the Dalaverse

Ahem. OT3. The title should provide ample warning. This is not anywhere near the end, though. Takes place not long after the initial ficlet, Foundation.



A Second to Say Goodbye


The third time Captain Phillips walked by to find both Theodore and Andrew pacing the deck in the same two spots – Theodore in a lopsided oval and Andrew in a tight, tense line – he threw his hands up and ordered them both off his ship. Throwing apologies and thanks over their shoulders, they tumbled into the boat and rowed themselves to the dock, speaking in excited whispers. They hardly noticed the rain spitting angrily in their faces.

“Do you think he has finished by now?”

“I don’t see why not, he’s been there for hours.”

“What if he didn’t pass and he hasn’t returned so as to avoid us?”

“Of course he passed! Don’t be a doomsayer, Andrew!”

“Well, we should prepare ourselves for all contingencies!”

Theodore hauled on the oars and rolled his eyes. During the past couple of weeks, as James’ exam drew nearer, Andrew had started vibrating like a hummingbird every time the topic came up. Theodore wasn’t sure whether Andrew truly wanted James to pass or fail, and he suspected Andrew didn’t know himself.

When they reached the Admiralty, they flattened themselves against the wall by the door, trying to keep beneath the short overhang of the roof. It didn’t keep them very dry, but luckily the rain had stopped by the time James emerged, leaving a pearly gray sky with a pale sun peeking through the clouds.

Andrew and Theodore each clasped an arm. His face was blank and stony; impossible to tell anything from an expression like that.

“James?” said Theodore anxiously. Andrew’s bottom lip disappeared between his teeth.

James looked at both of them in turn. “I made it,” he said in a strained, crackly voice.

Theodore whooped, ignoring Andrew’s attempts to shush him, which were hampered somewhat by the grin stretching across his face. They made as if to hug him, but James pulled away and cleared his throat loudly.

“Mr. Rawley,” he said.

“Rawley?” Andrew frowned. “James, what –”

A tow-headed teenage boy stepped out from behind James. Even Theodore had to look down at him, which meant that James practically towered. But what the lad lacked in height, he made up for in confidence. Sticking his hand out, he said cheerfully, “John Rawley.”

“Captain Phillips’ new midshipman,” said James in response to their puzzled looks. He gave a ‘what can you do?’ shrug. “This is Mr. Gillette and Mr. Groves.”

Rawley shook their hands eagerly, his narrow young face alight. “My mates call me Johnny.”

Knowing that Andrew was annoyed at their private celebration being interrupted, Theodore was expecting the brittle tone. “Your senior midshipmen will call you ‘Mr. Rawley.’”

Theodore coughed on a guilty laugh. James shot them a look that was disapproving but not surprised. Andrew just lifted his chin as the boy wilted a little.

“We had best get back to the Kestrel,” said James, blinking up at the sky, “before this blasted rain starts up again.”

“We can’t stop in somewhere for a meal?” Theodore wanted to know. In all the hullabaloo, he hadn’t remembered to eat anything since the night before.

James set off, leaving them no choice but to follow. “I’ll explain everything on the way,” he called over his shoulder. Theodore and Andrew exchanged a dire look, Rawley dragging his sea chest after them.

The new lieutenant proved more loquacious once they were in the boat. His eyes were a brighter shade of green than Theodore had ever seen. They peppered him with questions about the examination, about the admirals, until he finally clapped a hand over Theodore’s mouth and gave Andrew a stern commander’s look.

“If you two won’t be silent for three seconds, I shan’t tell you the most exciting part,” he said.

“You are enjoying holding something over on us far too much,” Andrew remarked.

James ignored him. “Captain Cornelius Belden has agreed to take me onboard the Dauntless.”

“You rotten liar!” Theodore gasped, nearly dropping his oar.

“It’s the truth, I swear it.” He pulled out a letter tucked into his coat pocket. “I have the orders right here.”

As one, the three of them turned to regard the magnificent new man-of-war, anchored a hundred yards from the modest Kestrel. Her lights twinkled in the gloom.

“Oh, James, that’s fantastic!” Theodore exclaimed, squeezing his friend’s knee. “She’s a beauty, no doubt about that.”

“A real fighting captain with a real fighting ship,” Andrew added, his eyes fixed on the Dauntless. “That is where you belong.”

“Cor, I’ve heard of her,” the new midshipman piped up enthusiastically, reminding them all of his presence. “They say she’s bound for India to protect the spice routes, or the Caribbean, or some such place.”

The heat of adrenaline slowly dissipated from Theodore’s blood, leaving him shivering against the chill. He stared at James, whose gaze had dropped to the floor of the boat.

“That was the bit I wasn’t too keen on telling you,” he said quietly, barely moving his lips. “I don’t know precisely where we are bound, but the captain did say it would be far.”

“When?” Theodore heard Andrew’s voice as if from very far away, though he could feel the press of his thigh.

James clasped his hands in his lap, studying them intently. “Tomorrow morning.”

As if on cue, the rain began to fall again.




“That’s the last of it.”

James nodded, closing the lid of the trunk. The click of its locks catching seemed as loud as the thunder outside. Theodore leaned against his bunk, Andrew stood beside him, and James slowly straightened his long legs until he too was on his feet. For a moment, they stared as one at the familiar gray chest with J NORRINGTON painted across the top. Inside, neatly packed, were the things from this world that he would take to his new post. Clothing, compass, and spare shoes; but also a well-worn deck of cards, a lock of his mother’s hair tucked into a velvet pouch, a book from Andrew, a tartan scarf from Theodore. They had gifts from James to keep as well. Theodore felt like flinging it all into the sea.

“For God’s sake,” James cried, turning to face them, “will neither of you look at me?”

Theodore could, though he couldn’t look at Andrew, fearing the exact mirror of his own expression. The ones left behind. And damn me, for no one deserves it more than James, but I...

Raising his head, he saw that James was breathing harshly, his eyes swimming with hurt and panic. “What if I can’t –”

Without waiting to learn what he thought he couldn’t do, Theodore caught him up in a fierce embrace. James’ arms went around him and tightened to the point of pain. Listening to the heart beating like a caged sparrow, Theodore squeezed him and thought, I will never lose this. No one can take this from me.

He felt another arm slip around his waist. Andrew had crept over, holding onto them both, his cheek on James’ shoulder. Theodore met his eyes long enough for understanding to pass between them. There would be time for shattered hearts later, a time the two of them could share. At this moment, however, James needed them more.

Turning his face into James’ chest, he said in a throaty but strong voice, “You will be fine, Jamie. You’re going to do great things. Haven’t we told you this for ages?”

“Yes,” said James with half a sob, “but now I – so sudden –”

“We knew it was coming,” Andrew pointed out in his sensible, even voice, the one he used when he hadn’t the strength or interest to argue. “We knew this – the three of us together – that it must come to an end.”

James huddled in their arms, as if by making himself smaller he could leave more behind than an empty bunk and a few knickknacks. Theodore ran both hands down his body, more familiar than his own, and could not bear to let him go without touching him one last time. He dropped to his knees without the slightest bit of grace and began working his fingers into James’ breeches.

“Theo, what are you –” James sucked in a breath when Theodore got his cock out.

“Something to remember me by,” he said, aiming a lopsided grin upwards, before taking James’ half-hard shaft into his mouth.

James groaned, combing his fingers through Theodore’s hair. “I’d be hard pressed to forget that.”

“Shhh,” Andrew admonished. Theodore heard his footsteps fade away. “Only old Tellherd in lieutenants’ berth, and he is snoring away.” His sleeves came into the edge of Theodore’s vision as he wrapped his arms around James from behind. James slumped against him, minimizing the slight distance in their heights and making Theodore readjust his stance. “Still, you had best be quick.”

Theodore grumbled deep in his throat, sending the waves of sound up through the head of James’ cock. James twitched like a puppet on a string, clutching at Theodore’s hair. Theodore ignored the discomfort and concentrated on sucking him hard and fast, uninterested in finesse, in anything but bringing James pleasure. He could hear Andrew murmuring in James’ ear, though he couldn’t make out the words.

“I know, I know,” James gasped. “I’ve always known.”

His rhythm faltered for a beat. What was Andrew saying to him? They were kissing now, hungrily and noisily, but Theodore’s thoughts stayed with Andrew’s quiet words. Had he been telling James that he loved him?

It was a sentiment they had never expressed, not in those terms, not even in the dark and the safety of a landside room. It was an unspoken agreement between them, the terms of which Theodore had never fully comprehended. He reasoned that perhaps the losses they’d each suffered put up certain barriers, in language if not in actual emotion.

But Andrew had said it – must have said it – and he had purposefully done so at a volume that Theodore couldn’t hear. Andrew never said anything without a purpose, even if he didn’t always think that purpose through.

James thrust desperately into his mouth, forcing his mind from the sudden stab of jealousy. Theodore managed a glance upwards to see abandonment on James’ face, a different color of the same on Andrew’s. His jaw worked, wanting to grind his teeth, but with his lips spread over them he only managed to draw his own blood.

The sensation caused a cry to burst from James’ lips, quickly muffled by Andrew’s kiss.Theodore swallowed his release, the bitter taste mingling with copper in his mouth.

By the time they got him tucked back into his breeches, James had stopped trembling. There was a new gravity to his posture, a clarity in his eyes. When he grasped Theodore again, it didn’t seem like his arms would fall off before he could be persuaded to let go.

“Never in my life,” said James in a low, sincere voice as he pulled Andrew close as well, “have I known anyone even remotely like the two of you.”

Theodore bumped his nose against James’ chin. “You needn’t sound so antagonized when you say that.” James laughed shakily. “But we will see each other again,” he continued with a bravado he didn’t feel.

“Yes,” said Andrew quietly. His demeanor seemed as changed as James’ had been. Theodore resented them for it; he felt exactly the same amount of destroyed.

James kissed them both, swiftly, and each took a step back. Andrew and Theodore were hefting the heavy trunk between them when Rawley came barreling through the door to tell them that the Dauntless’ boat was arrived and Captain Belden would be greatly obliged if Mr. Norrington would join him for a late supper.




“Say something,” Theodore implored after nearly an hour of silence. Andrew was lying flat on his back in his bunk, Theodore swinging idly in his hammock and watching him. The new boy had disappeared into the crew’s quarters, drawn by laughter, rum, and the sweet pitch of a fiddle. They were both shirking their duty by allowing it, but Theodore didn’t much care.

Still Andrew did not speak. Theodore reached out to pinch his arm. “I’ve never known you to be quiet for so long. Unless it’s a cruel silence, and this isn’t.”

“I am trying not to think,” said Andrew, slowly and deliberately.

“About James?” He whispered the name.

Andrew turned his head to look at him, blue eyes pale and dry in the lantern light. “About anything.”

Theodore was struck by a sudden desire to thrash him, to give him something else to hurt about, something for which only he was responsible. He clenched his fists. It passed quickly and his face warmed from shame.

In the end, it didn’t matter if Andrew cared more for James. Theodore would rather be his second choice than anybody else’s first choice. Surely there was enough left between them for that.

He rolled out of the hammock, shucking his trousers but leaving his shirt. Easier to explain a half-dressed state if anyone should interrupt. Andrew watched him, closing his eyes when Theodore swung himself up. Jaw clenching, he helped Theodore bare his belly, his thighs, his cock. He’d snuck the last of the oil into James’ things, but they could get more later, and they had done this often enough that Andrew’s spit-slicked fingers were sufficient preparation.

Straddling Andrew’s waist, Theodore slowly sank down onto him. He told himself to breathe through – the stretch, oh God – and then the feeling of fulfillment when he could sink no deeper. Andrew hissed past gritted teeth, grabbed Theodore’s braced arms, spasmed beneath him as if he sought to get away.

“Look at me, Andrew,” Theodore said, distantly surprised to hear himself growl like some thirsting beast. Andrew’s eyelids fluttered. He lifted one shaking hand to touch Theodore’s bitten lips.

“Teddy,” he breathed, his face almost confused. Theodore wondered if it was James he’d seen in the back of his mind. He hoped bruises would bloom on his thighs, on Andrew’s hips, to mark them as surely as their initials carved into the heartwood of this ship. We were here, we loved one another, that is forever.

Andrew arched up and Theodore’s spine bent to meet him, their mouths clashing with more blind need than intent. He pushed his tongue into Andrew’s mouth in time with the downward thrusts, with Andrew’s hand on his cock.

With a strangled moan, Andrew pulled away. “Teddy,” he said again, raggedly, “James...” Theodore rode him harder, hurling himself toward release from the pressure gathering in his belly, from the awful constriction inside his ribcage. “James...is...”

“I know, damn it all to Hell –” And Hell must have heard its name being spoken, for it yanked him down into darkness beneath the waves.

