Post by conansf on Jun 1, 2011 3:12:10 GMT -8
Summary: Manly men don't talk about their feelings, ever. So what can you do when your partner needs to get over an emotional pothole in life's road? Well, there is this bar....
Crossover with Startrek book series The Captain's Table.
The Night of the Captain’s Table
When James West had a problem his usual method of resolution was to charm it or flatten it, sometimes both.
However in this case the problem was with his fellow agent Artemus Gordon.
The situation involved a lady. Specifically the abrupt departure of said lady from their lives, after Artemus had fallen in love and gone so far as to ask for her hand in marriage.
Lily Fortune had not meant to be unkind but the life she wanted to live did not include a handsome but likely to be absentee husband. To an outside observer Artemus was his old sarcastic self but to his best friend there was faraway look in those dark-chocolate eyes and a sad droop to his partner’s expressive mouth, when he thought he was unobserved, that James didn’t like to see.
James had tried to help. A saloon crawl had convinced him that the only thing worse than Artemus Gordon nursing a broken heart was Artemus Gordon nursing a broken heart and a massive hangover.
Any other distraction had likewise fallen on deaf ears. Artie had flatly refused to attend the society soirees where they could be expected to pick up easy conquests and an innocent comment Jim had made, concerning a certain madam who ran a house of extreme exclusivity, had Artie slamming out of the carriage muttering “never and not about to start” and burying himself in his lab for hours.
Thus it was that James found himself accepting an invitation, alone, to a private poker game with the President and a few fellow officers. Later that night the President courteously asked about the other half of his favourite team and it may have been the very fine brandy but James found him a sympathetic listener.
“Try not to worry James; Gordon is a sensible and worldly man. After all you two have been through I don’t doubt his resilience or fortitude.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jim accepted the drink Grant had poured “Artie does his duty perfectly but Lily knocked his confidence. He’s never asked another woman to marry him as far as I’m aware. He was so nervous; I had to propose for him, he couldn’t get the words out.”
“But you boys charm the very birds from the trees!”
“Those pretty birds are one thing. Lily, well, he respected her. She was an old friend, a smart woman from his thespian background He felt she was eminently suitable. Artie couldn’t help but offer her his hand. “
“Give him time, son. Time heals a broken heart.”
“Sir, I want my partner back now, with all the verve he used to have. I don’t know how to fix this.” James clenched his fist in frustration. “I can’t even blame Lily. She had just discovered that she was free of her mother and could live her life as she wanted. Unfortunately that didn’t include Artie.” Jim sighed “I know that in the scheme of things this may seem trivial.”
“James, if the Past Unpleasantness taught us anything, it taught us that men have feelings that can run as deep as any ocean.”
Grant paused, a blazing smile had transformed Jim’s face and those remarkable eyes were fairly shooting sparks.
“That’s it” James was jubilant, “that’s it. Artie was a Captain,”
“Yes …”
“Sir, I don’t know if you are aware of it but there is a certain bar, where all Captains are welcome and…”
Grant held up a hand “I know it. Take your brother there, it may be the answer.”
“I know it will sir, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me son, that place has a habit of reminding us of its existence when needed.”
But he was talking to the door, James having uncharacteristically bolted.
***************
“ARTIE! You awake?” James burst through the doors of the Wanderer like a compact tornado, severely startling his partner who bolted upright from where he had been reading.
“I am now, James! What the …?”
“Get dressed! We’re going out.”
“Now?!”
“Yes.”
Artie started shaking his head “James, my boy, I don’t…”
James grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Artie to look into his eyes “Please Artie, I know you trust me. Please, come with me.”
Artie was shocked at James’ pleading “Well, of course…”
“Great.” James propelled Artemus down the corridor into his own room before crashing about in his to emerge a minute later to tow his partner out the door and into a waiting carriage. He gave the driver the address of an obscure lane in a dingy part of the city.
“Where are you taking me, James?” muttered Artemus as he watched the streets get darker and lonelier but James just smiled.
***************
Cap eyed the newcomers as they came through the door, which, for just a second he could have sworn resembled a swing door on a saloon. In 19th century Western dress, they were obviously well-to-do.
Ah, yes, Cap remembered the shorter of the two now; challenging green eyes and the scapegrace smile of a fallen angel. Captain James West, senior agent for President Grant. Almost reflexively Cap slammed a hand down on the bar, startling and halting the advance of a handsome young man in a World War 2 airforce greatcoat, who had started to surge toward the westerners, “Just sit tight and have another, Captain H, I think our western friends have other folk to meet tonight.”
