story about really dumb decisions." She sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I mean, so far it's fine. But it can't end well, can it?"
A pregnant silence hovered for quite some time. Alanna eventually sat up a little. "It's too soon to tell," she declared.
"Definitely not a fairy tale, then," Nick grimaced.
"It could be," Alanna protested, trying to sound positive. "You could make it work. You just have to be careful. Plan a little bit..."
Nick gave her a little look. "I seriously don't think we'll manage to make it last. Think about it!"
Alana scoffed and sat back. "Well, if you think it won't work, why don't you just cut your losses?"
The silence that followed could only be described as stunned.
"Point taken," Nick grumbled.
"Thank you. But really, what are you going to do?" she asked.
"I don't know. I really don't know. I can't see how we can possibly expect it to work, but I keep hoping it will anyway. I can't... I don't know what I'd do without him..."
Alanna felt a hot swoop of envy in her gut. The cabin boy had fallen in love with the first mate, and he loved her back enough to risk his career to be with her for whatever short time they had...
It was so romantic she could puke.
Meanwhile, she'd have a year-long wedding celebration with a man she had never met, and be expected to announce an impending heir by the anniversary. Joy. Just what every princess wants her fairy tale ending to look like.
"Well you'll just have to cross that bridge when you come to it. For now, all you can do is enjoy each day that you have," she offered.
Nick sighed. "You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself..."
"Exactly. Just be grateful you're safe and together today. Tomorrow is its own battle," she added, quoting her grandmother.
That earned a grin. "My… the woman who raised me used to say that. She said she got it from my mother. I was much older when I realized she was repeating the Empress."
The earlier envy faded in the wake of a sharp pang of loss. "She was an incredible woman. Your mother had good tastes," she tried to joke.
Nick smiled weakly, and sighed a little. "How are you holding up?"
Now Alanna stiffened up and looked coolly across at Nick. "A princess never shows fear," she pronounced, the friendly girl melting away into the new Empress. "Now, which book was it you wanted to borrow?"
She didn't even flinch when he opened the door, so engrossed was she in the enormous tome she had curled herself around in her bunk. He peeked over, got no response, and smirked.
His greeting went unanswered. Taking off his jacket didn't merit a response. Dropping a hint about getting ready for bed was ignored. Not even bumping intentionally into the hammock merited acknowledgment. It wasn't until he turned down the light that he got a cry of dismay and a barrage of protest.
"What did you do that for? It was just getting to the best part!" she demanded, trying to extend her arm the extra six inches it would need to reach around him and get to the lamp.
"Because I couldn't get your attention any other way..." he smirked.
"Sure you could have! C'mon, I'll lose my place! Jim! Turn the light on!" she protested.
"It's almost midnight! Why are you even still up?"
"I couldn't put it down... Don't laugh, I mean it!"
"I didn't figure you for much of a reader," he admitted, turning the lamp back up.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, curling back up.
He lifted one shoulder. "Do you read much? It didn't sound like you had time."
"I didn't. But my mother taught me... She used to read to everyone, on her nights off, and every night, once she was sick..." she told him absently, diving back into her book.
He leaned over to kiss her hair and left her alone with her book.
Nick stood in front of the tiny mirror Jim used to shave, holding her hair back to see how long it was getting. It was an embarrassingly feminine temptation, one that she almost always had in control (along with brushing her hair, and washing it more than once a week), but Jim had commented on how long it was getting, and she'd have to cut it soon... She could almost pin it up now, but a few curls still fell to hang on either side of her face.
Suddenly he slid up behind her, laying a quick kiss on her exposed neck and making her jump. "I like that," he praised. "You look pretty..."
She flushed and dropped her scraggly hair, not having realized he was paying any attention. "I, uh, I just really need a haircut," she said quickly, turning around to shy away from the incriminating mirror. She knew he saw her as a girl, and liked her even though she did her best to look like a boy, but then her mind ran away with her common sense and she wanted so badly to drop all the pretenses. Which was a horrible decision, and there was no room for thinking like that, and she would wind up just feeling conflicted and a little dizzy.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her back around to face him. "Hey, stop. I meant that as a good thing, y'know. Last I checked, pretty still qualified as a compliment.."
"It does. Thank you. I just can't think like that now. Here. I have to be the Nick-the-cabin-boy," she protested.
"Can I just talk to Nick-the-girl for a minute?" he asked softly, his hands spanning her back and keeping her close against him.
She couldn't help a smile. "Just for a minute..."
He kissed her forehead, smiling down. "I always think you're pretty. I like you like this, like a boy. Not that I like boys," he added hastily, flushing and getting clumsy. "I just mean I don't care... So why do you care?"
She blinked, then lifted one shoulder. "I don't. I can't. It's hard to be two people at once. I can't think about how to do my hair and what you think of how I look... There just isn't room in me. And when you say something... It's all I can think about. It makes a girl out of me, and suddenly I wish I could just be myself again, and that's the worst thing in the universe for me to be right now."
He sighed and loosened his hold on her. "I'm sorry I said you looked pretty," he said in a low voice, and she caught a spark of a smirk.
"Oh, shut up!" she laughed, smacking his arm and pulling away to get to work before he could try anything else.
