Twenty-third evolution of sail: Morning watch

[shakenandlimp]

[It's a dazed William Bush who nearly falls out of his bed, slowly does up the braces and buckles of his left leg, and staggers out to the mess hall in clothes that are only straight and correct by the long habit of his muscles: his brain has nothing to do with it.

In the mess, he gets a mug and makes himself at home in front of the coffee dispenser; the bitter stuff is not as good as what the kitchen staff make, but when a man has lived on 'coffee' that is mostly brewed of burnt breadcrumbs, or tea on its fourth pressing, it is nectar. The bitter, strong taste wakes him, and his half-lidded eyes slowly widen to general wakefulness.]

Comments

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[Scorpius, freshly recovered from his recent dance with death by heat delirium, spots Bush in the mess hall relatively quickly.

Here's a face he hasn't seen in some time. And it's one worth watching, now that he's slowly beginning to drive Horatio under his thumb.

He approaches the man, tilting his head towards him in acknowledgement]

May I join you, Captain?

[shakenandlimp]

[Not at all the face Bush had hoped to see after weeks of sleep, but he has had one cup of coffee already and so doesn't tell Scorpius to go to blazes. It is the most grudging-]

If y'like.

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[Scorpius smiles, and not particularly nicely. He seats himself without further ado, watching the old sailor]

It's good to see you up and about again.

Spam

[shakenandlimp]

Very long, was it?

[He returns the kind of frosty look that's made many a junior officer flinch. He won't be moved by an ugly set of teeth in an ugly face.]

Spam

[keeps_a_cool_head]

A fair amount, yes. You were missed.

[Hey, Bush, he'll have you know that he's seduced many a weird alien woman with this ugly face.]

Captain TL:DR Bush

[shakenandlimp]

How long, then?

[He doubts very much that it was Scorpius doing the missing, except possibly with a pistol.]

[godsays]

You're awake.

[ And this is Zane taking the coffee away and setting it down before giving Bush a tight hug. Bush doesn't get any choice in the matter. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Zane gets a sleepy, delighted smile.]

I am! Hullo, lad, here I am. [He returns the embrace gladly, at a disadvantage for height but not enthusiasm.]

Was it long? Hope I didn't worry you?

[godsays]

[ The Emperor is awake. Bush is awake. Morgana graduated. Zane feels light, bittersweet. ]

It was. And you did. [ It's halfway between a reprimand and just petulance. ]

[shakenandlimp]

I'm sorry.

[He kisses Zane penitently on the cheek and grips his shoulders tight.]

Well, I am up now-- what are we about today? Fire? Flood? Admiral steered us back to cannibal islands?

[godsays]

[ This actually makes him go quiet, and withdraw slightly. ]

Some people think the Mirror is coming back.

[shakenandlimp]

Damn. Damn! That we don't need. Why are they saying so?

[deshabille]

[She appears by the coffee engine, like a specter of caffeination, bright-eyed and eager, though she does not smile.]

Captain. I see you've remembered your duties.

[Good morning.]

[shakenandlimp]

Corporal; see you've left some coffee for me.

[Good morning to you.]

[sssiiiiirrrrr]

[Horatio has been fraught with loneliness in the absence of Bush, Kennedy and his inmate, and when he sees Bush going for his morning coffee, the enormity of his relief at seeing the other man awake washes through him like warm water over clenched muscles. He falls into step beside the captain, following him to the coffee dispenser, pleased, placid, and terribly weary.]

Good morning, Captain.

[shakenandlimp]

Good morning, Lieutenant. [Seeing Hornblower safe and sound is a weight off his mind that he hadn't been aware he was carrying.]

Damned comas. Pardon me for the absence. A few weeks, as I read my calendar.

[sssiiiiirrrrr]

Perhaps we all need the rest. People say the mirror ship may be returning soon.

[Maybe there is a kind of reason behind the sudden slew of comas. Maybe they'll need all their strength. Horatio drinks his coffee and stands a tiny bit closer to Bush than he strictly needs to.]

[shakenandlimp]

I do feel uncommon rested. But that vile place-- is there rest enough?

We'll manage, though. We live through it, Lieutenant-- perhaps we'll have the luck to be ourselves. [He offers a small, reassuring smile. A small hope, but one worth keeping.]

[sssiiiiirrrrr]

Perhaps.

[He doesn't feel optimistic. Over the last few weeks he's been plagued by unease. Missing time, scattered thoughts, and periods of long confusion.

These periods ended. What remained was a creeping sense of dread.]

I'm just glad that you're awake.

[shakenandlimp]

So am I.

Uncommon well rested. Fit to face anything, Lieutenant.

[He gives a firm nod, reassuring.]

Our Mister Kennedy will have to be informed of what's to come, but it needn't be all gloom. I can have the kitchens make a meat pie, and we will have an old wardroom dinner in my cabin, if the two of you are agreeable.

[heisrisen]

[He rarely comes to breakfast anymore. The night terrors are worse than he remembers, but then, last time his memory was unreliable toward the end, too. He sleeps and wakes in fits and starts, despite the reconfiguration of his brain rendering visceral fear into angular kaleidoscopes like the maws of cambrian predators. He lingers and ponders and dozes, twitches awake again.

Perhaps he should go into the lab and adjust the mechanism. But he's not sure he trusts his own math, at the moment.

So his breakfast is Bush's lunchtime, a mug of hot black tea and, after some bleary poking at the fruit bowl, an apple, both of which he abandons when he catches sight of Bush. A moment of staring, of the odd missing-stair contradiction of being mentally but not emotionally confused, expecting a rush of delight that doesn't come except in sudden pink rosettes, a literal flurry of affection overlaid on his vision. Then he jolts, just a moment later, flicks the feeling to experiential, scrambles over to grab Bush in a tight hug.]

[shakenandlimp]

Ah! Majesty!

[He has heard from Zane about the disconnection and sulkiness, and is prepared, at a moment's notice, to give the offered talking-to, but that doesn't diminish his delight a whit. He embraces the Emperor tightly.]

Gracious, you look a state! Oh, dear, I am glad to see you, though.

[heisrisen]

I am a state.

L'etat, c'est moi. Les etoilles, c'est moi. Tout ce petit monde cassé.

[The state is me. The stars are me. All this little broken world.]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush's reaction to French is honest puzzlement writ large over his whole face, brow furrowed up, head slightly cocked.

Finally:]

Yes, Zane had mentioned you were in a mood.

[heisrisen]

I'm going mad again. No doubt it won't last.

[He tugs Bush impatiently toward one of the couches so he can curl up beside him, rest a head on Bush's shoulder in a way their heights make inconvenient when standing.]

I feel like a little wriggling thing in a tide pool.