Artemus looked around in wonder, this was no ordinary saloon. Sumptuous and tasteful fixtures suited the cheerful music playing, though he couldn’t see where it was coming from and the bar seemed to go on until it made his eyes hurt. James seated himself and waved for the waiter.
A tall, staggering figure dressed in pirate garb threw himself over the bar with a glad cry of “Yes, there’s RUM!”
A handsome young man in a long blue coat climbed to the stage and started singing a ditty about a butler and an upstairs maid. Artie dragged his attention back to the table.
“Where have you brought me, James?”
“It’s called the Captain’s Table. Only captains can enter.”
A group of four swarthy men approached them and threw themselves unto the spare seats at the table. James didn’t object, so neither did Artie. He schooled his face to neutrality; he had seen burn scars similar to these before. Horrific injuries could be caused by the hazardous conditions that existed in steamboat engine rooms. During the war they had been responsible for many deaths and disfigurements. These were among the worst he had seen. High on the skull, the skin and bone had warped to resemble nothing so much as a turtle’s shell. Despite their appearance the men were boisterous, cheerfully greeting Artie and James as if old friends and calling for more ale.
“Just go with it, Artie” explained James “The beer is free, the only price is a story.”
Artie looked non-plussed but followed his lead. “Are they one crew, James?”
“No, they are all captains, like us.”
“Must be a fellowship of survivors.” Artie had heard of such, but never met one.
James shrugged “Something like.”
Cap served the ale, deftly avoiding the swinging arm of Krarrf as he gestured in the middle of a no doubt filthy joke. His nearest companions Kannd and Kourf fell about laughing, while Koloth just bared his teeth and banged his stine on the table in appreciation. “Now it is your turn, Earther.”
Artie blinked at the term, he assumed it meant a dry-land captain, one not of the navy service.
“My turn for a story? Well, I’m not sure…”
“I’ll start it” said James, surprising Artie.
Koloth toasted him “Make it a good one. We are in the mood for blood and honour tonight.’
Artemus got the feeling they weren’t talking metaphorically.
“It all began when my partner and I were on vacation. Er..Taking a rest from our battles with our country’s enemies.”
Artie listened as James began describing their New Orleans assignment. He felt a flash of pain that James would relate that particular story. However in keeping with the secret nature of their profession they were used to telling and embellishing their tales, as a wild story like that would never be believed. What had Richmond called it? Plausible deniability.
James was describing Dr Faustina’s lab and inserting a knock-down drag-out fight with her hulking mute assistant. As good as James was at fist fighting, he was having trouble describing it in a thrilling manner. Artie could see that he was losing his audience. Rising to his feet he placed a booted heel on his chair and started using hand actions to help the story along. The officers shouted their approval. Artie took up the story as Jim paused for breath; it was from where he had heard about his friend’s supposed death. His rich actor’s voice modulated to convey the news and make his audience feel the chill horror of that moment. The captains were enthralled, their ebullience hushed, as they listened. Artie began to enjoy himself. He didn’t notice Jim sit back with a smug smile. James had known Artie could no more resist showboating than fly.
When he mentioned Lily and her valiant help. Koloth sat forward. “Your woman?” he boomed.
“N-not exactly” Artie faltered.
“Her own woman then. Let us toast Lily the warrior!” Koloth shouted.
“Lily!” they all chorused.
“Where is this battlemaid now, did she live or did she die with honour?”
“Oh no,” Artie huffed a laugh, surprising himself. “She is very much alive and …living her own life… on her own terms.”
Koloth’s eyes were understanding, “Freedom.”
Artemus met his eyes and nodded once. “Life is too short for regret. Any regret.”
Koloth gave an answering nod. “To Freedom!”
“Freedom!” Other patrons of the bar were joining in.
Artie then resumed his tale and if said tale got more expansive and dwelt a little more on wild fist fights against impossible odds, (with Artie involving half the bar as stand-ins) exploding hideouts and valiant warriors of both sexes careening through the night saving their country, than what actually happened; James didn’t mind a bit. He delighted in the sight of Artie’s gleeful smile and felt a ton weight lift from his heart.
******************
A week later, two lovely ladies were ushered into the opulence of the Wanderer’s finest carriage. Both exclaimed loudly at the sight. James whisked his date off on a ‘tour’ of the other carriages, leaving Artemus with his, who delighted him by revealing just how ticklish she was, when he slipped an arm around her.