Nick looked up from her book as he walked in the door, watched him silently as he shrugged out of his coat, and noticed not for the first time as his shoulders dropped, his back slouched slightly, and he sighed like he was exhausted. He shook it off, straightening up and becoming himself again.
"Why do you do that?" she asked, shutting her book
"Do what?" he asked, tossing his coat on the bunk.
"You take off the 'first mate' like a coat. You come in and you relax, and you stop being the first mate and you start being Jim. And in the morning, you put on the coat and the medals and the first mate, and sometimes I don't see Jim again until after dark," she pointed out. "It's… odd."
"What, I can't relax after work?" he asked, feeling defensive.
"I'm not saying that.. It's just… you know how you have to ask to talk to Nick-the-girl? It's the same thing.. you're two people too," she grinned.
"I am not. I'm Jim Hawkins, and being the first mate is a job," he protested, feeling uncomfortable as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "I'm not two different people, I'm just on duty."
She shrugged a little and set her book aside, climbing out of the hammock and going over to stand between his knees and pat him on the shoulder. "Okay, I take it back. It's just a job."
He nodded curtly, putting an arm around her waist loosely. Her words had gotten into his skull, and bounced around and now were ringing in his ears. He didn't like it. But it was fact. He did have to change to be the first mate, and act differently. He had to act in Nick's best interests.
But he refused to believe he was two different men.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed his temple. "I take it back," she repeated.
"You're forgiven," he said lightly, hugging her tighter.
The ruckus on deck was unbelievable. Nick couldn't believe how tense the men seemed. The captain had come down after mess that morning and addressed the whole crew, but she'd been scrubbing pots and pans until well after they'd all cleared out, and hadn't managed to hear much of what was said. But ever since, the men had seemed to be on a hair trigger, looking around watchfully and seeming more brusque and short with each other than usual. She had gone out on the deck to swab when she was done washing dishes, and now stood watching warily as they seemed to be rearranging the deck entirely.
"Untie those casks, cabin boy," the man bellowed, pointing her to a group of barrels against the rail.
She nodded, dropping the mop and bucket into the corner, and darting over to try to untie the ropes from the metal rings in the boards of the deck. The barrels had been abovedecks for storage, but apparently the majority of supplies stored on deck were being moved down into storage in the prow. She supposed they'd used up a lot of their supplies by now.
Nick knelt down to examine the ropes. Gunner's knot. She took a deep breath, and blew her hair out of her face. These were difficult to untie in the best of circumstances. Her fingers scrabbled across the ropes, but to no avail. They'd pulled tight after all these months... did they really expect her to be able to untie these?
She got back to her feet. "May I cut these?" she asked, pulling her knife from her boot.
The man looked back at her, then over her head. "Your call, Hawkins," he shrugged.
Jim appeared at her side, peering around to look at the ropes. "You could use the practice, cabin boy," he shrugged, pointing at the barrels.
She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again. Moder wasn't going to be able to tell her she was being uncooperative. She'd be downright friendly. She shoved the knife back into her boot top sheath and took a step back. "I can't untie them. I don't know if the rope's fused or what, but I can't get them."
He knelt down and ran his fingers over the knots, testing the tension of the rope and the state of the fibers. "Here, bring your knife," he instructed, and she squatted down beside him and offered him the knife.
"I thought I wasn't supposed to cut it," she protested, fighting hard to keep the smirk off her lips.
"You lose less rope if you cut the riding turn—the bit that crosses over the top—and then it's as good as untied," he pointed out, easily slicing the rope and handing the knife back. She tucked it away absently as she watched his hands deftly eased the knot loose, and eventually the ropes slid free. "You try the next one," he said, pointing to the other ring.
She tugged the knife out of her boot, going around the barrels to trim and untie the knot, working it free from the metal ring. "Very nice," she agreed, getting back to her feet and coiling the ropes back up. "Thank you, sir."
"My pleasure," he grinned, giving her a little smile and heading back to his task.
Jim woke to a sharp cry, a thump, and muffled gasps and shuffling.
"Jim. Jim," she hissed, shaking his arm.
His only reply was to groan and hide his face in his pillow.
"No, Jim, please," she whispered, and now he heard tears. "It happened again, it happened, the nightmare, and they're everywhere, I can feel them, and I can't stay in here, I can't sleep, Jim, they're everywhere, I-"
He shut her up by very suddenly reaching out to grab her around the waist, sitting up and pulling her down into his lap all in one motion.
She was shaking all over, trembling and trying to catch her breath, and he folded her in his arms and tucked her under his chin. "It's fine, sunshine. It's okay.. They can't get you," he soothed, leaning back on the wall and laying his chin on her hair, eyes still closed.
She hiccupped and her stifled sob hitched. It took a few minutes of rubbing her back before her body relaxed against him and her breathing slowed.
He sighed and relaxed with her tucked into his chest, almost asleep again when she stirred and shifted and he jumped awake. He looked down at her, curled up in his arms, settled against his chest, and for a moment he could be honest... He really started to wonder sometimes if he loved her. This wasn't just a passing feeling. He couldn't tell himself it was a phase. It wasn't fading. What was he going to do?
