Disclaimer: Wookieebeta does not own anything from the Patrick O'Brien books.
Summary: Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin have been inseparable for years, but now they must part… (Master and Commander songfic to 2BA Master track 7 (name?), one-shot)
Rating: PG-13 for theme and language
A/N: …not much to say…going to sleep one evening after watching Master and Commander: Far Side of the World and reading one of the books (forgot which one – probably the second, Post Captain), put 2BA Master in my CD player, and woke up halfway through the night with track seven playing, and just thought it fit…
The characters are based off the books, since they're a lot better developed, but I'm going on the movie's plotline since I've only read the first four o.O;; One-Shot
Goodbye
Tap. Tap. Tap tap…tap-tap-tap.
A long moment of silence, and then the quiet knock was repeated, more insistently.
Lucky Jack Aubrey cracked open a bleary eye to contemplate the ceiling, but he made no motions toward answering.
"Ah…Captain, sir? It's Bonden…please, sir, if it's not too much trouble…"
Aubrey sighed. "Come in, Bonden."
The door swung open and the coxswain stepped in, his normally cheerful countenance distinctly drawn and grey. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. He shook his head mutely.
"Well? What is it?"
"Which it is the doctor, sir," Bonden said. His voice was subdued. "In the battle, sir…he was wounded… The mate did everything he could, but…" Another shake of the head, and the sailor's uncharacteristically sunken eyes rose to meet the captain's.
Lucky Jack's throat seized. "But what? What in the blazes are you trying to say, Bonden?" But he didn't have to ask.
"Maybe you should just go see him, sir," Bonden murmured. "If you please…" The captain sat up with a pain-filled groan, and Bonden had to help him to his feet; spears of agony ran up and down his side. Maturin knew just how badly he was hurt. For the Irishman not to have come himself boded no good.
As they made their way to the doctor's cabin, Jack tried every trick he could think of to bring his racing pulse back under control. Their last encounter had been horridly bloody – a seventy-four gun Frenchie, and every single shot grape – and he'd already seen enough blood and death for one day. He didn't need to see any more. His blue-eyed gaze traveled over the stony grey faces of his crew, and his heart sank further with every step.
Stephen had been below-decks during the battle, he knew. He'd come running into the gun-room when he'd heard of the captain's injury, but as soon as he'd set things to order he'd disappeared back to the sick-bay, and Jack hadn't heard from or of him since. So what had happened? Certainly there were risks below-decks, but even the less-than-seamanly doctor knew how to keep his balance in this light swell. He operated in this stuff, for chrissakes.
"You may want to prepare yourself, sir," Bonden said quietly, halting in front of the doctor's cabin. Jack tuned a keen ear; it was deathly quiet within. That wasn't good. He knew Stephen was a terrible patient, and for him to be so quiet…
"Oh, my God," the captain couldn't help but breathe as Bonden eased the door open. "Oh, God…Stephen, what happened?" He crossed to his friend's side in a mere two strides and knelt there, taking the doctor's less-mangled hand in his own and caressing it gently. The entire lower half of his body was crushed, legs twisted at grotesque angles and crimson blood oozing from innumerable lacerations. His upper body was little better. The assistant surgeon had already removed his shirt, and Jack could see the deep gashes that ran across his already heavily scarred chest. His right hand was nearly severed; his left was bloody, partially crushed, but still less injured than the rest of him.
"On the gundeck, trying to save Pullings," Maturin whispered, looking at his friend with great affection. "Number three gun. Broke loose of its lashings...I was in the way." He managed a weak smile, but it faded as a wave of apparent agony arched his spine.
"Stephen!" Aubrey cried. "Are you all right?"
"Do I bloody well – " a weak cough that brought up blood – "look all right?" There was a long moment of silence, during which Bonden whispered something in the assistant's ear. They exited, leaving the doctor and the captain alone.
"God, Stephen," Jack murmured as his friend gasped in pain. "I never thought…" He closed his eyes and looked away, feeling the hot tears well up inside his eyelids.
