Not when he was like this and wanting nothing more than to finish what he’d started.
But the fire was out of the encounter at the moment, and the lift car came to the button and he got in and rode it up to B deck. A startled senior stared at him as he wiped his nose to keep the blood off the carpet and walked into Legal.
Blue, at the desk inside, gave him a startled look, too.
“You want a tissue?” Blue asked pragmatically, and offered one.
“Thanks,” he said, and as pragmatically took it and blotted his nose before he went into Madelaine’s office.
Madelaine just stared at him. Shocked.
He stared back, still mad, but not mad enough to drip on his grandmother’s carpet. He fell into a chair and made careful use of the tissue.
“Have another,” Madelaine said, offering one. “JR?”
“Chad.” His nose bubbled. “We were discussing my missing property.”
“The spirit stick. I heard about it. I’m very sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I was dismayed. It’s not like this crew.”
“I’m not a good influence.” He had to blot again. But the flow was less. “I made my try at joining in. It’s no good. I don’t belong here.”
“We don’t know the whole story.”
He didn’t fly off. He took a careful, deep breath. “I do.”
“What happened, then?”
“What, specifically, happened? Chad’s pissed that I exist.”
“Did he say that?” Madelaine asked.
“I don’t think he’s real damn happy at the moment!” He laughed, a bitter, painful laughter. “It’s the same damn thing. You think all everybody on this ship is glad I’m here? Not half. Not half. I told JR I want to go back to Pell.”
“But?”
“I didn’t say but.”
“I heard but. You told JR you wanted to go back to Pell, but…”
He let go a soft, bubbling breath. And blotted a flow down his upper lip. And shook his head, because he thought about Jeremy and his throat acquired an unexpected and painful knot.
The silence went on a moment.
“A but, nonetheless,” Madelaine said “There are people on this ship disposed to love you, Fletcher.”
“Yeah, sure.” She was trying to corner him with the love nonsense. He’d heard it before.
“Is that so common?”
“Not so damn common,” he said harshly. “I’ve heard it. This is your new brother, Fletcher. You’ll be great friends. This is your room, Fletcher, we fixed it just for you. We’re sorry, Fletcher, but this just isn’t working out…”
He ran out of breath. And composure. And found it again, not quite looking at Madelaine.
“Great intentions. But I’m getting to be a real connoisseur of families. I’ve had a lot of them.”
“We still haven’t gotten to the but.—You wanted to go back to Pell, but—”
“I’ve forgotten.”
“Do you want to go back to Pell?”
He didn’t find a ready answer. “I don’t know what I want. At this point, I don’t know.”
“All right,” she said, and got up. He took it for a dismissal, and he rose.
Madelaine came and put her hand on his arm; and then put her arms around him, and gave him a gentle hug. And sighed and bit her lip when she stood back and looked at him.
“Tell Charlie put a stitch in that or I’ll be down there.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Listen to your grandmother. James Robert wanted to talk with you about the stick… I said let things ride a little, let the juniors try to work it out. We have concerns outside our hull right now, and the captains can’t divert themselves to settle a quarrel. Operations crew can’t. So they leave it to us. And you to me, as the person responsible. Promise me. Peace and quiet. We’ll work it out.”
“I’ll try,” he said.
“Fletcher. We’re going up, third watch. Don’t take anger into jump. Let it go, this side. Let go of it.”
Spooky advisement. He didn’t take it as a platitude.
“All right,” he said. And took his leave, and went out and down the lift again, headed for sickbay, where he wasn’t surprised to find JR, and Chad.
“Wait your turn,” Charlie said.
“Yessir,” he said, and set his jaw and gave Chad only an intermittent angry glance.
It wasn’t patched. Charlie did take the stitch, and it hurt. Charlie said he had to cauterize the bloody nose because it was dangerous to take that condition into jump, and that was even less pleasant. JR simply stood by, watching matters, and when Charlie was done, relieved him to go off-duty and to his quarters the way he’d sent Chad.
“And stay there,” JR said shortly. “I don’t care who’s to blame, both of you stay in quarters until after jump. That ship in front of us is going up, this ship is engaged, and we can’t afford distractions. I don’t think Chad did it. Do you hear me?”
By then the bruises were starting to hurt, and he didn’t argue the question. Charlie had shot him full of painkiller, and it had made the walls remote and hazy. He was having trouble enough tracking what JR was saying, and had no emotional reaction to it. He didn’t even hate Chad anymore. He just thought, with what remained to him of self-preservation, that he was going to have trouble getting through jump, the way he was.
Fact was, when he got down off the table, he missed the door, and JR grabbed him and walked him to his quarters, opened the door, and got him to his bunk.
“Sleep it off,” JR said “We’ll talk about it the other side.”
Jeremy came in. Fletcher didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he pretended he was still sleeping. He heard Jeremy stirring about, and then Jeremy shook his shoulder gently.
“I brought your supper.”
“Don’t want it.”
“Dessert. You better eat. You’ll be sick coming out of jump if you don’t eat, Fletcher. I’ll bring you something else. I’ll bring you anything you want…”
That was Jeremy, three new programs offered before he’d disposed of the first one. Dessert… a heavy hit of carbohydrate… was somehow appealing, even if his mouth tasted like antiseptic.
He struggled up to a sitting position. His eye, the one with the stitch in the eyebrow, was swollen shut. His ribs felt massively abused. Jeremy set a tray in his lap, and the offering was a synth cheese sandwich.
Considering the condition of his mouth, the detested synth cheese wasn’t a bad choice. He ate the sandwich. He ate the fruit tart dessert while Jeremy jabbered on about the ship they were chasing having started a run, and how Finity’s engines were more powerful than any little pirate spotter’s and how Jeremy thought they didn’t need the Union warship that was running beside them. If Champlain tried a duck and strike maneuver, they’d scatter Champlain over the jump-point
He wasn’t so sure. And his head was spinning. The sugar tasted good. The rest was just palatable. He supposed that he should be terrified of the possibility of the ship going into combat, but maybe it was the perspective of just having been there himself, on a smaller scale: he didn’t care. Jeremy took the tray and he lay down again and drifted out.
At some time the lights had dimmed. He slitted his eyes open on Jeremy moving about the room, trying not to make a racket, checking locker latches. He couldn’t keep awake. Whatever Charlie had shot into him just wasn’t going away, and he thought about Chad and Connor and Sue, and the scene at the laundry pickup. “We ever get our laundry turned in?” he asked, thinking that Chad was going to have to do it, whatever he liked or didn’t like, the work of the ship had to go on. And Jeremy answered: