Title: The Death of a Friend

Rating: PG-13, Safety Rating

Spoilers: Yup quite a few coming from the books. Read at your own risk.

Notes: The second and last part to this fic, and maybe I'll write one in which neither of them die and just have one great adventure =D Thanks to those who reviewed the last portion, and this was to me was much harder to write. I hope I managed to capture Stephen well enough, and if you thought the last one as sad...

Warnings: Character Death, Last one...

Author: SilentTrainConductor

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; once again I am happy to say they all belong to Patrick O'Brian.

The Death of a Friend- Stephen's Reaction

Stephen wondered how long it has been since he saw Jack Aubery last. He found that his mind had been turning onto his friend quite often over the past few months, often wondering how Jack was in his home, the sea. A bird interrupted his thoughts as it fluttered its wings and made its way through the forest. Not the least bit startled at the sudden intrusion, Stephen quickly made for his scope at his side and peered at the dear creature with a smile.

'Oh, Papa!' Brigit cried from behind, 'Did you see it Papa?' she continued as the bird took off from its branch after hearing the child's cry. Hoping she didn't upset her father, knowing how much he grew upset when he wasn't allowed to witness his birds, she made sure to add, 'I beg your pardon, Papa, but a letter just came from Miss Sophie, and the carrier told me that Miss Sophie said it was of grave importance, Oh Papa. The dear man was crying.' Stephen's irritation melted as he saw the look of innocence and a hint of fear on her daughter's face.

'Well now, come my Brigit and let us read the letter.' Relieved that her Papa wasn't angry at her she skipped gracefully over to him, with her head held up high, reminding Stephan sadly of Diana. Stephen then remembered how Brigit mentioned how the carrier was crying, and somehow the all too familiar pain of unease rose in his heart.

'Pray, tell me my dear, what did the carrier look like?'

'Oh Papa, he was a huge man! Like one of those giants from the Greek stories you tell me Papa! He was a black man, and I think he had the clothing of a priest.' Brigit gazed off into the forest, trying to make sure her description was accurate enough. 'Yes, he told me "Bless you, child" as I ran off to fetch you.' Stephen's worry mounted upon hearing the description, it was most certainly Sam Panda, Jack's very own son, and what worried him the most was the fact that Sam should be so far from his home. Stephen looked down at Brigit who was happily fiddling with her toes, and he feared he knew what the letter would be about, knowing that Jack had been near Peru during one of his missions (which happened to be where Sam was practicing).

'Come now my child,' he managed to say, 'Let us go give our greetings to the man, and receive the letter.' And let us pray that I am wrong, Stephen told himself inwardly. As they walked out of the forest, Stephen let his gaze miss the numerous birds that crossed his path, even when somewhere deep in his subconscious he screamed at himself that there was a nest just to the right of him, he only felt the desire to receive only good news from Sam.

Yet no amount of desires or wishes could bring what Sam had to say any more difficult to understand, and for the fellow who brought the news, any harder to say. Upon meeting Sam lowered his head to the ground and tightly wrapped his arms around him.

'Oh Brother.' Sam cried, wet tears overlapping places that were once dry. Stephen held onto the embrace, accepting and acknowledging that his worst fear had come to pass. Sam let go of his hold and portrayed Stephen the letter that had been brought to him.

'The dear woman could hardly write it, my dear.' Sam sniffed, drying his tears with his sleeve and trying to compose himself. He cleared his throat and handed Stephen the wrinkled letter. Stephen ignored it for the moment, and asked whether Sam would like to come inside. Perhaps Padeen may be able to prepare something to ease of the weariness of traveling.

"Yes, yes of course." Sam nodded, being too gracious to decline an offer made from his former father's best friend. They sat in what seemed eternity in silence, each occupied with their own thoughts and own sorrows. Stephen fingered the letter absently, and once again his thoughts drifted onto Jack Aubery.

Death was part of Stephen's life more often than most. Sometimes it was up to him to see if Death would triumph, or if instead the Doctor with his bark and roots would. He had lost his first love very early to Death, and he wondered how he could have ever gotten past such a thing. He remembered it was then that soon after he had met Aubery and the two didn't exactly become friends upon their first meeting, but Jack had helped Stephen forget what he had left behind. Then came Diana, when he thought he could no longer be able to love again, Diana proved him wrong. She stirred a passion in him so strong, that he was glad that Death hadn't taken him. Even after her running off with other men various times, he kept together...he remained strong.

There were times when it was thanks to Jack and his booming laughter and his cheeriness of soul, and others when it was Stephen's own weakness when he turned to his laudanum or his coca leaves. It was then when Diana's death hurtled at him at such a forced blow, that he had given up escaping into his opium, and he turned to Jack. Jack helped him through Diana's death, with comforting words and at times just when the two would sit and play their music together.

Now how would he be able to come to accept Jack's own death? He had feared it often after Diana's death, fearing the loss of another close one, more so fearing for Brigit he had to admit. Never imaging that day when Lucky Jack Aubery would fall. He came to realize the unopened letter still in his hands and slowly made the words come to light.

'Dear Stephen,

It is my'-a large smear covered the word 'to announce dear Jack's death. He was killed during battle and buried at sea. How I hope he was happy during his last breath my dear Stephen' Various words that followed Stephen could hardly make out thanks to the tears that Sophie dropped onto it, blurring them beyond recognition. He could, however make out the words 'wanted, to accept his violin. Please visit soon.

With all my heart,

Sophie'

He held onto the letter, trying, but failing, to make out the other parts of the letter. It was then a new feeling of guilt made its way over him, perhaps if he had agreed to go on the mission like Jack wanted, he could have saved him when he was injured. Stephen looked down at the letter again and wondered when would be the right time to visit Sophie, and he found himself wondering when he would come to terms with Jack's death. He found himself longing for his escape in his opium, longing for his leaves, anything to take away the feeling that haunted him so.

'Papa.' Little Brigit cried squeezing his hand with her gentleness. 'You're crying Papa, you never cry.' She commented with tears forming in her eyes as well. Stephen looked to his daughter, his unusually pale eyes so filled with emotion that they gave off such a heart-wrenching color, and formed a thin smile in reassurance.

"It's all right my love. Everyone cries, it is after all human nature." Brigit nodded, still looking at her Papa in a mixture of fear and awe. Sam noticed that Stephen had finished the letter, and bowed his head and commented that he would be back in a moment.

When Sam returned, Stephen noticed the all familiar shape of Jack's violin wrapped around in a silk scarf. He would have to remember to return the scarf to Sophie, he had no need for it, and neither did Brigit nor Christine. Sam unwrapped the object gently, and cradled it in his hands before hesitantly handing it to Stephen.

Stephen held it in his hands ever so carefully, as the whole object contained the only thing that was left of Jack. And to Stephen, in a part it was. Stephen leaned his head against it and slowly began to play the tune he had composed for Diana's death, a tune that reminded him of the pains of life and death. A tune that reminded him of the sadness it brought upon the air. A tune that reminded him how Jack mentioned the fact to him, on how the tune was very, very sad.

He stopped playing, midway. Not wanting to have Jack remembered in such a way. So he sat up right, found the tune that they had always happily played in good times, and vibrantly began the cheery tune, ignoring the sadness of his soul, ignoring the tears raining upon Jack's violin. Ignoring everything but what Jack was, and would always be in his heart.

Fini