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randomweavingThey arrived in St. Louis at around noon the second day.
Johnny had slept better than he'd thought he would, clambering up into the bunk with a pleasantly full belly from the dinner Catherwood had ordered and drifting off almost immediately, visions of black letters on white paper imprinted upon his closed eyelids. He awoke before the doctor, and had lain in his bunk, wishing he knew if it was all right for him to continue using the journal he'd used yesterday for practice. He'd waited until the porter came by to punch their tickets, waking Catherwood in the process, before he'd asked, rather hesitantly, if he could do so.
"That journal is yours now," Catherwood told him. "Do what you want with it."
His voice had been grumpy, but the words had filled Johnny with an astonished joy--it was, by far, the nicest present he'd ever received, and it was all he could do to stop himself from wrapping his arms around the doctor in his gratitude. He fortunately refrained, knowing the impulse to be unwise, and instead settled for a rather vehement series of "thank yous" until the doctor had forbade him to thank him one more time. His eyes had been amused, however, and rather pleased, so Johnny hadn't taken the scolding amiss; he settled instead in his seat by the window and began practicing his letters once more.
They had not yet eaten lunch when the train pulled into St. Louis, and Johnny was beginning to feel the familiar gnawing ache in his stomach as he followed Catherwood off the train and onto the noisy, crowded platform at St. Louis's main station. Once they left the station, however, he was soon too overcome with awe at the sights around him to notice his hunger; several times he very nearly bumped into someone, so busy was he looking up.
The buildings seemed to go on forever, stretching six and seven stories high--sometimes even higher--and for Johnny, who had, before Columbus, never seen a building more than two, it seemed impossible.
Suddenly he felt a hand grasp his arm, jerking him abruptly to one side, and he jumped when he heard the clatter of hooves passing very close by. He jerked sideways, realizing he'd very nearly been mowed down by a stage coach--in his distraction, he'd stepped out into the road without realizing it. He flushed, turning to thank his rescuer, and realized with embarrassment it was Catherwood.
"You'll have to do better than that," the doctor informed him, stepping away and brushing at his waistcoat in a gesture Johnny realized was borne of residual anxiety. "You're going to get yourself killed before we see hide or hair of a Rebel soldier, if you keep that up."
Johnny flushed, taking a tighter hold on the bags. "I...yes, sir." He dropped his gaze, focusing instead on watching Catherwood's back as they walked, trying to keep from looking around at all the wonders of the city around him. The doctor already knew he was a country boy, after all, this couldn't have made it much worse...And how many times had he been told to pay attention to what he was doing, and not go off into a dream? More than he could count.
He'd expected they'd meet straight up with the infantry unit they were riding with--the 1st Iowa Infantry, which was going to meet up with the other companies already in place in Springfield--but to his surprise, Catherwood stopped instead into an up-scale looking restaurant on the corner of two busy downtown streets.
He hesitated at the doorway, a quick glimpse proving he was far under dressed for this sort of establishment; he was wondering if he should offer to wait outside when Catherwood cast a glance back at him and lifted his eyebrows. "Are you coming?"
"If you wish me to, sir, of course," Johnny replied hesitantly, then smiled shyly. "I am a little hungry."
The doctor nodded approvingly. "Good lad," he murmured, then turned back into the restaurant.
Johnny felt extremely self-conscious as a well-dressed gentlemen--the concierge, Catherwood told him--came forward and offered to take his coat. He was reluctant to turn it over; tattered though it was, it was his only protection against the still-cool nights. But at another nod from Catherwood, who was shrugging out of his own trench coat, he obeyed. The satchel he also turned over, though he noted Catherwood kept his cane.
The concierge looked him over, once he had turned their effects over to a servant lad with carefully downcast eyes. Then he glanced at Catherwood. "I will take you to your table presently, sir," he said, bowing. "Your boy will be taken to the waiting quarters, if it pleases you."
Johnny glanced at Catherwood, and stepped back, ready to follow the concierge, but he was stopped by a look from the doctor.
"It doesn't," Catherwood said coolly. "He will be fine with me, thank you."
The concierge looked startled, but managed a tight smile nevertheless. "As you wish, sir," he said, bowing, though he cast another dubious glance before leading them to a small booth next to a gigantic window that seemed to cover the entire wall, and had a wonderful view of the river.
Johnny looked around him, at the elegant diners, the rich setting, and wondered if he would even be able to concentrate enough to eat, or if he'd be too distracted by the sights and sounds of the great steamers rolling by, the people around him. It was like something out of a dream...But the smells wafting through the room had awoken the gnawing in his gut, and he knew it wouldn't be a problem after all, even if he couldn't quite believe he was truly here.
Catherwood picked up one of the large folded pieces of paper sitting on their table and glanced at it, frowning; Johnny realized it was the menu and followed suit, then paled a little when he realized that, rather than drawings of the food, this menu had words.
He bit his lip, worry not much helped by the small joy he felt when he recognized many of the letters, and remembered their names. "Sir, I..." he glanced up, quickly, then back down. "Could you choose for me, as well?" he asked finally, folding the menu closed again, his cheeks very red.
Catherwood looked startled. "Of course," he said. "Or I could simply read the options to you, if you'd rather..."
Johnny shook his head, somehow flushing darker. "No...no, that's all right. I'm sure I'll be happy with whatever you pick..." God above, it was bad enough to be in this well appointed room, with actual gentlemen, dressed as he was. He wasn't sure he could stand for any of them to overhear the doctor reading the menu aloud to him. His worry over whether he'd be able to eat returned, but was now due to the roiling of his stomach. I should've waited outside...
Catherwood shrugged. "Well, I'm going to order soup and fried catfish," he said. "I'll tell the waiter to make it two, unless you have any qualms with that."
Johnny nodded miserably, not raising his gaze from his plate. "That's fine, sir," he murmured.
Catherwood set his menu aside and leaned forward, speaking quietly. "You haven't anything to be embarrassed about, Johnny."
"I don't belong here, sir," Johnny replied, just as softly, still not looking up. It was the truth, and he hoped Catherwood wouldn't try to deny it. The compartment in the train had been one thing, but this...it was part of the world he'd dreamt of, but being in it now made him feel small and shabby. "I should have...have waited with the other servants."
"Don't be ridiculous," Catherwood scoffed, settling back into his chair and easing his leg beneath the table, straightening it carefully. "You are not a servant, you are an apprentice, and there's a difference. Besides," he added, casting a disparaging glance around the room, "you're about to go to war while these stuffed shirts sit sipping brandy. They should be serving you."
"Oh." Johnny chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, and nodded at last. He was going to war, and while medics were less likely to be wounded than the fighting men, there was still the sickness in the camps, and capture at the hands of the enemy to worry over. Perhaps one fine meal in a place he'd otherwise never have entered was deserved, at that. "Sir? Could you...could you perhaps tell me what else there is to eat? I've never cared much for catfish."
Catherwood laughed aloud, and listed his options. Johnny settled for roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and squash, and despite his worries, he found that in Catherwood's relaxed company he was able to eat after all.
* * *
JD shook off the half-remembered images from his dream, rubbing his eyes as he came fully awake. Ugh, nap hangover... He glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was only a little past noon. He rolled over, finding the journal still open beside him.
That brought a slight smile to his face. No wonder he'd been dreaming about trains, after reading Catherwood's account of his trip to Columbus, then his and Johnny's trip to St. Louis. The man seemed a match to Perry in temperament as well as first name, and JD'd giggled more than once, almost hearing the words on the page in his lover's voice.
But he found himself truly intrigued by the man's experiences, as well, and had read himself to sleep, the worn book still open to the page where Catherwood and Jonathan had met with the Iowa infantry headed for Springfield. He still wasn't sure why they were heading down there--he had Catherwood's reasons, of course, but historically he wasn't sure if much of significance had happened there. That'd be something to do, later--go online and see what he could find out about civil war battles in Missouri.
He pushed himself back off the bed, yawning, and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. The red message light was blinking at him, and he flipped it open, groaning when he realized he'd missed a call from Perry. He dialed his voicemail bringing the phone to his ear.
"Hey Newbie--I see it's phone tag for us today. You're it. Sorry I missed you earlier, I was oogling the ski bunnies. I'm in meetings most of the afternoon but I'll catch you sometime tonight. Love you."
"Love you, too," JD murmured, pushing down the one on his phone until it dialed Perry's number. It couldn't have been that long ago that the other man had called, maybe he could catch him...It'd only be one o'clock in Aspen, after all.
It rang twice before there was an answer. "H'llo?"
JD felt a smile spread over his face, and he wriggled a bit more into the mattress, scootching to Perry's side again. "Hey. It's me. How're the snow bunnies?"
There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. "The breasts are good, but not one of them has your ass," Perry replied. "How you doing, Newbie?"
"I'm so lost without you that Elliot dragged me out of bed at five o'clock in the morning to sort through other people's old stuff," JD answered, idly imagining what it would be like if they had a video phone, and he could wriggle his ass obligingly at Perry. "She made me go to the flea market."
There was a soft hiss. "Barbie's got you even more whipped than I do, doesn't she?" he said. "Find anything good?"
"She does," JD agreed, knowing there was no point in arguing. "But yeah. I got your birthday present. Can I please tell you what it is?"
Perry laughed. "Can I stop you?"
"Probably not," JD said cheerfully. "But I thought it'd be polite to ask."
