[Fic] Blue. Blood. Black.

Aug 11, 2010 13:24

Title: Blue. Blood. Black.
Author: Shytan
Rating: PG
Characters: Cutler Beckett, James Norrington.
Summary: Misery loves company.
Warnings: Blood.
Prompt: PotC, Beckett/James, Broken for Greeneyespurple

Blue. Blood. Black.

The room was dancing about in a most annoying fashion, causing the waking Admiral to close his eyes once more. What had happened? He opened them tentatively once more, waiting until the room settled before moving his head and looking around. The room was dark, and gently swaying as the ocean cradled the vessel in a slow, predictable manner. James realised that he as in his quarters aboard the Endeavour as it sailed serenely towards an almighty war.

Had he dreamt? Shaking his head to clear it, James sat up and searched his room for a fresh set of clothing. It would not be appropriate to stroll around the ship so underdressed. After shrugging into his uniform, James made his way out onto the deck. The night was calm, but the air had a slight bite to it. James was glad for the warmth of his coat and cravat.

The ship was not as quiet as he expected it to be. Mumblings and lantern light drew his attention to the rear of the ship, and he made his way with due haste. The sight he met was not one he expected. A small huddle of company men were huddled around something they had clearly just found, as they were still discussing what an appropriate course of action would be. They were relieved to look up at see a high ranking officer, an Admiral no less, and hastily made way for him to see what the commotion was all about.

Blue. Blood. Black.

Lying on the deck, soaking in blood was the pale form of the ship's captain. Eyes closed and slightly shivering, it was unclear whether or not he was awake, but his pallid complexion was concerning. James immediately leapt into action, using a calm but commanding voice to order the men to fetch the doctor and prepare the captain's quarters. James picked up the limp body, ignoring the fact that his fresh clothes were now stained.

On the way to the captain's quarters he questioned the men that followed, but none had any answers. A small group had found him alone, they had heard him fall, and no, nobody was seen near him. Considering a pair of men had come from the other direction, the chances of them missing someone was very low. No, nobody had seen him before then, and they were not sure why he was dressed and out of bed either. In all likelyhood he had stumbled over to that spot, seeking help perhaps, James thought. Clearly he was not going to get answers until the Lord awoke.

While waiting for ship's doctor to arrive, James used the cloth and bowl of water that one of the company men had brought him to start cleaning the blood away from Cutler's face and arms. The doctor arrived rather quickly, and James was ejected from the room along with all except one of the servants, a valet the Lord had brought with him.

Fortunately it was nearly dawn, for James knew he would not be able to return to sleep. He returned to the spot he had found Lord Beckett, and searched around for clues but found none. All that remained was a red stain in the spot the man had been lying. Two of the men that had found him seemed to have volunteered themselves for cleanup duty, as they arrived with a bucket and rags in hand. James nodded at them and left.

It was halfway throught he day before James was granted access to the captain's quarters, and his curiosity drove him inside.
"Lord Beckett?" James seated himself on a chair near the bed, emerald eyes dashing from one wound to the next.
"Admiral," Cutler opened his blue-green eyes, more grey now in the dim light. His voice was soft, surprisingly so, but his eyes held their typical frostiness.
"How are you feeling?" James was unsure where to proceed, so he settled for a traditional bedside question to start with. Cutler was having none of it.

"Why are you here, Admiral." Less of a question, more of a demand.
"I came to see if you were alright," James narrowed his eyes, intrigued and concerned by the Lord's defensiveness.
"You needn't have worried, I'll live." Cutler's voice was regaining strength, and although low in volume, it was starting to take on a dangerous undertone.
"Do you remember what happened?" James asked, pushing on despite the look of warning that had settled onto the Lord's face.

Cutler's eyes darted to the side as he was hit by a memory, but all he saw fit to reply was, "Yes."
James was losing his patience. "Sir, with all due respect, it is not common to find one's captain lying on the deck in a pool of blood. What happened." This time, it was James that was doing the demanding.
Cutler's eyes narrowed. "It's none of your concern."
"I disagree, I was all up night being concerned!" James said forcefully, before regretting his admission that he had been worried.

Cutler seemed surprised, and his voice lost its dangerous tone when he asked rather tentatively, almost hopefully, "why?"
There. There it was. James saw it. It had been there all along, but the Lord had hidden it well. Loneliness. Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared. Did James care? So much had been asked of him in that little question, that three letter word the man had just uttered. Suddenly, James' response because so much more important, so much more difficult.

The Admiral saw two doors open before him. One was the easy route. Tell him it is because he is your captain. Because they are closing in on the pirates. That he was concerned the ship and its crew would suffer should the captain be out of commission. That the fleet would suffer. The other door lead to a route that James just couldn't make out, it could take him anywhere, really. Maybe nowhere of importance, maybe somewhere of great importance. He could tell him that someone cared. That he cared. It would be a small thing, but if his intuition was right, to Cutler it would not be small at all.

Then came the question of, did he care? He had been worried, true. He had been concerned. But why? Would he have held that concern for other men? Were it a low ranking officer he doubt he would have thought about it for so long, bothered to visit at the first chance possible. Were it his friends, he would have visited them in a heartbeat. But Cutler was not his friend, he was so distant, so aloof. Why did he care?

He did care. He didn't know why, but he did care. Perhaps the truth was the best path to take. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, James settled on replying, "Because... because I care about you."
Cutler seemed confused, unsure, even hurt, as though he expected a verbal blow to follow up, for it to be taken back to leave a hole where it had been, even if it had only been there for a moment. This had happened before, James realised.

James was unaware of just how broken Cutler really was, beneath the title and brocade. James realised with a pang that he himself was lonely, was confused, was broken. He too had been hurt by having love given and then taken away, ripped from him before it had even had a chance to settle in him. He too was lonely, and maybe that was why he cared about Cutler. He didn't want the other to be as lonely as he was, when in reality, the other had been for far longer than he.

Blue. Blood. Black.
Ocean. Pain. Darkness.
Loneliness. Knife. Nothingness.

The world was a lonely place. Perhaps if the lonely stuck together, they wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

lord cutler beckett, beckett/norrington, rating: pg, prompt fics, james norrington

Previous post Next post
Up