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Summary
As they sail for home on the Enterprise, Francis and James carve out new routines.
“‘Nother turn.” James was wheezing now, and leaned heavily on Francis’s shoulder in the pale dawn light. After a quarter of an hour of walking, he now shook like a ship’s cat in the midst of a great guttering storm, though the puff of wind coming off the starboard side was barely more than a light breeze.
“James.” Francis tightened his hold on his Second’s shoulders, unable to shift the worry from his own expression. “We’ve walked eight lengths already. Are you certain?”