He kissed her hair and uncurled enough to carry her over to her hammock and lay her down. He hated that she was having nightmares, but he didn't really mind comforting her. He felt strong, powerful, like there was actually something he could protect her from.
It was maybe the only thing he could protect her from.
Nick let herself into the room, stopping short when she saw the paperwork scattered in haphazard piles around the floor again. Jim sat against the side of the bunk in the center of the mess, a file open in his lap and his focus intense. Ishmael was at his feet, curled up under the hammock, and looked up with a thump of his tail when she came in. "It's like a minefield," she commented with a grin, kicking off her boots to tiptoe barefoot around the piles and hop over his outstretched legs.
"Don't touch anything," he warned, not looking up from riffling through the papers in a hasty cross-reference, even when she ruffled his hair using his head for balance on her way past. Ishmael laid his head back down in obedience.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she smirked, reaching down to heft her book from her hammock. Well, since he'd claimed the floor, it seemed only fair that the bed was fair game…
She hopped up and sat cross legged on his bed, opening her book open in her lap, and commenced quietly reading. Sometime later, he laid his head back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. She leaned in and looked over his shoulder to spy on the paperwork
"What are these?" she asked, reaching down to point out the red circles on the map.
"I can't tell you," he said dully.
She pushed the book aside and bent over, bracing her elbows on the bed and putting her chin on her hands. "Not even a hint?"
"Nope," he agreed, still looking up. A little smile tugged at his lips.
"You do realize I could lean over and read them, right?"
"Yup," he said, in the same tone.
"So you just can't tell me?" she asked, grinning.
"Yup."
"Will it always be like that?"
He turned his head, looking up at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I dunno," she shrugged. "Will you always have this secretive job that you can't really talk about with anyone? Doesn't that bother you?"
"I've never thought about it… honestly, there's never been anyone to tell," he admitted. "No one asks."
"Why not?" she wondered.
"Because they don't want to know, I guess."
She uncurled and laid out on her stomach on the bed. "I think it would be weird."
He turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"
"I think it would be weird," she repeated. "If you had so much of your life that you didn't talk about. I'd hate that."
"What?" he repeated, still lost trying to follow her.
She blushed. "I just mean… after this is over. When you have a mission, and I can't tag along… I'm not doing this 'boy' thing again, that's for damn sure."
He felt a smile rise up from his chest to settle on his face, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. She responded with a grin, scooting closer to settle her chin on his shoulder and sling her arms around his chest. "I'll keep you in the loop. I'll write you letters," he grinned.
She laughed and hugged him gently. "Promise?"
"Promise."
It was her turn to kiss his scruffy cheek, and she pushed herself up to sit again. "Good. Time for dinner, boyo," she smirked, fixing his hair from her earlier touch. It wouldn't do to look disheveled…
He waved her off, running both hands through his hair to make a proper mess of it, then got to his feet. Ishmael recognized the cue for dinner, and rose to his feet to follow Jim to the door"You wanna go first?" he offered, getting his old jacket. Apparently he was going to dinner as Jim, not as the first mate.
She shook her head. "I'll count to one hundred tonight," she said with a little smile. "Gives me some time to read a little more."
He nodded and leaned over to kiss her quickly before picking his way across the minefield and head out the door. "See you later."
"See you," she agreed, curling back up on the bed with her book. She waited till she was going to be late for mess, then slipped back into hall and crept down to the galley. Hopefully no one would notice her, and she could just snag a spot at her usual table…
Once in the galley, a hand shot up from the table and waved in the air. The glint of metal on the fingers told her Moder was trying to catch her attention. She grabbed a bowl and slopped dinner into it, not really paying much attention as she grabbed a biscuit and headed for the table. There were more bodies in the room than she was used to, since she usually ate early and took off to finish her chores for the night. She wove her way through the tables and found the only empty spot on the bench Moder had indicated, made by the shifting of two bodies. She set her bowl down and started to climb over the bench, looking up to thank the man who had moved over, only to find herself staring into a very familiar pair of icy blue eyes. She stumbled, catching her foot on the bench and catching herself on the edge of the table with both hands and a loud bang. A few of the other men laughed and clapped mockingly, but she just turned bright red and sat down carefully, edging away from him slightly He rolled his eyes and turned back to his conversation about solar surfers with the man across from him.
She scowled down at her bowl, eating hastily, feeling dizzy and slightly panicky with the desire to get out of here. They had done a very, very careful job so far of making sure they didn't interact too much in public, so that they wouldn't have to lie more than necessary, or push the limits of their ability to act. This was definitely not part of the plan.
Moder kicked her boot under the table. When she looked up, he was scowling right back at her. "You are such a little girl," he hissed.
"Shut up!" she hissed back, setting her jaw.
"So, uh, Hawkins," Moder said with a little grin, stretching back a bit and folding his arms.
Jim turned to look at him, ignoring Nick completely.
"Do you think we could get the cabin boy to enlist?" he teased, earning a little attention from the others at the table.
Jim gave her a look like she was something he'd just found on the bottom of his shoe, then looked back at Moder with one eyebrow raised. "Do we want to?"
The men found that hilarious. Nick's face burned.
"Sure!" Moder laughed.
