Chapter Text
The roar of the officers laughter rang in his ears… again. Stephen smiled awkwardly, knowing as he always had that Jack had lead him down a road of humor at the surgeon’s expense. He reminded himself that this was his role to play – that of the simple friend of the illustrious captain. Were these stories written down, he was certain that his character would be that of the fool.
There was a cruel irony in it. Had he decided to stay in England – and not joined the Royal Navy – Stephen would be a respected member of society. But, onboard the HMS Surprise, he was a point of humour – one to be jabbed at. It infuriated him that he could treat all manner of ailments, that his hands could perform the most intricate of surgeries, and that his inquisitive mind could compare the new animals, flora, and fauna that they discovered with what was known. But, he never saw the joke until he was at the end of it.
And the laughter continued on.
Hurt brown eyes, that had been at the end of these jokes just once too many times gazed at the captain. Jack met his look, tilting his broad chin just a bit to the side, as deep brown eyes questioned the lack of smile on his old friend’s face. Out of habit, Stephen’s shoulders drooped as he smiled, pushing the hurt deep down. It felt as though icicles prickled his chest as he swallowed his pride yet again and chased it with a glass of wine.
He knew that Jack saw him, for those caring brown eyes of his friend did not leave his face, even as other stories were told and the night descended into quiet companionship. For once he found himself unable to concentrate on much of anything, but the jabs of those more versed in maritime affairs and leadership than he.
He reminded himself that his job was important, if not isolating, and was one of the first people to excuse themselves once the meal was over.
“Must be hard for ye,” Killick said, passing the doctor as Stephen returned to the infirmary. “To be the butt of the jokes night after night.”
Shocked by the accuracy of the statement, Stephen drew himself up to his full height, which was not much taller than the other man. “You forget yourself,” he said without the force that a statement the likes of which he had received deserved.
“It’s right anyway, init?” Killick responded, making his way to the galley.
Yes, it was correct, Stephen thought to himself. He fought the urge to grab his cello and bring it to the main cabin for a night of harmonious playing. He did not feel in harmony with anything at this moment. Rather he felt out of sync. Out of sync and out of place.
His chest constricted at the thought that came next – that the captain merely saw him as a fool. A necessary part of the ship, but too foolish to truly be the man’s friend or equal. While in the service to the Crown, Jack was the captain and the superior. Stephen knew that. But, he suddenly wondered if all of those years of friendship were for naught and that he was the only one of the two that felt that he was in the presence of an intellectual equal and a boon companion.
The thought stole his breath as he recalled all of the jokes at his expense – the ones that he barely understood but made the other officers laugh. The jokes that made the midshipmen look at him – or, worse, avoid looking at him – uneasily. He wished that he had someone to talk to about his thoughts. But, all he had was his diary. These thoughts were too precarious to put down, and paper was too scarce to burn. His only constant companion through these years had been Jack, and he was loathe to bother then man more than his friendship already had.
A knock came on his door, and he thought about ignoring it. He wondered if it was one of the midshipmen. Most of the adults simply walked in unless it was one of the few times he had the door barred. Upon opening the door, he was surprised to see the captain standing there, hands clasped behind his back.
“Jack,” Stephen said, moving back to let him in. He scratched the back of his neck as he did so. They were both men of habit, so it should not have come as a surprise to Stephen that Jack had sought his companionship.
“Stephen, I believe I owe you an apology,” Jack said, turning to look up at his old friend. He could tell that the joke had bothered Stephen far more than any of the others told over the years. He wasn’t certain what it was about the joke that had upset his friend, but he had not meant to do it. Stephen’s lack of understanding of naval affairs helped Jack set up what he knew were simple and unsophisticated jokes.
“Do you?” Stephen said, moving to sit down on his work bench. He did not want to have this discussion now, especially since he was not certain exactly what they would be discussing. He hadn’t sorted his own feelings out beyond their fiery and passionate stages. Until logic was applied, he did not want to bore or –worse – bother the captain with his thoughts.
“Yes, I did not mean to upset you at supper.” A small smile graced his lips in semi-wordless apology.
A tight smile and then, “Well for whatever measure of forgiveness you feel you need, you have it.” His feelings were inconsequential, he was realizing as he recalled years of jokes at his expense, and the way he felt spoken down to whenever he tried to ask a question to gain better understanding. He cared little what the other officers thought of him. But, his heart felt nearly ablaze with sadness at the realization that his old friend had not been his friend at all, merely humoring him all the years.
He pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Now if you’ll forgive me I am not feeling like myself tonight. I believe I need a bit of rest.”
Jack’s hand found Stephens upper arm with a gentle squeeze. “Are you unwell?” That would explain so much – why his friend had drank so much wine; why he had not touched his food; and why his sense of humor had faded into near nonexistence.
“I’m tired,” Stephen answered honestly. “I’ll be fine.” The caring side that his … that Jack was showing warred with the thoughts in his mind. Were Stephen so inconsequential to him, would Jack show this level of concern? Was it concern from one from friend to another? Concern from a captain to a doctor? Perhaps it was a mixture of both. The thoughts swirled around Stephen’s head making him physically dizzy.
To say that Jack didn’t believe what was being stated would be a falsehood. He did believe that Stephen was tired and that he would be fine, but he did not believe that there was nothing more wrong with his friend.
“Would you like me to stay?” Jack asked, loosening his grip on the other man’s arm. It wasn’t an unreasonable or out of the ordinary request. Both of them had difficult nights in the past, and one would watch over the other while for company and protection. Whatever was bothering his dear friend, he didn’t want Stephen to suffer through it alone.
“Not tonight.” A pause. “Thank you,” Stephen added as an afterthought. He said nothing more, leaving the captain to let himself out.
How does one tell their closest friend that they know that they were never friends to begin with?