10 ⚓ Voice ⚓ But it all came to nothing, for we were lost through our own folly

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke's first hint that something was different comes in the form of Brownie scratching at the door and whining when he fixes coffee in the morning. Nathan's always up, and even in the brief times when he drops off he wouldn't sleep through his dog's crying. Duke lets her out and she bounds into the stateroom, standing at his side; the room she emerges from, Nathan's room, is empty.

He tries Nathan's communicator, gets nothing; waits an hour, tries again, gets nothing. After about six attempts he's nearly knocking down Nathan's official cabin's door. He's not in the art room, he's not in the mess hall - he just isn't anywhere, just gone. Like a Trouble took him.

One more try to reach Nathan and Duke gives up, sure of it this time.]

I think Nathan left. I know he didn't mean to.

Comments

[diealone]

What do you mean, you think?

[It's not meant to be accusatory, Jack's just... frustrated. Nathan's one of the few people on the ship Jack didn't actively dislike, or at least actively distrust.]

[hearrrtofgold]

I mean I can't find him anywhere. Unless someone killed him, he's gone.

[diealone]

Great.

[spoilers: he does not think this is great]

[hearrrtofgold]

Yeah. Real damn great.

[diealone]

[And there's a part of him that's tempted to leave it at that.

But then that frustrating urge to try and do something to fix this kicks in, and when has he ever been good at saying no to that?]

You need anything?

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke would be all right with suffering in manly silence alone, but suffering in manly science with someone else sounds better.]

You want to stop by the pub for a drink? [Read: Please do.]

[diealone]

Sure. [Even if it's less likely to be a drink and more likely to be soda. As shitty as he's felt in his ninety four days here, he's not close enough to rock bottom to want to head down that path.]

You're going to have to let me in, though.

[hearrrtofgold]

[Alcoholic or not, Duke will pour drinks and take the therapeutic role bartenders have taken since the beginning of time. It can help him as much as the person he's talking to.]

Just knock. I'll be in there.

[diealone]

I'll see you up there.

[And a couple of minutes later, there is indeed a knock at the door.]

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke's there like he says, polishing glasses and refilling everything just to keep himself busy, so it's a relief when Jack knocks and lets him in with a brief smile.]

Hey, Jack.

[strangehistorian]

I'm sorry.

[hearrrtofgold]

Thanks, Chromie.

[diealone]

Hey. [And... he kind of doesn't know what else to say. Again, stuff like this? Not what he's great at.

Which is kind of shitty when you're a doctor.]

How long've you been up here?

[hearrrtofgold]

[Duke can deal with that; he really just wants someone around.]

About thirty, forty-five minutes. Why?

[diealone]

Just wondering what kind of shape you'd be in.

[hearrrtofgold]

Normally, without Nathan around I'd be dancing with a lampshade on my head by now.

[diealone]

Then I guess you're holding up okay.

[hearrrtofgold]

I'm more worried about him. Last I knew, back home he wasn't in a great position.