He eyed her again, like he was trying to see what they saw in this sorry figure. It was utterly disconcerting to see no recognition at all in his eyes, no spark of playfulness or joking. Her heart rose into her throat, and she tried to keep a matched look of irritation on her own face. But it was hard, when she felt the desire to plead with him to recognize her…
"I don't know. Someone's gonna have to teach him how to read," he quipped, looking up at Moder with a smirk. The men erupted with laughter, and the man on the other side of Nick elbowed her hard in his mirth.
"Not you, Roth," Joche announced, setting off another round of laughter as the man who had elbowed Nick turned red and laughed slightly less enthusiastically.
Jim turned a winning smile on his appreciative audience, who were now teasing each other and ignoring Nick. She was still red-cheeked, and her pulse was racing, but she noticed that Jim wasn't laughing with them. In fact, he'd settled himself facing away from her, looking down the table, while she stared down at her plate, arms braced at her sides to keep herself steady. It took an immense effort not to jump out of her skin when his fingers brushed over her knuckles as she gripped the bench. She couldn't even look up at him. She didn't trust herself one bit. She yanked her hand away as soon as she thought it wouldn't be obvious that she was reacting to him. She couldn't breathe. This was the most panicked she could remember ever being, outside of a nightmare.
Jim got up, taking his bowl and plate with him. "Well, I've got paperwork to do. Cabin boy, don't forget to finish up sweeping the longboat bay. I don't think you've done that yet."
She bobbed her head, taking a big bite of her dinner to keep her mouth full and not have to answer. Moder sniggered across the table, and leaned forward on folded arms. "We'll send him down. Don't worry," he laughed.
Jim nodded and turned away, dumping his bowl and cup in the basin before thumping up the stairs.
Nick rolled her eyes and pushed her food around in her bowl.
"You know he's not really hazing you, right?" Moder asked, tipping his head slightly to look into her face. She blushed and looked away again. Did she ever.
"Yeah."
"Well, stop taking everything so seriously. You're the only one around here who can't take a joke," he told her gently, but it almost sounded like a question.
"I've been trying," she admitted, adding a sigh and hoping it didn't sound too theatrical.
"Lighten up," he advised. "It'll help a lot."
"I will."
He nodded briskly, and she took her leave, setting her mostly-full bowl of food on the floor next to the basin to let Ishmael lap it up. Then she glanced around the room, estimated that she had about half an hour before the dishes would really have to be washed, and decided to venture down to the longboat hold to see if Jim was really dropping the hint she thought he was.
The stairs creaked beneath her feet, shattering the silence that pressed in around her. She was suddenly aware of the hum of the engines, the sounds of the ship moving through space... The hold was dark. What had she expected? She felt stupid, her face burning in the dark, and she kept a fumbling hand on the wall to look for the lamp as she crossed the planks to the storage closet where the broom was. No reason to waste the trip down here.
It wasn't until she was halfway across the room that she saw his shadow move, saw the hand reach out for her. She jumped back, barely suppressing a shout, and he had to lunge forward and catch her before she toppled off the planks and onto the bay doors below. He pulled her up against his chest for balance, and stepped backward to drag them both back into the shadow.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the darkness.
The briefest of pauses passed in silence before she threw her arms around his middle and hid her face in the front of his shirt. "For what?" she breathed.
He let out a little huff of a laugh. "Mostly because you are so freaked out right now," he admitted, closing his arms around her.
She felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rising up in her chest and she hugged him tighter and hid her face against his collarbones to try to smother it. A strangled half-giggle escaped her, sounding almost like it could have been a sob.
Was she crying? He pulled back to look into her face with concern, his hands sliding to rest on her hips.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, taking deep breaths a little too close together. "That… I can't believe that just happened.. We just.. and they… I can't…"
"Shh, shh…" he insisted, trying not to laugh. "Nick, shh.."
"I thought I was going to pass out," she hissed, leaning back to look up at him and moving her hands to his shoulders.
"I thought you were too," he whispered, surrendering to his laughter. "You almost jumped out of your skin when I touched your hand."
"Yeah, because you shouldn't have touched me!" she insisted with sudden anger, thumping him on the chest.
"I just... I couldn't help it," he smirked. But she pinned him with a look, and he grew serious. He smoothed his hands over her back. "No, but seriously, I am sorry. For upsetting you."
Her scowl faded and she sighed heavily. "I'm sorry too. I probably overreacted. You scared some years off my life tonight.."
"I'll try to get those back, I swear," he grinned. "Are we okay?"
She nodded, leaning into him. "I think so."
He kissed the corner of her mouth, spreading his fingers across her back and sliding his hands up a little. He was not at all in the mood to walk away right now, but he needed to. He kissed her cheek, then sighed and brushed her ear with his nose. "I have to go. I'll see you later…" he whispered.
Her hands fidgeted on his chest and he felt a little shiver run through her, which only made it harder to let her go. But the captain was waiting, and would ask where he'd been, and there was no need to call attention to himself. He kissed her forehead and dropped the embrace, feeling somewhat bereft without her in his arms as he left the bay.
