FIC: The Green Jacket [5/5]

[splix]

Title: The Green Jacket
Author: Alex
Fandom: Crossover: Sharpe/To the Ends of the Earth
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Richard Sharpe and Edmund Talbot belong to Bernard Cornwell and William Golding, respectively. No money made, no harm intended.
Summary: Young Edmund Talbot makes the crossing to Australia in the occasional company of Captain Richard Sharpe.
Warnings: First section only: attempted sexual assault, nothing overtly graphic.
Notes: While watching To the Ends of the Earth, I was delighted to see Riflemen aboard the ship that carried the young and luscious Edmund Talbot [Benedict Cumberbatch] to his destination. Naturally, I thought of the most famous Rifleman....

Part One: A Daring Rescue
Part Two: Mal de Mer
Part Three: War's End
Part Four: Between Wind and Water





5. Sydney Cove



*


Last night Captain Sharpe and I dined at the home of His Excellency the Governor. I presented Sharpe to His Excellency with justifiable and, I thought, pardonable pride, and endeavoured to scrape acquaintance on Sharpe’s behalf, but that was hardly necessary, as His Excellency is late of His Majesty’s army and the two found very much in common. Indeed, His Excellency bade Sharpe sit at his right hand and regaled him with the wildest tales, and later, when the rest of the guests were assembled for a short musical evening, drew Sharpe into his private library. Pleased at their free-and-easy camaraderie, and with a burning curiosity, I contrived to be absent for a short while, and peered in to see the two of them huddled over what appeared to be campaign maps – I cannot be sure, naturally, as I am unfamiliar with military trappings save the little I have observed from Sharpe himself. I was delighted to see that they had become such fast friends, however, and congratulated myself not a little, for it was not inconceivable to me that His Excellency might offer Sharpe a commission of some kind. I was prepared to petition on his behalf as well, should Sharpe’s own reputation prove inadequate.

Later, nearly at the end of the concert, they emerged from the library, and Sharpe sat beside me on a tufted sofa, a wonderful, luxurious piece of embroidered satin delight that neither shifted on a salt-stained deck nor smelled of bilge and cow dung. He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “You’re looking grand, sir.”

I confess I had dressed specially, for I had not seen Sharpe for days. The landing and my new duties – for I had assumed them almost immediately – left me little time for social congress, but as I grew accustomed to them, I began to make room, little by little, for more besides work. If a man only works and has not leisure, he grows cross and costive, old before his time, and I vow that will not happen to me. And so, in anticipation, I took particular pleasure in dressing that evening. New stockings, a new neckcloth, a freshly cleaned and pressed coat and breeches, and even new gloves, for there are, astoundingly, shops that carry handsome accoutrements here, much of it made from India silk, cheap to import by all accounts. Sharpe, too, was looking fine and virile, even dazzling, in a dress uniform he had not troubled to wear once on board. I did not fight the swell of pride and possession that rose in my heart at the sight of him.

As his breath and his lips brushed softly against my ear, I could not prevent a delicious shiver. “I wonder if you might be free this evening, Captain.”

“I were about to ask you the same thing.”

“Capital.” The music came to an end, and we all clapped politely, though in truth the performances were lackluster at best. I shall have to see about finding a decent ensemble for more important evenings here. “My trap is outside, and there is room for two.”

My little house is not far from the Governor’s palace, and we reached it in short order. I showed him round, still enchanted with the idea of comforts after so many long months at sea. He showed more interest in my books than I would have thought, and I offered my meager library for as long as he should wish to avail himself of it. As usual, he did not speak much, but took in his surroundings with an appreciative eye, and I yearned to possess him. With more haste than usual I dismissed the servants (because the house is so small, they do not live in, a minor inconvenience, but at times when utter privacy is desired, a boon and a blessing) and offered to show Sharpe the garden.

The singing of night birds and insects provided a far lovelier counterpoint to the evening than the sad scratchings of the Governor’s ensemble, and the mingled fragrance of a dozen different flowering shrubs and trees filled the night with a sweet perfume. I carried a lantern and pointed out the few plants I knew. “I am no gardener, to be sure, but I cannot but think that this natural profusion is more pleasing in its way than formal gardens. After carefully raked paths and planned beds in carefully chosen colors and shrubs cut into the most tortured shapes, this is a relief.”

“It’s pretty,” Sharpe said, and took the lantern from me to examine a broad white flower with a crimson center. He leant forward and inhaled its scent. “Smells pretty too.”

“It is heady stuff, is it not? I shall have it rendered into a perfume, I think – far more exotic than lilies or orange-water.”