I close my eyes, and I can seeThe day we met - just one moment and I knew
You're my best friend - do anything for you…
He'd seen Stephen in bad shape before – seen him after nearly a week marooned on a tiny rock under the blazing Equatorial sun with nothing but bird blood to drink, seen him driven nearly to the point of insanity by the object of his most devoted affections Diana, seen him after two weeks of France's "questioning," seen him delirious with fever off the coast of India, even seen him perform open-heart surgery on himself after a bullet lodged itself in his sternum, but never – never – had he seen him so pale, so fragile. He'd come to see the surgeon as a sort of immortal being.
Now Stephen's mortality struck him harder than any blow.
We've gone so far, and done so much
And I feel like we've always been together –
Right by my side through thick and thin…
You're the part of my life I'll always remember.
They had known each other over forty years, and only a handful of those years had been spent apart; commands, ships, crews, even wives and children came and went, passing through his life as if in another reality, but Stephen had always come back. No matter what distant corner of the world he'd been sent off to, no matter what dangerous mission he'd had to undergo (for Stephen was an intelligence agent for the British Navy), he could always be counted on to return with his croaking voice and a pocketful of curious beetles. They'd met only hours after Aubrey received his first command, a tiny half-rate sloop called Sophie, and they'd never parted ways for more than a few months since. He loved the man more than his own father, possibly more than his own son.
But now, for him to be torn from his side so violently…
The time has come…
It's for the best, I know it.
Who could have guessed that you and I…
Somehow some day, we'd have to say goodbye…
"Jack," Stephen murmured, bringing the captain's attention back to his pale face. "There are certain papers in my chest…extremely important papers, if you catch my meaning – they must be forwarded to Sir Joseph, along with news of my death. He will be expecting a full report."
"Dear Stephen," Aubrey cried, "do not concern yourself with your paperwork! We'll pull in at the next port – take you to a decent hospital – you'll be able to take them to your man in person." He was obliged to fall silent to hide the pained cracking of his voice.
Stephen gave another small smile. "I will not last the glass," he stated softly. "If I could ask a great favor of you…"
"Anything, anything at all, dear friend!"
"…tell Diana Villiers I loved her," Stephen whispered. His piercing eyes glittered with restrained tears.
"I will," Aubrey promised. He bit his lip as another spasm of pain wracked the doctor's failing body.
You've helped me find the strength inside,
And the courage to make my dreams come true.
How will I find another friend like you?
I owe you everything, he told Maturin silently. I never told you this, but every battle I won, every prize I took, every ship I nursed back to port and rebuilt, every time I set off on another wild goose chase across the world and left my family behind, it was all for you. All so that you could be that much closer to seeing Buonapart destroyed. And every time I rallied the crew for another broadside, every time I insisted that everything would come out fine in the end, it was because you were there – you, my guardian angel, my good luck charm, my unlucky charge. It was your strength, your seeming immortality that kept my hope alive. Without you, I'd have lost long ago…
Two of a kind, that's what we are,
And it seems like we were always winning…
But as our team is torn apart,
I wish we could go back to the beginning.
Stephen's hand tensed suddenly, and Aubrey wiped blood from his forehead.
"Don't do this to me," he pleaded, softly, almost inaudibly. "Don't leave me here alone…please, God, don't take him from me!" He could almost hear his heart breaking. Salt rivers poured over his cheeks.
Why does it always have to come to this? he asked himself. First Mother, then Sophie, and then the girls, and George soon to follow – I lost my ship, my family, my crew – why do I have to lose him as well? Why?!
"Stephen…please don't die…"
But his pleas were in vain. Already the Irishman's eyes were unfocused, unseeing, unresponsive.
The time has come
It's for the best I know it
Who could have guessed that you and I
Somehow, some way, we'd have to say goodbye..
Aubrey gripped his friend's mangled hand tighter, as if that would bind his spirit to the mortal plane.
"Stephen," he sobbed, but he elicited no response. His closest friend and confidant of forty years was gone.
Lucky Jack Aubrey's famous golden hair turned slowly brown, wet with his uncontrollable tears and stained red from his friend's blood.
Half an hour later Bonden eased the door open; he draped a heavy coat around his captain's shoulders and led him slowly back to his cabin, glaring daggers at any heartless bastard who approached. Even Killick remained mute. And when dawn the next morning found the HMS Surprise in a headlong flight back to England, official orders ripped in half and scattered to the winds, not a single hand dared to approach the sacred quarterdeck.
Somehow today we have to say goodbye…