the Dalaverse

::flaunts icon:: The boys are back. Very dialogue-heavy this time. I got an idea into my head to not only name each bit after U2 songs, but to progress through the early albums as they grow up and apart. This one comes from October, "With a Shout," and man, I never realized how raw those lyrics are. They aren't very good, technically, but you can feel Bono reaching and searching and it's almost painful to hear. Anyway. That fits, too. And now I want to make plum duff next time I'm home, which is a bad idea because Dad can't eat it and Mom wouldn't, so I'd eat the WHOLE thing myself.

Takes place maybe half a year after Stories for Boys



Where We Were Still


Theodore woke to the worst headache of his life and Andrew staring at him as if expecting him to spontaneously birth something horrifying.

“Doctor, he’s awake,” he called without taking his eyes from Theodore. The freckles stood out starkly on his pale face.

“What’s happened?” Theodore whispered. He made an attempt to lift his head, but it was too heavy.

The ship’s surgeon nudged Andrew aside to peer down at him. “I’m afraid you took a nasty blow to the head, son.”

Well, that would explain the cannon fire between his ears. He rolled his head on the pillow, submitting to Dr. York’s brisk examination while Andrew watched anxiously.

“What is your name and rank?” Dr. York asked, lifting his eyelids, checking his pulse.

“Theodore Ellis Groves, midshipman aboard His Majesty’s frigate Kestrel,” Groves recited obediently. “The year is 1695, you are holding up two fingers, and my favorite food is mutton stew.”

Dr. York’s bushy brows drew together in a threatening manner, although his voice was mild. “Cheeky fellow,” he admonished. “I’ll be off to inform the captain of your impending recovery, since I’d need a winch to remove him from your side.” He nodded to Andrew, who crowded close again and ignored him. The door to the sick bay had barely swung shut when Andrew threw both arms around him.

“You right imbecile,” he hissed into Theodore’s ear. “If you ever frighten us like that again, I’ll see that you’re flogged.”

Before he could so much as prove his ire with punishing kisses, the door creaked again and Andrew sprung back. It was a stiff-backed James with one of the senior sailors, a man named Mullins, at his side.

James let out a breath when he saw Theodore. Mullins twisted his cap in his hands and grinned widely at him.

“Glad t’ see ye awake, sir! I was that worried – I dinna mean to hit ye wit’ that load o’ ballast, but ye –”

“Yes, Mr. Mullins, he will be quite all right,” said James in a clipped tone, taking the big man by the elbow. “Best be on about your way now.”

“Aye, sir,” said Mullins, touching his dirty forelock. “Rest up, Mr. Groves.”

Groves smiled at him, trying not to let it develop into a grimace as he sat up. Hit with a load of ballast – yes, that sounded about right. His head hadn’t hurt this badly since he’d fallen off his pony while jumping a barrel and knocked himself silly on a tree root. “Thank you for your concern, Mullins.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but he insisted on seeing you for himself,” James explained, hanging his hat on the back of the door. “How are you feeling?”

Theodore looked at Andrew, who still clasped his hand. “A bit perplexed, I must admit. However did I manage to get myself knocked out like that?”

James and Andrew exchanged more worried glances. “Well, you weren’t exactly looking where you were going,” said Andrew hesitantly.

“We explained it to the captain – we saw the letters in your hammock,” James added. “Theo, we’re so very sorry.”

Letters –?

Abruptly, like cold water closing over his head, it came back to him. He’d gotten his mail, read it, set it aside, and gone wandering up on deck like some half-alive ghoul.

“My father,” he said quite calmly. “My father is dead.” There, he’d just gone ahead and said it. It hadn’t been so difficult. He could do this.

His throat closed and he couldn’t breathe. The throbbing in his head coalesced behind his eyes and spilled forth in hot tears. He brought his hands up to shut out the sight of his friends hovering over him.

Andrew swore and the next thing Theodore knew, he was scrambling over the side of the hanging cot.