Sharpe smiled, and looked up into the night sky. The stars, and most especially the great crux, shone brilliantly above us, jewel-like and flashing. “You like it here, lad?”

“I have scarcely stopped a moment to think let alone ponder on whether I like it here, for my time has been occupied almost to the minute. But upon reflection…yes, I do. Yes, I think the life will suit me. Early days, of course, but if I adapted myself to life at sea, I think I should adapt myself as well to a life in this land of heat and blooms.”

“That’s good,” Sharpe murmured, and bent to sniff at another flower.

I watched him with some disappointment. I had hoped that we would fall into an embrace the very moment we stepped outside, but once again he held himself apart from me. It was a new chapter, I told myself; no longer forced to an existence of furtive assignations, we must needs learn to negotiate in this entirely different sphere. I looked forward to the discoveries we would make together. “But what of you? I gather your time with His Excellency was well-spent.”

“Aye. He had some stories. I’d not believe half of them if I hadn’t had some mad ones of my own.” Sharpe turned away from the flower and sat on a little stone bench. His shoulders hunched low, and his face was downcast in the lantern’s soft glow.

“Indeed! You spent half the night together. I found myself a touch jealous.” I spoke lightly, jesting to remove the gloom from his face. “I had always thought soldiers to be most stoical fellows, but His Excellency is particularly jovial and garrulous, I find.”

“Aye, he is.” Sharpe clasped his hands together. I watched the long fingers knit and unwind and yearned to have them on my body. “I hear that Boney might be planning to re-form his troops.”

“Surely not. To-night at dinner, His Excellency himself assured us that Bonaparte is a beaten man. Did you not hear?” Sharpe gave me a steady, patient look. “Ah. I see. He assures us to assuage any possible fears, and confides a different thing entirely to a fellow-soldier.”

“He’ll tell you himself in the next day or so, I reckon.”

“I should think so.”

“They’ll have to be ready for him, if he does come.”

“I imagine so,” I said, and sat down beside him. “I rather think that –“ I stopped as a sudden poisonous certainty took root and flowered in my chest. I could not speak for a moment, for I grew breathless, and a great stabbing pain centered itself in me and twisted without mercy. Sharpe sat in silence, his face averted from mine. “You’re leaving.”

Sharpe reached for my hand and, drawing off my glove, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm. “I have to, lad. There’s a ship that sails tomorrow –“

“No!” I wrenched my hand away, blindly stumbled upward, then sank to my knees before him. “Pray do not go, Captain. I know I am not – I am not all you would wish. I know you must crave the company of women, also. Take one – take as many as you desire. Marry, have children, but please –“ I heard my voice crack like a young boy’s, and felt tears come into my eyes. “Please do not leave. I have vowed to speak to His Excellency on your behalf, and I will use every last shred of influence I possess to propel you toward a glittering career. Think of it – perhaps one day I shall be Governor and you –“

Gentle fingers pressed against my lips. “Hush now, lad. You can’t talk like that. You’ll break my heart.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me on the mouth. “You’ve stolen it already.”

I pressed my ungloved hand to Sharpe’s, still cradling my cheek, and wept unreservedly. “Then why are you leaving?”

“Oh, God.” He drew me close and embraced me, and I clung to him tightly. I had wild and hazy thoughts about abducting him before he boarded his ship, imprisoning him, forcing him to come to his senses. “Don’t you see, lad? We’re too different, you and me.” His voice was muffled in my coat; he grasped my shoulders and held me away. “You’re a gentleman, you are – a fine house, a position, grand friends. I’m nowt but a soldier.”

“But I can help you advance. And – and I have changed. I’m not the same Edmund Talbot who boarded the ship in England – can you not see that? Do you take me for such a fool? Do you think I don’t know how fine you are, how brave and good –“ I grasped his hands. “Please. I beg you to stay.”

For an answer, he leant forward again and kissed me, and I felt my heart break. I laid my head in his lap and cried like a child, and he smoothed my hair and stroked my back and murmured comfortingly. When the worst of the storm had passed, he drew his fingertips over my wet cheek and gave a deep sigh. “You must be tired.”

I was exhausted, but I would not let him go. Not yet. “Perhaps…perhaps we can say a proper farewell.”

“I didn’t like to ask.”

A brief laugh spiraled from my throat. “Captain Sharpe, your gentlemanly reticence far outpaces mine, I assure you.” I dashed tears from my eyes. “If we had engaged in intimate congress and then you had told me, I would not have been offended.”