She stood very still as she watched him leave, wringing hands that threatened to shake, trying to catch her breath. Get it together, Nick. She took a deep breath and tried to subdue the butterflies in her stomach as she went back to her work, sweeping the bay hastily before returning to the galley. The pots and pans and bowls and mugs were stacked everywhere, and Silver stood by the sink with his arms folded across his chest.
"Do I even wan' t' ask where yeh've been?" he growled, looking her over. She must have turned pink, because he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Get t' work. Don' t'ink Ah won' keep yeh here till dawn, if that's wha' it takes."
She nodded and rolled up her sleeves. It would be hours before she got back to her room, and then she'd be drop-dead tired. So much for Jim's "later".
By the time she had cleaned to Silver's satisfaction (she was fairly certain he was just trying to find ways to keep her in the kitchen, and possibly make her cry), it was the middle of the night. She dragged herself back to her room, finding it disappointingly empty and tidied up. Well, at least she could go grab a shower… she needed one. She took a deep breath, and allowed herself a smile. She had never showered before she came aboard this ship, and it was still a treat to have a steady supply of water that stayed hot, and to be able to really feel clean when she stepped out. The only downside was that she had to stay up so late to make sure the showers were empty. And even then, she showered quickly, and dressed in the stall. Sometimes it was safer to borrow water and the basin from Alanna, but she was looking forward to this particular shower.
The shower itself was far too hurried to be relaxing, but she still preferred feeling clean. She hurriedly dried her hair with her towel, dropped it of in the laundry, and raced back up to her room. She knelt beside her knapsack and dug around inside of it to find a comb, and dragged it through her hair, trying not to cringe at the lack of length. It had been months and months, and she still despised her short hair. And on top of that, she'd let the boys cut it properly for her. It was up at her ears again, nearly a naval crew cut. She had tried not to cry when they showed her the "cleaned up" Nick in the mirror. It would be such a relief to grow it out again when this was all over…
She heard the door open but decided not to react, still trying to get her hair to dry in something other than a frizzed mess of used-to-be curls. Honestly, would a horsetail or a braid be too much to ask? This was the worst part…
"Hey," came a low voice, and she felt her stomach twist. He slipped up behind her and wrapped her arms around her middle, putting his nose in her hair.
"You used that soap," he commented, grinning as he kissed her ear to make her squirm. "From the inn."
She curled into him a little, grinning and blushing. "I wasn't going to. But I had a feeling someone would get a chance to appreciate it," she teased him back.
He smiled and hugged her tightly, his hands spread wide and covering her. Even he couldn't tell whether it was protectively or possessively. He wanted so badly to turn her around and kiss her, to keep her smiling and happy, but he couldn't. Not tonight. There was never any good news these days, and he was finding himself trying to avoid telling her what news there was. The men didn't talk about it. He wondered if she knew anything at all. He didn't want to be the one to tell her. He didn't want to watch that smile fade.
"Nick… I need to ask you something."
She tensed in his embrace, steeling herself against his tone. "What's wrong?"
"I need you to promise me that no matter what happens on this ship, you'll stay out of it."
She frowned, pulling away from him and turning to face him. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean if something happens. If we're attacked. You have to promise to stay out of it."
"I can't promise that. What are you talking about?" she asked, taking a step back.
He reached out for her hand. "Nick, you have to. You have to promise me."
"I can't! What is going on?" she demanded.
"Nick, we're being tracked. By the same man that attacked the Helios."
She froze, the color draining from her face. "Archer?"
He didn't want to ask who had given her that name. He simply nodded. "I need you to promise me you'll stay out of things, if it comes to that. Get off the ship, hide with Alanna, anything. Whatever it takes. I can't let you get caught up in this. Not more than you already are."
She nodded slowly. "I will."
"Swear it," he insisted, tugging her closer.
"You swear it first," she retorted, her brows snapping down. "Unless you're going to say this is because I'm a girl."
"I can't stay out of it, Nick, I'm the first mate. It's my job."
"Then promise to survive it."
He looked at her steadily for a long moment. "I promise."
"I promise too," she returned.
Jim let out a breath. "Thank you," he sighed, leaning down to kiss her.
It was just a little one, more innocent than most, but it was filled with a rush of relief that made her knees go weak. She reached up to his shoulders to hold on, to stay upright. And then it seemed that suddenly the innocence was gone from the kiss, and the fear had taken hold of them.
They were scared, both of them. Scared of the unknown, scared of the threat of death and destruction that loomed on their horizon. His hands covered her, finding the curves at her waist and exploring the smooth planes of her back, sending goosebumps racing over her skin. She pushed up on her toes to be closer to him, to close the space between them. He kissed her deeply, making her dizzy, her whole body alive at his touch. Her heart was pounding as her fingers dug into his shirt, trying to hold onto him as though that could keep him here and alive and safe. Her breath hitched in her chest and she was flushed with a fear that was as old as the universe, a fear that left her desperate and reckless.
She wanted him. This wasn't news to her. And he wanted her too, that much was clear. She wanted to pretend that, for tonight, they could love each other without consequence. And nothing could tear them apart.
But none of that was true. There was nothing she could do. No matter how badly she wanted it.
She felt tears prickle behind her eyes, and she pulled back from the kiss to catch her breath. She hid her face in his collarbone, clutching his shirt in her fists, trying very hard to hide the fact that she was crying. His arms wrapped her up tightly, shielding her from the world. He kissed in her hair and said nothing.