“Andrew,” James protested, scandalized. “If York comes back –”

“I don’t care,” said Andrew stubbornly. He wound his arms tightly around Theodore, who muffled his weeping against a salt-smelling, warm linen shirt. It didn’t matter that they’d fought over breakfast this morning. It never mattered once they were touching one another.

He felt James’ hand come down on his head, stroking his short hair back from his brow. “I must go,” he said, and when Theodore looked up, his face was pained. “I’m supposed to be on watch. I only wished to make sure –”

“I’ll be fine, Jamie,” Theodore assured him, pulling back to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “There, now you can give me a kiss without it being completely disgusting.”

“Just the usual amount of disgust, then?” said Andrew, ducking under Theodore’s chin.

James leaned down to peck quickly at his lips. “I would have kissed you anyway,” he murmured.

The sight of the door closing on him made Theodore’s heart beat fast tight with alarm. Don’t be ridiculous, he berated himself. We’re in port, nothing is going to happen to James.

“Breathe,” Andrew ordered. He spread his fingers over Theodore’s diaphragm, nodding in approval when he took deep, slow breaths. It helped stop the tears, though his heart was still thundering with panic. Andrew pressed his ear to the sound, then his mouth.

“It hurts to breathe,” he whispered.

“I know,” said Andrew softly, and Theodore was ashamed to have forgotten that Andrew had lost both his parents a few years ago.“But you will get through this, Teddy, ma chroí.”

Theodore peered at him curiously. Andrew spoke perfect French, but he never used the language, and that hadn’t quite sounded like French. “What does that mean?”

“It’s nothing,” said Andrew, sliding up the cot to draw Theodore’s head against his chest. “Just nonsense.”

They both sat up straight at the sound of a voice just outside. A man in a coma would have snapped to attention, Theodore thought.

“Good afternoon, Captain Phillips, sir,” James bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Have you come to see Mr. Groves?”

“What a good boy,” said Theodore, straightening the bedding as Andrew leapt out.

“That’s our James,” he agreed with a hushed laugh. “Always looking out for his fellow man.”

By the time the captain entered, Theodore was sitting comfortably against a suspension chain, Andrew perched in a chair by his side. Phillips frowned in the direction James had gone. “Is young Norrington quite all right? He seems to be going deaf.”

Theodore tried very hard not to look at Andrew. Phillips’ own difficulties with hearing were rather well-known among the fleet.

“I believe he stood too near a cannon in our last skirmish, sir,” said Andrew. His voice held a tremor that Theodore knew meant he was holding back laughter. For a moment he was threatened by mirth again,

Your father is dead. What could you possibly find amusing?

He knew his face had changed, gone distant, and he hoped Andrew would leave before getting the chance to notice.

Captain Phillips, bless him, waved a hand at Andrew. “May I have a moment to speak privately with Mr. Groves?”

“Certainly, sir,” Andrew said, his voice rising nervously. He was still unused to Phillips’ exceptional politeness and it made him uncomfortable. He cast a last look at Theodore, full of sorrow and worry and apology, before he stepped out.

The captain cleared his throat, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. “I was very sorry to hear about your father, Mr. Groves. I met him twice – my son was a friend of your brother Joseph’s at school – and he was a good man.”

“Thank you,” said Theodore, glad to find that his tears were under control again. He wondered if Phillips’ son looked as much like him as Joseph looked like Da. Theodore, like his sisters, took after their mother in looks, dark-complected and slender. Joe had inherited Richard’s stocky build, his blue eyes – the older he became, the closer grew the resemblance.

The estate would go to Joe now. Of course he lived elsewhere and Mother would keep the home, but it would be Joe who sat in the chair at the head of the table whenever they rounded up the whole family, Joe who gave out the children’s Christmas oranges, Joe who carved the duck at Easter –

He blinked, realizing Phillips was speaking. “– which a fellow with a sharper eye might have noticed earlier, but we do what we can, yes, and ‘twill necessitate a week in port for repairs.” He regarded Theodore with somber brown eyes.

“Yes, sir,” said Theodore without having the slightest clue what he meant.

