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Abandoned Ship
BY: Elske*** He was pale…far too pale, Commodore
Norrington thought,
staring down at the sleeping lieutenant. The hospital-room itself was monochrome and bleak; the lieutenant's red hair and his own blue uniform seemed out of place in the austere surroundings. Since the room was otherwise unoccupied, the Commodore moved closer, greatly daring; reached out with trembling fingers to caress the other man's cheek, lightly. "Armand…" he breathed, softly, reverently, lovingly. Gillette's eyelids fluttered a bit at that, and Norrington smiled, shifting his fingertips to brush lightly over the lieutenant's lips. "Armand, love," he murmured, leaning closer. "Wake up, just a little?" It was uncertain if the lieutenant obeyed the command or not; at the sound of approaching footsteps, the Commodore quickly straightened and assumed a respectable appropriate distance from the patient. "Ah," the doctor said, rather brightly. "Commodore! Checking up on your men, are you? Quite conscientious of you, sir. You'll be happy to know that none were lost in the incident today, sir." "Good…very good," Norrington replied in a practiced detached tone. "And my lieutenant? Any lasting harm?" "He'll be right as rain in a day or so, sir. He's battered and bruised and nearly-drowned, but he'll live." "Good," Norrington breathed, for once taking no measures to hide his relief. "Very good. I'd like a private word with him when he wakes…I need to discuss some important matters." "Of course. Carry on, Commodore." He waited for a moment to make sure that the doctor was entirely gone before returning to Gilette's bedside. Norrington sat neatly on the edge of the bed, leaned over the patient once more. "Armand?" he murmured. "Armand, are you…" That thought never got finished, on account of the fact that Norrington was quite efficiently interrupted by the lieutenant's arms coming up to pull him closer so that he could be kissed. Quite passionately kissed, in fact. "Mm. I suppose you are awake then," Norrington murmured, a few moments later. "Apparently," Gillette returned, rather blithely. "Alive and awake and everything." He winked at his lover. "I'm so sorry…though… about losing the Interceptor," he added, after a moment. "Shh. If that was anyone's fault, it was mine," the commodore replied. "And it doesn't matter, really…not all that much. Not as long as I still have my Armand." "Your Armand?" The lieutenant smirked, amused. "And here I'd been thinking that you were mine, not the other way round." "My Armand," Norrington insisted, grinning. "My James," the other corrected, leaning up with a smile…that quickly faded into a grimace of pain. "Merde!" he swore softly, as he settled back against the pillows. "Shh…" Norrington breathed, instantly contrite. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest." "Yes, sir," he replied obediently. "We can continue this discussion tomorrow…we do still need a plan of action, you know." Gillette smiled weakly. "Did you just say `plan of action', Commodore?" "Mm. Indeed. I think it will have to be a very…thorough…plan of action, at this rate, wouldn't you agree? We'll probably have to devote most of the night to it, eh, Lieutenant?" "I'd even say that we might do it more than once," he replied drowsily. "Indeed. You can never have too many plans of action, can you?" "No." A pause, and then, softly, "We could start now?" "Not now, Lieutenant," the commodore returned with a tender smile. "But tomorrow…" "You promise?" "I promise. Believe me, I'm quite anxious." "Mmm. Goodnight, James." "Goodnight, Armand." |
