An Officer's Room in Belem

Stephen closed his eyes. "If you require anything, I am sure..." He waved his hand to indicate the orderlies who would regularly check the officers' rooms. "I will be back by this evening; I will leave my haversack here, if you do not mind..." He did not wait for an answer, but carefully closed the door behind him.

Padstowe waited a few heartbeats until after the door was closed.

"Damn," he said softly.

It was quite dark by the time Stephen hesitantly poked his head around the door again. "Captain Padstowe?" he said in a whisper, in case the man was asleep.

Padstowe had been dozing - unable to sleep properly due to the discomfort in his shoulder, and had been contenting himself with watching the pale shadow cast on the ceiling by the moon. When the door opened he thought it to be one of the orderlies, but was somewhat surprised to hear Stephen's voice.

"Doctor Maturin?" he whispered uncertainly.

"Yes," said Stephen, opening the door a little more so that his face was lit. "Do- Do you mind if I come in?"

"No, no not at all."

Though it was not as if Padstowe could have stopped him coming in if he wanted to.

Stephen gently shut the door, and silently went to the chair, standing for a moment before taking a breath and sitting down. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Fine," he said, more out of habit than truthfulness.

"Please be honest, Captain - I do not ask entirely out of courtesy," said Stephen, not unkindly.

Padstowe hesitated a while before answering, remembering all too clearly the disagreement of this morning.

"I cannot sleep," he said eventually. "My shoulder an ribs make it impossible, and I cannot find a position that gives ease."

"I will not give you too much, on account of your head injuries, but a small dose of laudanum will both ease the pain and aid you in sleeping," Stephen said, picking up his leather bag and rifling through it.

"Thank you, doctor, but I would rather not," Padstowe said. He hoped the doctor would recall his abhorrance of sleeping drugs from before. "Please. I shall probably find it easier to sleep later, when I am more weary."

"I apologise if my tone of voice suggested that this was an offer or a suggestion, Captain," Stephen said, a hint of steel in his voice. He softened. "It will not render you unconscious, by any means. It will merely dull the pain in your shoulder. You need to sleep, or you will be staying here far longer than either of us would like."

"Even so," the captain persisted despite Stephen's warning. "I would much prefer not to..."

"Very well," said Stephen coldly, placing the bottle on the table to the side, within Padstowe's reach. "I will not force you."

Padstowe very nearly audibly sighed in relief.

"Thank you, sir."

"I will leave you to sleep, then. If you are still awake by midnight, however, you will have fifteen drachms, whatever your considered medical opinion on the matter," spat Stephen, as he moved towards the door, having hoisted his haversack onto his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," he replied, though Padstowe knew full well he would not take it. It seemed, as he had suspected that he had lost Maturin's good opinion, and that it would be impossible to claim it back.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly, as Stephen turned to go, not lifting his eyes from the blanket.

Sir. Stephen clenched his teeth. He was tempted to walk away in silence, but he sincerely doubted it would hurt Padstowe as it had hurt him. "For what, Captain?"

Padstowe lifted his gaze to the doctor.

"For what I said, or rather what I did not say this morning... and that I have lost your good opinion. I regret it extremely, and even more so as I do not believe I will ever be able to reclaim it."

Stephen closed his eyes and sighed. "You did not lose it, Captain. You led me to believe you did not care if you had it." But now he was saying that he did, and Stephen opened his eyes, looking at the floor. "But I accept your apology, Jonathan," he continued, with only the minutest pause before the man's name, as his eyes snapped up to meet Padstowe's.

The reply sparked a small smile from Padstowe, though he was still not sure whether he truly had the doctor's good opinion back.

"Please, Stephen, forgive me."

Stephen opened his mouth, but he stopped, and nodded wordlessly, and as he did, the strap of his haversack fell from his shoulder into the crook of his elbow. He let go of the door handle, and it drifted shut.

Then he smiled shyly. "I brought you a gift, from the city," he said softly, drawing the apple from the pocket of his coat. His smile widened a little as he held it out.

Padstowe looked at the apple with something akin dread. Was the doctor having his revenge?

"Thank you," he said faintly.

Stephen's smile widened. "Were I a wicked, cruel man, I would make you choose between the two," he said, taking a bite from the apple. "As it is, I am a weak, soft, foolish doctor who will not make you take a physic now, but wait until midnight instead."