The next thing he became aware of was the lesser variant of Andrew’s annoyed voice. “Theodore, I cannot breathe.”

Theodore lifted himself with some effort, wincing at the damp shirt clinging to his skin, the soreness of his backside, and the sticky mess coating his stomach. Easing him to one side, Andrew wiped them both off with a corner of his blanket.

“Thank you,” said Theodore softly.

Andrew nodded, then dropped his head onto Theodore’s shoulder. For awhile they lay still, arms and legs entangled, fitting onto the bunk as three growing boys had never managed to do. Theodore wanted very badly to let himself drift off, but he knew better than that. Eventually he noticed that much of the sounds of merriment had died away, and he stumbled out of bed.

Half-asleep, Andrew squinted up at him. “Good night,” Theodore said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Andrew murmured in response, turned over, and was snoring by the time Theodore dropped into his hammock. Before his head hit the pillow, he glanced over at James’ bunk, fastidiously made for the benefit of his replacement.

Rawley returned, staggering and hiccuping, to find Theodore fast asleep in the bunk where he’d been told to stow his things.

“Oi,” he said, blinking, before shrugging and launching himself at the empty hammock He was glad no one was awake to see him fall out of it twice.




For a few days, Theodore didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Andrew was short with him and surly with others, but it was only to be expected. Having a green, eager fourteen-year-old to deal with helped distract them from the absence of James, even if it didn’t come anywhere near comfort.

Comfort was what he had in mind late on the fourth night, when he strolled out on deck to see Andrew on watch, shoulders hunched against the wind, staring off the port bow. He went to stand beside him, offering bland words about the weather and a surreptitious brush of his right hand. Andrew jerked away from him.

Startled, Theodore held up his arms. It wasn’t uncommon for Andrew to flinch if touched unexpectedly, but he’d certainly been aware of Theodore’s presence this time. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” said Andrew, clasping his hands behind his back, his posture so much like James' that Theodore had to smile.

“Come now, there must be something,” he pressed. “You haven’t started an argument with me in days.” When his jovial tone got no response, he inclined his head and said quietly, “You haven’t touched me, either.”

Andrew shifted from foot to foot. “I am on duty. Can we discuss this later?”

“Discuss what, exactly?” Andrew’s cold demeanor was beginning to make him uneasy. “If there is some problem between us, I want to bring it into the open.”

“Keep your voice down,” Andrew hissed, glancing behind them. Theodore hadn’t raised his voice in the slightest. “Look, Theodore,” said Andrew, ducking his head, “you cannot have expected this to go on forever.”

Theodore frowned at him, puzzled. “Of course I didn’t. We knew James was bound to –”

“I’m not talking about James, I’m talking about – about us.”

The chill of the night deepened, at least in the air Theodore breathed. “What? What do you mean?”

“I –” Andrew turned away from him abruptly. “It is time we let...certain things go.”

“Things?” Now his voice was rising, but Andrew didn’t turn to shush him. “Actions, you mean? Deeds? Feelings?”

Andrew took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You bastard,” Theodore whispered dully.

He whirled around, eyes hot and impassioned. “We aren’t boys anymore, Theodore! You would see the wisdom if only you’d think for a moment.”

Theodore backed away hastily, shaking his head. The urge to argue with him was powerful, but he could not bring himself to argue about this – could not accept the fact that he should have to. He thought only one thing: James would not have to hear this, he would never say such things to James, I am nothing to him without James.

“I’m sorry,” said Andrew, voice forlorn, chin dropping. “Please, Theodore, don’t –”

Theodore squared his shoulders, feeling a throb hit the back of his eyes. “I have bid two farewells in the space of a week,” he said flatly. Friends – lovers – mine, both mine.

Mine to lose, not to keep.

“I won’t be weeping over both.”

Andrew said nothing, for there was nothing left to say. He reached out to grip the rail as Theodore walked away.

He went straight to York, claiming a dizzy, aching head and a persistent pain in his chest, which was not much of a lie. The surgeon grumbled about melancholy youths before stirring something into a tot of rum. It made the liquor taste like ashes in seawater, but Theodore drank it down and stretched out on an unoccupied cot. In his dreams, he chased a wild, haughty bay in a dead meadow, running until his lungs ached, his legs failed, and he collapsed in the brown grass.