“And keeping in mind your recent loss, I will grant you leave for that time, to travel home and see your family.”

Groves sat up straight. He had missed the funeral, but he felt a childish need to suffer his mother’s crushing embrace. “Thank you very much, sir.”

Phillips smiled benevolently at him. “Your fellow midshipmen may take their leave as well, if you have want of companions for the journey.”

“That is kind of you, Captain,” said Theodore earnestly. The captain was well aware of how close the three of them had become over the past months – well, perhaps not aware of precisely how close, but it was a thoughtful gesture all the same. He felt a twinge of guilt about the talk that floated around regarding Captain Phillips. He might have been past his prime, and his ship far from a plum posting, but he was good to his men.

And just now, he was extremely good to Theodore – clasped his shoulder and squeezed it gently as he might have done to comfort his own child. “You may depart as soon as the good doctor deems you well enough to travel.”

“Thank you again, sir, and may I have the privilege of telling Mr. Norrington and Mr. Gillette the news?”

Phillips nodded. “Of course, son. Now get your rest.”

After Theodore had slept, supped, and wheedled Dr.York into releasing him from care, he went off to the officers’ mess. Dropping down onto the bench between James and Andrew, he slung an arm over each pair of shoulders and drawled, “How would you lads fancy a trip to the country?”




“I think,” said James, clutching his stomach, “your mother has tried to kill me with suet pudding.”

Theodore tossed the blankets down and flopped on top of them. “Well, you didn’t have to eat so much of it,” he reasoned. The heap of custard he’d had wasn’t riding too easily, either, and he was glad to stretch out flat.

“She kept putting more on my plate,” said James plaintively. “It would have been rude to refuse.”

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Theodore grinned up at him. Mary Groves had taken to both boys, knowing they’d lost their own mothers, but Andrew had after all grown up with one, while James was entirely unused to being smothered with feminine attention. “She likes you,” he said with some degree of pride.

“So do your sisters,” Andrew piped up over his shoulder. He was sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the loft, watching the sleepy horses milling about below.

James groaned while Theodore laughed. “I warned you, didn’t I? Even Diana batted her eyelashes at you, and she’s only twelve. Though really, I can’t say I blame them,” he added, drawing a scowling James down beside him. “Andrew, do come join us.”

“In a moment,” said Andrew, contrary as ever. He popped a piece of straw in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “There really are a lot of females in your family, aren’t there?”

“You’ve a sister,” Theodore pointed out.

He could tell that Andrew was rolling his eyes from the slight list of his head. “Yes, but she doesn’t live near. You have six, and a slew of nieces as well.”

Theodore shrugged. He had never thought much about coming from a large family, but clearly it was new to Andrew, who wasn’t terribly close to his only sibling, and to James, who had none – but James wasn’t the one complaining. “If you find them so very trying, you should be grateful we’re sleeping in the barn.”

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” said Andrew, turning around, his wide eyes contrite.

James laid his head on Theodore’s shoulder. “Your tongue may get you into trouble someday, Andrew,” he said gently.

Andrew bit his bottom lip, the tops of his ears turning red. “I know it. Forgive me, Teddy, please...”

“Of course,” said Theodore, as quick to forgive as he was to take offense. He crooked a finger at the other boy. “Rub my belly and all will be forgotten.”

James kissed his cheek as Andrew scooted over. “What, pray tell, is wrong with your belly?”

“It is in agony,” Theodore moaned. “You’re not the only one who found himself unable to refuse Mother’s pudding.”

The warm pressure of Andrew’s palm began to ease the grumbles. James propped himself up on an elbow and nimbly unbuckled Theodore’s belt.

“Mr. Norrington,” Theodore mock-protested, “are you proposing to take advantage of me in my weakened state?” He squirmed, helping James get his trousers off while Andrew looked down at them and smiled like a stalking cat.

“Certainly, Groves,” said James crisply. He bent over Theodore’s prone body, licking Andrew’s fingers, and waggled his eyebrows at Theodore’s expectant face. “Are you proposing to resist?”