God help her, she knew what they meant now, when they talked about love. It crashed down on her in a breath, and she shivered with the suddenness of it.
"It'll be fine, Nick," he said softly, rubbing her back.
"I'll try to believe you," she whispered into his chest.
He moved his hands up to cradle her face, brushing her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I will too," he returned, still holding her face as he kissed her soundly. She half-laughed, but it hitched on a sob and their smiles fell. He pressed his forehead to hers.
She let him enfold her in another long embrace before they had to separate and finish getting ready for lights-out. It was hard to let go… the moment had passed, but it was even harder to stay calm on her own than it had been in his arms. She stopped dead in her tracks at the realization that she depended on him so completely now. She could face her fears on her own, but she didn't have to if she didn't want to, and that made all the difference.
He sat down on the bed and leaned back on the wall, and patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Are you even going to be able to sleep tonight?"
"Probably not," she admitted, sitting crosslegged at his side.
"Should I try to talk you into sleeping, or stay up with you?" he asked, spiking an eyebrow.
"It would be incredibly stupid for you to intentionally exhaust yourself," she pointed out.
He grinned. "Did I ever tell you about the time B.E.N. and I almost got gored when a wild horkhog got into my mom's stables?" She couldn't help but laugh.
Jim stayed awake telling stories until she fell asleep curled up at his side. Then he very carefully put her back in the hammock, to avoid any upset in the morning.
Nick wandered up on the deck, hands chapped and raw from scrubbing, arms aching, knees stiff and feet and ankles tingling. Her head felt stuffed with thunderclouds and she was sneezing and coughing up a storm. She wanted so badly to collapse into her bed. Ishmael was asleep in the galley, next to the stove, and she was fiercely jealous. But she had promised, so she dragged herself up to one of the shrouds, and went hand over hand up and into the rigging, finding a little niche where she was tucked up against the mainmast and able to hang on to the various ropes and steady herself.
"Is that you, cabin boy?" a voice quietly rumbled from the crow's nest.
"It's Nick. Did I miss the meteor shower?" she asked, resting her head back against the wood and looking up.
"I don't think so. It should be soon though…" Jim sighed, leaning over to look down at her. "The men will be up on the deck as soon as word gets around"
"That's why I hurried up here and got my spot," she grinned, winding her arms into the rope ladder of the shroud and leaning forward to rest her chin on her arms.
"Good choice of spots," he agreed, watching her with a grin. She looked up and met his eyes, and was really glad she hadn't missed this. He was so excited to show her.
She stayed put in her little nest up on the spar of the mainmast, talking quietly to him while the men milled around on the deck below and waited for the stars to begin falling in the atmosphere of the planet they were passing. To anyone below, it would look like a momentary cease-fire between the cabin boy and first mate. In truth, Jim was telling her about his home. All the dirt and dust that seeped in through the doorjambs and window frames, and how every house had blinds in the windows to fake sunshine and clear weather they hardly ever had. There was little foliage left in his little town, except in the yards and gardens, and even then it was a struggle to keep them alive. Everything was brown or grey, everything was dirt and dust, and everything was stone or metal. And he missed it like crazy sometimes.
She frowned. "It sounds like a dingy place to live," she pointed out.
"It is," he agreed, grinning.
"It doesn't look like that from the port," she added, looking up. "It's always got fluffy white clouds and you can see the rivers between…"
"They aren't rivers, they're canyons. That's where they mine. That's where all the dust and dirt comes from."
"Oh. That's almost as bad as the port," she grimaced.
"Really? I always thought the port was pretty clean," he admitted.
"They kept you on the light side," she scoffed. "There's the light side, the inside of the curve," she explained, muddling a sneeze in her elbow and then illustrating with her hand, "and then there's the dark side, the outside of it, where things are definitely not as pretty."
He was quiet for a moment. "How in the world did you end up there?" he asked, rather than admitting that he'd never ventured to the dark side of the port.
"I never knew anything else. I was born there. I told you this, didn't I?"
He shrugged, and she sensed more than saw it.
"I was born there. I don't know how my mother ended up there, but I know she had no one else around, so I've always guessed something happened to her that left her stuck there. Maybe it was me—that she got pregnant and was desperate. I never asked. When I'm mad at her, she was a whore, and that's still the truth of it. But when I remember the other things, I wonder if she wasn't as scared as I was when I ran away, but she stayed because she had me, and we had a roof over our heads. I wish I could ask her. I've had so many questions…" she trailed off.
"Like what?"
"Well, who my father was, for one. She never told me. She would get quiet after I asked. I remember that. And I used to think she didn't love me, or didn't love anyone, but lately… lately I think back and I wonder if she did. I think she might have. I think she would have gotten rid of me if she hadn't. God knows, most of the other ladies either got rid of their babies or gave them to the orphanages, and I certainly wasn't helpful to her. I remember her teaching me to read, and singing me to sleep sometimes, and staying up when I was sick." She swallowed hard and sniffled. "And then I wonder if maybe she did know who my father was, and that was why she kept me, and if I meant something to her, then... I mean, maybe she and he… it's just such a mess. I was so little. I wish I remembered more.."