“I swear,” drawled Savannah “My late husband. God rest him, always said I squealed louder than any two folk together.“
Artie’s smile was positively lupine. He fully intended to find out how much louder, later that night.
Crossover with Startrek book series The Captain's Table.
The Night of the Captain’s Table
When James West had a problem his usual method of resolution was to charm it or flatten it, sometimes both.
However in this case the problem was with his fellow agent Artemus Gordon.
The situation involved a lady. Specifically the abrupt departure of said lady from their lives, after Artemus had fallen in love and gone so far as to ask for her hand in marriage.
Lily Fortune had not meant to be unkind but the life she wanted to live did not include a handsome but likely to be absentee husband. To an outside observer Artemus was his old sarcastic self but to his best friend there was faraway look in those dark-chocolate eyes and a sad droop to his partner’s expressive mouth, when he thought he was unobserved, that James didn’t like to see.
James had tried to help. A saloon crawl had convinced him that the only thing worse than Artemus Gordon nursing a broken heart was Artemus Gordon nursing a broken heart and a massive hangover.
Any other distraction had likewise fallen on deaf ears. Artie had flatly refused to attend the society soirees where they could be expected to pick up easy conquests and an innocent comment Jim had made, concerning a certain madam who ran a house of extreme exclusivity, had Artie slamming out of the carriage muttering “never and not about to start” and burying himself in his lab for hours.
Thus it was that James found himself accepting an invitation, alone, to a private poker game with the President and a few fellow officers. Later that night the President courteously asked about the other half of his favourite team and it may have been the very fine brandy but James found him a sympathetic listener.
“Try not to worry James; Gordon is a sensible and worldly man. After all you two have been through I don’t doubt his resilience or fortitude.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jim accepted the drink Grant had poured “Artie does his duty perfectly but Lily knocked his confidence. He’s never asked another woman to marry him as far as I’m aware. He was so nervous; I had to propose for him, he couldn’t get the words out.”
“But you boys charm the very birds from the trees!”
“Those pretty birds are one thing. Lily, well, he respected her. She was an old friend, a smart woman from his thespian background He felt she was eminently suitable. Artie couldn’t help but offer her his hand. “
“Give him time, son. Time heals a broken heart.”
“Sir, I want my partner back now, with all the verve he used to have. I don’t know how to fix this.” James clenched his fist in frustration. “I can’t even blame Lily. She had just discovered that she was free of her mother and could live her life as she wanted. Unfortunately that didn’t include Artie.” Jim sighed “I know that in the scheme of things this may seem trivial.”
“James, if the Past Unpleasantness taught us anything, it taught us that men have feelings that can run as deep as any ocean.”
Grant paused, a blazing smile had transformed Jim’s face and those remarkable eyes were fairly shooting sparks.
“That’s it” James was jubilant, “that’s it. Artie was a Captain,”
“Yes …”
“Sir, I don’t know if you are aware of it but there is a certain bar, where all Captains are welcome and…”
Grant held up a hand “I know it. Take your brother there, it may be the answer.”
“I know it will sir, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me son, that place has a habit of reminding us of its existence when needed.”
But he was talking to the door, James having uncharacteristically bolted.
***************
“ARTIE! You awake?” James burst through the doors of the Wanderer like a compact tornado, severely startling his partner who bolted upright from where he had been reading.
“I am now, James! What the …?”
“Get dressed! We’re going out.”
“Now?!”
“Yes.”
Artie started shaking his head “James, my boy, I don’t…”
James grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Artie to look into his eyes “Please Artie, I know you trust me. Please, come with me.”
Artie was shocked at James’ pleading “Well, of course…”
“Great.” James propelled Artemus down the corridor into his own room before crashing about in his to emerge a minute later to tow his partner out the door and into a waiting carriage. He gave the driver the address of an obscure lane in a dingy part of the city.
“Where are you taking me, James?” muttered Artemus as he watched the streets get darker and lonelier but James just smiled.
***************
Cap eyed the newcomers as they came through the door, which, for just a second he could have sworn resembled a swing door on a saloon. In 19th century Western dress, they were obviously well-to-do.
Ah, yes, Cap remembered the shorter of the two now; challenging green eyes and the scapegrace smile of a fallen angel. Captain James West, senior agent for President Grant. Almost reflexively Cap slammed a hand down on the bar, startling and halting the advance of a handsome young man in a World War 2 airforce greatcoat, who had started to surge toward the westerners, “Just sit tight and have another, Captain H, I think our western friends have other folk to meet tonight.”