“Damn your gumption, James,” Theodore sighed, his hips jerking as James mouthed at hardening flesh. Andrew, seeing things at that end were taken care, occupied himself with kissing Theodore into blissful oblivion.

Sometime later, when they were all three sated and snug beneath a green-and-yellow quilt, Andrew murmured against Theodore’s ear, “How are you, truly?”

Theodore stiffened, James’ fingers going still where they had been stroking over his now-quiet stomach. In all honesty, he had known this was coming. The two of them had let him alone for the whole of the week, even when they’d gone to see the grave, but it was their last night here. He stared at the sharp angles of the roof beams over his head.

“I’m all right, I think,” he said at last. “Truly. I wish I could have seen him one last time, but it did me good to come home. This has made it...real, somehow. Which might be awful, but I would rather feel in my heart that he’s gone than tell myself he is still here waiting for me.”

James made a low sound in the back of his throat and curved his arm around Theodore’s waist.

“I understand,” said Andrew, sliding down to rest his head on Theodore’s breast. “My uncle wanted to keep me away from what was left of the house, but I snuck away one night and walked around the first floor. I had to see it – see the ashes. I had to prove to myself that they weren’t still there.”

Theodore craned his neck to look at James for his input. They had put the lantern out for safety’s sake, but there was just enough moonlight coming through the open window to see the creases of old grief on his face. “I don’t remember my mother,” he said. “I was very small when she died. My father doesn’t like to speak of her, but he kept her room just as she’d left it, for years and years. I was forbidden from entering it, but I wandered in one day while he was gone. He came home to find me on the floor, playing with my tin soldiers in a puddle of her silk dressing gown, and it was the first and only time he ever slapped me.”

It was rare for James to talk about his father, and they had only ever gotten the impression that the two didn’t get on well. Having some idea now of the rift between them, Theodore’s chest ached. He touched James’s face where the mark might long ago have lingered.

And Andrew, curled against him like he meant to be a mantle against the cold – Andrew had been so dear these past few days. Perhaps because he’d gone through the same thing, if loss could ever really be experienced as such, he always seemed to know exactly when Theodore wanted closeness and when he needed solitude. He lifted his head to press his lips against Andrew’s coppery hair, curled at the ends from the remnants of perspiration.

“If I had a lifetime and several languages, I could not sufficiently thank the both of you for...” He paused, unable to express what he meant – not just for supporting him in this, but for all the days and nights they’d spend together. “For everything,” he finished, his voice near to breaking on the last word.

“There is no need,” James said, mouth brushing his temple. Andrew said nothing, only captured Theodore’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Theodore swallowed his surging emotion and said forcefully, “Let us talk of pleasant times instead.”

“Like breakfast,” James offered instantly. “Eggs and fresh milk – porridge with real fruit –”

Theodore chuckled. “And my mother will attempt to stuff it all down your throat, never fear. ‘My word, you boys are as thin as pikes,’” he said, mimicking his mother’s lovingly exasperated tone. “‘Don’t they feed you on those great big ships?’”

“They feed us enough to keep us fit, ma’am,” said James loyally.

Now Theodore spoke with a high, girlish trill. “‘Oooh, they certainly do, Mr. Norrington! Tell me more about the sailor’s life, it is so utterly fascinating.’”

Andrew muffled his laughter against Theodore’s neck while James sniffed in irritation. “Which one was that? Patricia?”

“No, Patty is the only shy lass in the whole family. That was Victoria, who is constantly telling me to quit running my mouth off at the table because if she was interested in little boats pittering about on the water, she’d give my nephew Peter a bath.”

“It’s a relief to know you aren’t the only Groves burdened with the dubious gift of sarcasm,” said James dryly.

“But I am the cleverest one, aye?” Theodore prompted him with a pout.

James laughed, kissing him heartily. “Indeed. You need not worry I’ll leave you for one of your sisters, Theo.”

“Good, because girls are indescribably strange creatures,” said Theodore. “You are much better off with Andrew and me. Though I daresay you’ll attract even more once you’re promoted.”