"All right, then. You're polite. Now spill. What could you have possibly found at a flea market that you deemed worthy to give the love of your life for his birthday?"
"Well, I was tempted by the Cabbage Patch doll missing all its hair, but..." JD giggled, and turned over, picking up the journal he'd been reading. "I found something better. A bunch of Civil War era journals, written by a field surgeon named Percival. Percival Catherwood."
"Really!" Perry sounded impressed despite himself. "That's quite a find, JD! What'd that run you?"
"Twelve bucks, and there's a bunch of other books in the box I haven't looked at yet. Elliot argued the guy down from twenty." JD wriggled all over, his feet doing a happy dance against the mattress. Yes! Perry was hard to find the perfect present for, but it looked like he'd managed again.
"I'm guessing you've started reading them?"
"Yep," JD confirmed. "And get this: he's got an assistant named Johnny. And I gotta tell you, I almost pity the kid, because I swear this Percival sounds like he could've been your long lost twin...The journals start with them heading toward Springfield--the one in Missouri--I guess for some battle or other. I don't know a lot about the Civil War..."
"What year, do you know?"
"1861. Mid June." JD grinned softly. "And now you tell me you're an expert, right?"
"Any mention of a Nathanial Lyon?"
"Dude..." JD flipped through the journal quickly, and then grinned. "Yeah. That's their commanding officer. And if you already know this stuff...Damn, I'm better at present buying than I thought!"
Perry chuckled, and JD could almost see the self-satisfied smirk. "Perry Cox is more than just a ripped-up body," he teased. "I'm the whole package, baby. And I'd say they're heading into the battle of Wilson's Creek. The battle won't happen until sometime in August--I want to say right around the tenth, but I don't recall exactly. Pretty important battle in terms of turning Missouri sympathies toward the confederacy, actually. And listen, I've gotta run--my next conference is in about twenty minutes and I want to grab a shower first, but excellent job on the journals. I can't wait to get a look at them."
"Have to at least wait for me to sex you up first," JD said firmly. "I miss you. But go enjoy all your stuffy conferences, and tonight you can tell me how many perverted sexual positions you imagined me in instead of listening to the speakers."
"Forty two, Newbie. It's always the answer. Love you--take care, and I'll be back in another nine days."
"Love you, too," JD replied, smiling to himself. "I'll talk to you tonight."
"Tonight," Perry agreed. "Now go read about the past me. Maybe he'll end up sexing up the past you."
JD snorted. "Somehow I doubt it, but I'll let you know if he does. Bye for now." He hung up after Perry said his own goodbye, knowing one of them had to, or the older man would be late for his conference. He sighed, setting the phone down, thinking of the laundry he should do, the dishes, the mess of his backpack...
Instead of any of that, he grabbed the journal and started reading again, rejoining the trek to Springfield.
* * *
Like it? Hate it? Keep it? Scrap it? Let us know!
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 03:36 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 Nov 2007 03:47 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 Nov 2007 04:11 (UTC)Forty two, Newbie. It's always the answer.
True that.
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 04:57 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 Nov 2007 05:21 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 Nov 2007 05:30 (UTC)42! 42! 42! 42! 42! 42!
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 05:40 (UTC)Are all the WIP's you're posting on scrubsfic excerpts, or only what you've done of each thus far?
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 05:58 (UTC)Glad you're liking them so far! :)
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 06:17 (UTC)Eager to see tomorrow's WIP...
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Date: 30 Nov 2007 08:58 (UTC)Waiting not-so-patiently for more <3
Continue!!
Date: 30 Nov 2007 11:42 (UTC)I love these old time stories, they intruige me so much and just like all your other work they're so well written!!
I hope to read some more of this or I think I may go into a FanFic related breakdown!!
Amazing Job!!
Continue~!
Date: 30 Nov 2007 18:32 (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 Dec 2007 05:18 (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 Dec 2007 13:41 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Dec 2007 02:06 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Dec 2007 05:43 (UTC)no subject
Date: 15 Dec 2007 00:39 (UTC)Re: 42
Date: 21 Jan 2008 01:19 (UTC):D
*glee*
*scampers off to read your other comments because wow, you've left a lot!!!*
Re: 42
Date: 21 Jan 2008 01:20 (UTC)*facepalm*
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Date: 28 Feb 2008 01:44 (UTC)no subject
Date: 19 May 2008 07:13 (UTC)I wonder if Turk'll be a soldier that Johnny befriends or something. Somehow I think that'd be adorable. Also, I hope there is forbidden man-lurve, but even if it just stayed friendship-y or mentor-y, the historical aspect /old timey settings are all rife with romantic nostalgia and whatnot, so it won't be hard for me to imagine 'em gettin' it on in my head, like. -_-;