Artemus looked around in wonder, this was no ordinary saloon. Sumptuous and tasteful fixtures suited the cheerful music playing, though he couldn’t see where it was coming from and the bar seemed to go on until it made his eyes hurt. James seated himself and waved for the waiter.
A tall, staggering figure dressed in pirate garb threw himself over the bar with a glad cry of “Yes, there’s RUM!”
A handsome young man in a long blue coat climbed to the stage and started singing a ditty about a butler and an upstairs maid. Artie dragged his attention back to the table.
“Where have you brought me, James?”
“It’s called the Captain’s Table. Only captains can enter.”
A group of four swarthy men approached them and threw themselves unto the spare seats at the table. James didn’t object, so neither did Artie. He schooled his face to neutrality; he had seen burn scars similar to these before. Horrific injuries could be caused by the hazardous conditions that existed in steamboat engine rooms. During the war they had been responsible for many deaths and disfigurements. These were among the worst he had seen. High on the skull, the skin and bone had warped to resemble nothing so much as a turtle’s shell. Despite their appearance the men were boisterous, cheerfully greeting Artie and James as if old friends and calling for more ale.
“Just go with it, Artie” explained James “The beer is free, the only price is a story.”
Artie looked non-plussed but followed his lead. “Are they one crew, James?”
“No, they are all captains, like us.”
“Must be a fellowship of survivors.” Artie had heard of such, but never met one.
James shrugged “Something like.”
Cap served the ale, deftly avoiding the swinging arm of Krarrf as he gestured in the middle of a no doubt filthy joke. His nearest companions Kannd and Kourf fell about laughing, while Koloth just bared his teeth and banged his stine on the table in appreciation. “Now it is your turn, Earther.”
Artie blinked at the term, he assumed it meant a dry-land captain, one not of the navy service.
“My turn for a story? Well, I’m not sure…”
“I’ll start it” said James, surprising Artie.
Koloth toasted him “Make it a good one. We are in the mood for blood and honour tonight.’
Artemus got the feeling they weren’t talking metaphorically.
“It all began when my partner and I were on vacation. Er..Taking a rest from our battles with our country’s enemies.”
Artie listened as James began describing their New Orleans assignment. He felt a flash of pain that James would relate that particular story. However in keeping with the secret nature of their profession they were used to telling and embellishing their tales, as a wild story like that would never be believed. What had Richmond called it? Plausible deniability.
James was describing Dr Faustina’s lab and inserting a knock-down drag-out fight with her hulking mute assistant. As good as James was at fist fighting, he was having trouble describing it in a thrilling manner. Artie could see that he was losing his audience. Rising to his feet he placed a booted heel on his chair and started using hand actions to help the story along. The officers shouted their approval. Artie took up the story as Jim paused for breath; it was from where he had heard about his friend’s supposed death. His rich actor’s voice modulated to convey the news and make his audience feel the chill horror of that moment. The captains were enthralled, their ebullience hushed, as they listened. Artie began to enjoy himself. He didn’t notice Jim sit back with a smug smile. James had known Artie could no more resist showboating than fly.
When he mentioned Lily and her valiant help. Koloth sat forward. “Your woman?” he boomed.
“N-not exactly” Artie faltered.
“Her own woman then. Let us toast Lily the warrior!” Koloth shouted.
“Lily!” they all chorused.
“Where is this battlemaid now, did she live or did she die with honour?”
“Oh no,” Artie huffed a laugh, surprising himself. “She is very much alive and …living her own life… on her own terms.”
Koloth’s eyes were understanding, “Freedom.”
Artemus met his eyes and nodded once. “Life is too short for regret. Any regret.”
Koloth gave an answering nod. “To Freedom!”
“Freedom!” Other patrons of the bar were joining in.
Artie then resumed his tale and if said tale got more expansive and dwelt a little more on wild fist fights against impossible odds, (with Artie involving half the bar as stand-ins) exploding hideouts and valiant warriors of both sexes careening through the night saving their country, than what actually happened; James didn’t mind a bit. He delighted in the sight of Artie’s gleeful smile and felt a ton weight lift from his heart.
******************
A week later, two lovely ladies were ushered into the opulence of the Wanderer’s finest carriage. Both exclaimed loudly at the sight. James whisked his date off on a ‘tour’ of the other carriages, leaving Artemus with his, who delighted him by revealing just how ticklish she was, when he slipped an arm around her.
“I swear,” drawled Savannah “My late husband. God rest him, always said I squealed louder than any two folk together.“
Artie’s smile was positively lupine. He fully intended to find out how much louder, later that night.