fic: retrace the stars

title: retrace the stars
author: marginalia
archive: .: hdp: lotrips archive :.
disclaimer: i own nothing. o'brian is spinning in his grave.
notes: for starfishchick's birthday, oh so belatedly. mish-mash of film and book verse, as i am writing _stephenmaturin. no spoilers. just over 500 words. first real a/m fic. be gentle :)

The wind has shifted; now it blows across
our path and rises from the black west, now
the air has thickened into mist. We cannot
hold out against it, cannot keep on course.
Since Fortune has the better of us now,
Let us obey and turn aside where she
has called. I think the faithful shores of Eryx,
your brother, and Sicilian ports are not
far off, if only I remember right
and can retrace the stars I watched before.

Virgil, The Aeneid, trans. by Allen Mandelbaum

A modern translation, alas. Stephen had memorized The Aeneid in Latin.


The Surprise was a world unto itself, suffering weather and winds both below and above deck. Moods would swirl through the men, fogs shifting through the carefully balanced relationships, the reliable order, the ritual of daily life.

Their time at sea lengthy, his access to resources uncertain, Stephen took to rationing his stores of opium, limiting the nights when the laudanum would ensure dreamless sleep. When battle the next day was certain, he dared not risk his level of alertness for his patients, but when the sea was calm he allowed Morpheus to come as he would.

Some nights he gave himself over to tossing and turning - the suspended cots had never been what one might classify as comfortable - some nights he read, wrote, or just lay back and let his mind race on, unchecked, longing for it to tire itself to match his weary body.

Rare nights he would find himself above deck, almost without intending it. He'd nod to Bonden at the wheel (whose voice would falter at the interruption, but whose song would continue once he knew it was just the Doctor), button his coat higher against the cold, then move towards the fo'c'sle, find a spot at the rail, chin resting on folded arms, gazing unseeing into the dark.

Tonight the Surprise hung in the water. The sea spread around him, time rushing around a single point. Jack appeared beside him, an unmistakable presence, warm and solid in the diaphanous night. "Plotting our route, my dear?" he asked.

Stephen shook the mist from his brain. "Not at all." He glanced upwards. "What stories they could tell. They lead men from one end of the earth to another, and yet." Stephen stopped. And yet there is no such chart for the span of men's hearts. Stephen straightened and clasped his hands to the rail. "Perhaps I could trouble you to tell me sometime of those instruments for reading in the stars something beyond myth."

"It would bring me great joy. I have been remiss in not offering before. Your insatiable curiosity is most inspiring." Jack smiled as Stephen ducked his head briefly, and then he braved the distance, sliding his hand over Stephen's.

They stood in companionable silence for time unknown, listening to the sea and the coxswain. Bonden dropped into a hum, but it carried sweet across the deck in the still air. Jack's hand lay heavy and warm on Stephen's. He squeezed it once, warming Stephen's slim fingers with his great paw, then withdrew, placing his hands at the small of his back.

"I should think we'll see land soon," Jack said. "A friendly port. We shall refit and resupply."

"Very good," Stephen said.

Jack hesitated, caught in a rare moment of uncertainty. "I should be going below now. You ought as well - there is quite a chill on the air tonight."

The world held its breath, but the winds kept on, Fortune-driven, strong and sure. "You are advising me in matters of health, my dear Captain?" Stephen's lips quirked. "Nonetheless, I shall follow. In a moment."

Jack stepped away, and Stephen turned back to the sea and the stars.