“Aye, but ladies tend not to like that sort of thing.”

“But I am no lady.”

“So I’ve noticed.” He smiled at me. “All right then, Mr. Talbot. Lead the way.”

My bedchamber is small, but perfectly adequate and as fresh and comfortable as can be. Sharpe whistled softly at the bed piled with pristine white linens as he closed the door. “That’s grand, isn’t it?”

“Infinitely preferable to a stinking cabin.” I sighed, unhappy that I had reminded myself he was leaving, and dropped my gloves on a dainty ivory-inlaid escritoire. “And you must endure another aeon of wretched accommodations, Captain. I begin to doubt your common sense.”

Sharpe smiled. “I thought you got used to it.”

“I did, but enduring it again so soon is nothing I desire keenly, I assure you. Otherwise I might just come with you.” I sat on my bed and brushed ruefully at the grass stains on my stockings.

“And leave your position? You’d be mad to do that, sir.”

“Edmund,” I whispered, gazing up at him.

“Richard.”

“Don’t tempt me.” I shrugged out of my coat and tossed it upon a chair, then unfastened my waistcoat and neckcloth.

Sharpe moved closer, leant down, and slipped off my shoes, setting them neatly to one side. He tugged down my stockings and reached up to unbutton my breeches. I was already hard, ready for him. He grasped the ends of my neckcloth and pulled me into a deep kiss. I yielded to him, allowed him to strip me entirely naked, and guided his mouth down until he suckled me, evoking choked cries that I did not trouble to stifle. At length he stood and undressed as I watched, relieving himself of all military trappings: sword belt and sash, shoulder belt, jacket, boots, shirt, stockings, trousers, until he was as naked as I. I gaped frankly; how beautiful he was, dappled gold in the candlelight, how finely modeled, and as ready as I.

I pointed to the dressing-table. “The small bottle. Pray retrieve it, Richard.” As he did, I pushed down the bedclothes and waited with trembling heart as he approached. Presently he climbed into bed beside me, and we clung together, fondling one another and embracing and kissing, unhurried, for we had mere hours now, and each moment became a pearl beyond price. Sharpe was generous, tender, and manly, and I only hope that I paid back in kind.

“Turn over, love.” As I did, he caressed my backside gently, cupping its lower curve and murmuring in appreciation. He kissed me intimately, kisses I had never before experienced, kisses that brought a hot blush to my face and near-unbearable pleasure to my enflamed senses. When he at last parted my legs and entered me, I grasped helplessly at the sheets and keened. He moved with care, but with increasing urgency until we both cried out at the pinnacle of ecstasy and dived together into a warm, silent sea. Afterward, we slept, sated, our naked limbs entwined.


*



He shook me awake as a pink-and-gold dawn filtered through the gauzy white curtains. “I’ve got to go, before your servants come.”

Sleepily, I wound my arms round his neck. “Oh…must you?”

“Aye. See me off, will you, lad?”

I watched him dress, and could not speak for the heaviness in my heart and a tightness in my throat. Tears formed again in my eyes, but would not fall. At last he stood before me, booted and buckled, his hair brushed, and he smiled, though I fancied a brighter gleam than usual in his green eyes.

“You think I’ll do?”

“I think you’ll do remarkably well.” I stood and pulled my shirt on. “Richard…it is perhaps a foolish and sentimental thing to ask of you, but is there something – some token I might have to cherish?”

A smile brought pleasing lines to his face. “Aye, I reckon so, but I don’t know what…” He touched his green jacket, and then plucked a silver button free. “What about that?”

“That will suit admirably.” I kissed it, then kissed him. We walked to the door, and I opened it, letting in the fresh, dewy morning air. I faced him with extreme gravity, and held out my hand. “Farewell, Richard.”

He grasped my arms and drew me into a kiss. “Farewell, Edmund. I shall never forget you.” He stepped back and nodded, then turned and walked down the avenue of eucalyptus with a long military stride. At the end of the avenue, he stopped, turned, and waved.

I raised my hand in salute, still clutching the button of his green jacket.



End.

Comments

[vjezkova.livejournal.com]

You didn´t disappoint me, the end is lovely and in tune. Sharpe is Sharpe, no matter how delightful it would be to let him stay, he would not, could not be happy. Yes, different worlds, different men. After all, Richard did resist to such an offer..,
Wonderfully written, many thanks!

[splix.livejournal.com]

Yes, as much as I would have liked a happy-ever-after, I don't think it would have rung true. I'm so glad you enjoyed it - thank you very much for reading and for your lovely comments throughout. :)