"Nick, you were only six. I think you remember more than you think," he pointed out gently. "Maybe the answers are somewhere.."
She shrugged and shifted, hugging the ropes a little tighter. "It's too late now anyway. There's nothing I can do about any of it. Even if I found the answers, what am I going to do? Go knock on some guy's door and introduce myself as the daughter of that whore he knocked up? It can't happen, Jim," she said flatly, looking up at him.
"Maybe he's looking for you too," he argued.
"He had twelve years to do it while I was still right where he left us," she retorted, getting tired of the subject. "It's too late, Jim. He never looked for her, and he never found me. Please don't try to make more out of it."
Luckily for the two of them, the meteors had begun to fall and kept the attention off the crow's nest. She looked out into the sky and blinked to clear her vision, telling herself it was the head cold and the chilly wind making her eyes stream and hoping Jim didn't notice. She wondered what he would say if she told him she did have one small inheritance. The only thing Morgan had saved of her mom's. But she wasn't desperate enough to believe it held any answers, so she didn't mention it.
"'Ey! Hawkins! C'mere!" Silver called, beckoning to Jim from across the galley.
The younger man responded automatically, forgetting for just the moment that he was no longer the cabin boy, and that particular call in that particular gruff tone no longer required immediate action. Old habit made him cross the room to see what help he could offer, since his hands weren't too full at the moment. "What is it?" he asked the cook.
"Take this up to 'er majesty," he grumbled indicating a perfectly arranged tea service. "Cabin boy got it all laid out and fancy b'fore sommat came up on deck and th' boys needed two more hands. Figger you're as good a mate t'send in as the runt."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "I guess so. What did they need the cabin boy for?"
"Damned if I know," he grumbled, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Ah need 'im back though, if yeh see 'im.. 'e's been draggin' 'is feet all day, actin' like 'e's got the plague or the pox with tha' summer cold in 'is 'ead. I threatened 'im wit' th' doctor, an he perked up a bit," Silver told him.
Jim looked up, meeting the old cyborg's eye. If Nick was bad enough to need a doctor, it was going to be bad news for all. He only hoped she could kick this cold without that kind of attention. "Best to keep him away from the princess then," he agreed, taking the tray.
"S'pose yer right," Silver agreed, flashing a charming grin and getting back to work. Jim took the tray and went out past the crew, across the deck to the cabins. He hadn't seen Alanna in a while… maybe this wouldn't be so bad. On his way he passed Nick working with the other crew members, some of whom had rather cleverly decided to take advantage of her slight build and save themselves some trouble with a wiring problem on the fo'c'sle. It was much easier to explain to her which wires to cut and replace than it was to wedge one of the engineers down there…
But then she coughed and must have sparked herself, because a fluid stream of curses trickled out of the panel, making more than one man blush and the rest laugh uproariously. "Boyo, even sailors don't swear like that," one of them laughed, kicking her leg.
"Then a sailor ought to be down here!" he heard her retort. He shook his head and kept going.
That's my girl, he thought with a little smile. Alanna's door hung open, allowing the breeze that came in to escape again through the windows. She sat with her maids, reading and answering correspondence while she awaited tea.
"I'm sorry I'm so late, Majesty," he said, offering a little bow.
She set down her book. "Not to worry. It's too warm for tea today anyway," she sighed.
He didn't know what else to say, and she seemed to be watching him a little too closely, so he decided to attempt a hasty retreat. "Will there be anything else I can get you?" he asked, stepping back toward the door.
"In fact, there is something you can do for me," she said, getting out of her chair. He understood suddenly what Nick had tried to describe when she said he put on the first mate like a jacket… Alanna merely rose from her seat and straightened her spine just so, and there was shift in the air. Authority, command, and power settled around her like a cloak; her face changed and seemed older and much more rigid. She was speaking to him as the Empress now, and no sign of the friendly young woman remained.
"James Pleiades Hawkins, first mate of the RLS Galaxy, do you recognize my authority as the highest commander in this Navy?"
"I do," he managed, watching her with equal parts anxiety and fascination.
Her voice dropped, and he knew that the next words were for the two of them alone. "Then I hereby command you to do absolutely nothing at all, whatsoever, about the current illegal activity being conducted by our ship's cabin boy. You may not speak of it, insinuate it, or draw attention to it. I also command that you do everything in your power to keep her safe, because if you hurt her, or she gets hurt because of you, so help me God…"
The words rang in his ears. He wasn't sure what had just happened. "Does that mean…?"
"I think you have a promising Naval career ahead of you," she said softly, sinking back into her chair and releasing her grip on the room's breathable air. "I'd like to see you able to continue on that path. I don't think that what you've done to protect Nick should stop that. I can't stop them coming after you for it, but I won't deny that I've told you not to report her. Worst case, if they kick you out of the Navy, I'll always need someone to command my private ships," she offered, stirring sugar into her tea.
He blinked. "I'm going to need to process this."
"Whatever you require, sir. Just know that we're in this together. The three of us," she told him. Gold eyes grinned at him over the rim of her cup.
He bowed again dizzily and left the room. He would never, ever understand this woman, if he lived to be a thousand years old.
