Try Honesty

[goingtobeunwell]

A little bit of the status quo is helpful in many ways after a bit of a rocky patch, but unfortunately routine never did any good for a man like Francis Crozier. It’s a curse of always being too wrapped up in one’s own head; never able to find escape, even through diligent, strict regimes of the naval variety. It’s why his impulses always leaned towards numbing instead of distraction - work never really worked. Time is equally as ineffective, that strategy of waiting until the worst of the hurt passes, but when the hurt seeps into the bones and becomes a part of the marrow time does absolutely nothing.

But the normal ways of coping, like facing a problem head on, is too daunting a task. Crozier knows he isn’t capable of verbalizing the things that are haunting him, like perhaps the stinking maw and razor-sharp teeth of an ancient bear, and so what choice does he have but to continue on? And he’s fine, really. He survived! In fact, it didn’t really happen at all, so what point was there in letting it continue to bother him?

Thankfully he’s found a different way of caring on, and that’s surrounding himself by the feelings of satisfaction and love he feels when he’s able to tend for someone he cares about. Ram’s wounds still need care, and so long as he’s able to tend to him then everything else seems just fine. He dresses the burns and applies the ointment and wraps the angrier burns to keep the tender skin from becoming irritated, and he touches Rama’s arm and kisses his head and sits shoulder-to-shoulder under blankets, and all is well.

They sleep as they always do together, Crozier mindful of Ram’s sensitive skin, and he doesn’t dream that night, at least not that he can remember.

Comments

[load_aim_shoot]

It's a day or two after -- a day or two of the same unreal normality, performing the everyday habits that had before come to feel natural as if another man is performing them, the man who can reassure Francis in the way Francis needs to be reassured. Raju cleans, Raju helps cook. He hasn't had to leave to gather more wood yet. He hasn't slept in the same bed with Francis yet, either, not an entire night through. But tonight, instead of sleeping in front of the fire waiting for a nightmare to wake him before moving to sleep near Francis, he risks going to bed with him. When he crawls in after Francis has fallen asleep he doesn't want to risk waking him by either holding him or being held, and he misses it.

He sleeps, and he does dream. Not a nightmare; a strange one, a kind of strangeness he'll recognise once he wakes up, but for now the feeling doesn't mean anything. There's a campfire, inside of a cave. There's a woman, who hardly matters now. There are stones carved with symbols that he doesn't know, and his own curiosity. He reaches out toward one--

The dream ends, not nearly so abruptly as the past couple nights of half-rest have led him to expect, and he's still relaxed enough to go back to sleep. He sighs, eyes still closed, arms moving down thoughtlessly to the soft warmth under Francis' ribs and tightening there.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier rouses slightly as Ram slips back into bed with him. He knew the self-imposed exile was temporary, but it doesn’t mean he had to like it. He smiles to himself, happy and all-too-relieved at the return, and drifts back asleep with the comfort of the warm body beside him.

And then he dreams. He walks through a warmly-lit cave and comes across the woman everyone in town speaks about, the one who comes to them as they sleep and gives them those superhuman abilities, the one who weeps and wails during the Aurora. She doesn’t pull her hands away from her face, but then again Crozier doesn’t ask, the dream deciding for him that he’d rather pick up an interesting talisman than attempt comfort someone else. He wakes suddenly, as most of these dreams end, and stares up in the ceiling with something pooling in his mouth.

Odd. He smells blood, tastes it on his tongue in fact, but there shouldn’t be any reason for it. He swallows quickly but it rises again, dripping from the corner of his mouth and down his neck.

[load_aim_shoot]

His arms tighten around Francis and feel something odd there. Warm and wet. Frowning, he opens his eyes, counting on the sunlight through the crack in the curtains to show him—

All at once Raju’s own insides tighten up, everything in him hard and awake. Or is this another nightmare? The horror is too powerful for it to matter. He feels hot as if with sudden fever scorching through his skin. Shock and fear has made him draw back and he rolls to his knees, pulling at Francis’ shoulder to try to make him roll onto his back where the dim, pitiful light will show him. Francis’ shirt smokes a little where Raju touches it. “Francis.”

[goingtobeunwell]

To his horror Crozier feels Ram’s hand sink in before he suddenly jerks away. Panic rises as he begins blindly patting himself down, looking for whatever it was that Ram touched, the blood leaking down his chin and choking him. His fingers graze the wound and then, impossibly, his own viscera, seemingly falling out through giant tears in his own flesh. Ram turns him and he flings his arm across his stomach in a pointless attempt at keeping himself together, staring up at him through the dark, helpless to do anything but hold himself.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju hesitates, staring down at the helpless look on Francis’ face, the way Francis is looking at him, as if asking him to do something. Then he reaches down quickly, pressing his hands against Francis’ insides to hold him together, only to feel—

—to feel a whole, solid surface under his hands. He frowns, moving his hands a little to one side to check, and feels exactly the same thing. He looks to Francis’ face again, his own expression confused this time. For the moment, he’s beyond words; he moves one hand to Francis’ face and, frowning, tries to wipe a finger under the trail of blood moving down from Francis’ mouth while the bedsheets smoke.