He smiled at the way James ducked his head, bashful. “I wish you’d stop bringing that up.”

“Why?” Theodore wanted to know. “It will be any day now.”

Andrew stretched, settling himself more comfortably against Theodore. “You know it as well as we do, James.”

“Well...well, the two of you are sure to make lieutenant soon as well,” said James in an awkward rush.

Theodore shook his head thoughtfully, privately amused at James’ unconquerable sense of fair play. “I quite like being a mid. You can put off all that responsibility for awhile, and they let you frolic from time to time.”

“You’ve a better chance than I, in any case,” Andrew muttered.

James frowned. “What do you mean, Andrew?”

“Nothing,” said Andrew, voice muffled as he stuck his head under Theodore’s arm. Theodore could feel the blood rushing to his face, warming his skin. He started to tell James to let it lie, but the other boy was half-sitting now, his curiosity stimulated.

“You are perfecly capable in your own right,” he insisted. “You have been at sea for two years, and I know you have higher ambition than –” He made a face, looking to Theodore in apology. “Forgive me, Theo, but it’s true.” Theodore shrugged; he’d said as much himself.

“It isn’t skill or desire holding me back,” said Andrew quietly, “it’s blood and name. Uncle William’s influence won’t hold forever, not for the son of a Frenchman and a shepherd’s daughter from County Cork.”

Theodore winced. He had heard the occasional crack from a lieutenant about Andrew’s parentage – had once wanted to provoke a fight over one, in fact, and would have gladly borne the consequences if Andrew hadn’t begged him to let it go. But Andrew never wanted to discuss the incident, and he’d had no idea it weighed so heavily on his friend’s mind.

James was sitting bolt upright now, uncaring of his nudity, his face indignant. “But that’s absurd! What does it matter where your parents were born, if you’re an English citizen and you’ve the mettle to prove yourself?”

Andrew and Theodore exchanged a look, both knowing that it did matter. Andrew’s mouth thinned in a bitter line.

“It shouldn’t matter in the least,” James declared, huffing. “It isn’t right.”

“No, it’s not,” said Theodore, to placate him and to give Andrew some peace. He yanked on James’ arm until he lay back down. “But I thought we were to talk of pleasant things, like Mum’s pudding.”

“It was a wonderful pudding,” Andrew piped up, smacking his lips. “Best I’ve ever had. Don’t you think so, James?”

James’ rigid limbs began to relax at Theodore’s side. “Yes,” he said after taking a deep breath. Good boy, Theodore thought, patting his thigh. If things had been reversed, Andrew would have argued until the cock crowed.

“Sleep is also very pleasant,” Andrew commented. “We are keeping the horses up.”

They were quiet for several moments, breathing settling into a companionable rhythm. Theodore closed his eyes, listening to the low whuffing noises from the stalls below, relishing the scent of horseflesh and leather and sweet hay. It was the scent that always wafted up from his father’s clothing when he came in from his evening ride and swept his younger son up in one arm. His heart had faltered and stopped with that scent still clinging to him. It comforted Theodore to know that no matter where he went afterwards, he’d taken home with him.

Thinking of comfort, he remembered Andrew’s words of comfort in that strange tongue nearly a week before.

“Andrew?” He nudged him with a shoulder.

“Hmmm?”

“What was it you called me the day I knocked my head? It sounded like ‘my’ – ‘my something.’”

Andrew hesitated, but James was still awake, and he stretched his arm over Theodore to brush his fingertips against Andrew’s lips. Thus put on the spot, Andrew could not demur.

“It was ma chroí. Gaelic. Means ‘my heart.’”

“Oh,” Theodore whispered, touched and not a bit sorry to have embarrassed him.

“Well, you are,” said Andrew crossly, his toes curling beneath the blanket. “You both are.”

James stroked his hair back and kissed the top of Theodore’s head. “And mine as well.”

“We are a lucky bunch,” said Theodore. The other boys nodded in agreement before finally nodding off.