A clear day, that was good. A clear day, with little wind, good visibility, and the engineers' and navigators' approval. Jim was fairly vibrating with excitement. He had spent a good hour the night before explaining to Nick that he was going to test a theory that the Galaxy was actually capable of far more than the crew had ever been able to push her to do. The men had been redistributing weight in the hold, and on the deck, and jettisoning whatever excess weight it was safe to discharge. She had lain in her hammock, watching him talk with his hands, pacing the room, and had curled around a smile. He had no idea how adorable he could be. Half his jargon went over her head, but his enthusiasm was contagious. Even Ishmael had caught on, and barked approvingly when Jim smacked his fist into his palm to make a point.
Now, in the light of day, she stood in the waist of the ship feeling utterly useless as the men prepared to test-drive a few of Jim's theories. They were going to see what sort of speed they could make, if necessary, and what a sharp turn might do.
The sudden need to test the ship's capabilities hadn't been completely lost on Nick. She knew there was something amiss, something that Jim felt the need to be able to run from. She could fill in the rest. The Helios's crew hadn't been able to outrun it, but Jim planned to.
She looked up at the foc's'le where he stood surveying his men, and felt a flutter in her stomach. He belonged up there, she saw that immediately. He belonged at the forefront of things, making decisions, calling out orders, in charge of everything… She couldn't imagine him looking as perfectly suited to anything else as long as he lived.
Piers elbowed her out of the way as he passed, waking her from a slightly dangerous trance. She immediately shot him a glare, calling out to Adamson and asking for a job, hoping that it made it clear to all that she had been awaiting orders. She hoped desperately that it hadn't been obvious that she had been watching the first mate. Or if it had been obvious, that it looked like she was awaiting orders.
Adamson came over nearer to her, still watching the progress as the ship readied for "launch". "If you need to do something, go down in the galley and ask the cook. If you want to stay up here, keep your head down and stay quiet," he advised. "This is as delicate as anything we'll ever have to do, and you can't be distracting anybody about their business. You've been on a longboat ride with the man, right?" he asked, letting a little of a smile creep into his eyes as she looked up in surprise.
"Yes," she allowed.
"Then you know what job needs doing."
"Praying?" she offered, smirking.
He chuckled, nudged her with his elbow and moved on to correct someone else, letting her slip away into the shadows. She found her way to the rail of the ship, looking over the side, watching the school of skyfish gliding beneath the ship in a shimmering, flashing cloud.
"All hands to stations!" came the forceful call from the foc's'le.
A chorus of ayes sounded from the deck. Jim turned to the horn that connected him to the engine room. "Engines, full speed!" he shouted.
Nick heard the hum of the engines build to a roar, and the whole ship seemed to strain with the effort. Their speed increased slowly, struggling to allow the engines to push them forward.
"We're gonna have to make a launch," she heard Jim say quietly, looking around at the crew and up into the rigging. "Prepare to cast off! Loose the sails!"
The riggers scrambled to loose the few sails that were tied down, and a few men on deck looked at Jim as though he were mad. "But Mr. Hawkins, in space, without a gravity field—"
He made a dismissive motion with his hand, and their protests were cut off. Nick felt a little thrill sing in her blood. This was just like Jim. This was dangerous, and highly discouraged, and probably impossible.
Which only told her he was convinced it would work.
"Engines, prepare to launch!" he called into the horn, and ignore the squawked protests coming from below. After the protests died down she heard and felt the thrusters emerge, and she felt their hum shudder through the whole ship. She was fair humming herself, elated by the danger and excitement he was creating.
The hum grew until it sounded like the ship would combust. She looked up, waiting for the signal. His eyes met hers across the deck, and a little smirk played on his lips. "Brace yourselves," he called out to the crew. Then he turned to the horn.
"Punch it!"
The ship quivered for a moment, then rocketed forward with a force that knocked the majority of the crew to their backsides on the deck. They shot forward at a reckless speed, even faster and more uncontrollable than a launch, because she had no gravity field to fight against. The ship sped through the sky with Jim at helm and every man hanging on for dear life, the ship herself protesting vehemently.
A deep, bellowing crack rent the air like thunder, and the deck shuddered. The ship lost speed, and slowly, slowly lost speed until she was drifting along at something more like her normal speed. Jim's laugh rang out over the deck, clear and deep, with the purest joy she'd ever heard. "Excellent!" he cried, clapping his hands together. "Excellent work, men! That was fantastic!"
An angry voice called him several remarkable names through the horn, but as the men found their footing again and began to clean up the deck it was established that he'd merely blown a few fuses in the thrusters and thrown some interesting kinks into the engines' lines. Nothing was irreparably damaged.
For the first time in a while, Jim's face was clear and happy. There was no line between his dark brows, no grey ghost of worry under his eyes. He was smiling and laughing and walking on sunshine, having found his escape at last. He called Adamson up to see to the righting of the deck, and hurried past Nick on his way down to the engine room, already planning aloud the fortifications and reinforcements they'd put in place in order to make sure the ship could handle another mid-space launch.
Nick fought hard to keep the pride off her face, until she noticed it in the faces of the men around her. He was an utter madman, they said. A loose screw. A lunatic.
But he was their madman.