[goingtobeunwell]

There isn’t any blood. How can that be, when he feels it pooling in his mouth even now? He smells smoke on top of the blood and watches as Ram’s hand pulls away completely clean.

That can’t be possible. He knows what he feels, what he sees -

He reaches down to touch the open wound again and realizes that there really is nothing there. He’s whole. Unharmed. The blood and all else is just an elaborate illusion, a shared hallucination, some kind of the usual nonsense that they’re pulled into on an almost weekly basis.

“Ram,” he ventures, the blood on his tongue not impeding his speech. It’s not real. “I had a dream…”

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju takes a moment to take this in. His heart is still beating hard, horror and fear pounding their fists against the inside of his chest.

"If this is permanent, I'm going to kill her," he says honestly, focusing less on the words and more on pulling Francis' shirt a little further away from his middle, trying to smooth his hands over the skin there again. "I had a dream too. She was crying. Did you change into anything at the end? I think that's how these usually go."

[goingtobeunwell]

Did he change into anything at the end? Not that he can remember, but it seems like he would or should if it occurred. Ram had remembered his dream so vividly, as did the others.

“No, but I…” He licks his lips to rid himself of the blood that’s not actually there. “I picked up something. A talisman.”

Crozier’s own terror morphs into something more akin to outrage: his brow furrows deeply and he starts to try to sit up, more blood spreading across his shirt from the top of his tunic. Did she do this to him? Why? What point could it possibly serve! Why bring up this injury in particular, when any number of -

He balks when he realizes he hadn’t checked the state of his other injuries. He glances down at his shirt, now almost completely saturated, and slowly brings his left hand up to inspect.

He hadn’t seen the wound initially. It’d been wrapped tightly when he was roused from his fever, already starting to heal thanks to Silna’s care and attention, and days after the stitches from seal sinew, though angry and red, were healing. But the sight in front of his face now is the moments right after the chop - surprisingly clear, that’d be the ulu’s doing, showing the layers of bone and muscle and skin like the rings of a tree trunk.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he whispers shakily.

[load_aim_shoot]

When Francis sits up and the blood that isn't there starts to spill, Raju finds himself reaching out to it. To contain it, or-- something. He stops his hand before it gets there, eyebrows furrowing, biting at the inside of his lip. Then Francis lifts up the stump that's always been well healed for as long as Raju's known him and... well, it's fresh. It's the shaky sound of Francis' voice that disturbs Raju, though, more than the sight itself.

"We'll pin your sleeve," he murmurs, reaching out to the arm to, after a minute hesitation where he reminds himself how Francis' smooth, healthy middle had felt, try to run his fingers over it, wanting to cover it with his own hand so Francis doesn't have to see. "Something must have gone wrong. I picked up a talisman too, and I don't look that way."

[goingtobeunwell]

Rama has had his own fair share of injuries - maybe not of the limb-amputation variety, but undoubtedly still gruesome - so it couldn’t possibly be affecting him in the same way. He glances from his face back to the hand, quickly lowering it so he doesn’t have to see the bone and sinew anymore.

His wounds from the tuunbaq have probably opened up as well. Two bear attacks, maybe that’s the common thread here. But no - he suddenly recalls another detail from the dream.

“There was more than one talisman. I…don’t remember which I chose, but maybe the talismans did different things.”

Then what the hell did Ram end up with?

[load_aim_shoot]

Francis lowers his arm and Raju's hands follow it, tugging Francis' sleeve a little further off his shoulder to tie the dangling end into a quick knot. He grunts, just to let Francis know he's listening. "Maybe. It doesn't matter."

More important than whatever the awful, useless dream was supposed to do, or might have done to Raju, is Francis, here right now in front of him. Raju puts a hand to the side of Francis' face, smiling gently. It's always easier to feel steady when someone else is; maybe smiling will help. "I'll get you another shirt, cover this up. Then we'll decide what to do next. Maybe we can get one of those people who send their thoughts out at people to yell at Enola for us."

[goingtobeunwell]

Smiling through the worst of it is supposed to be his job, and seeing Ram try to fill that role makes him feel uneasy. He must look horrendous, like some kind of waking nightmare with his guts out and his flesh all torn up. And in their bed too, their little sanctuary they’ve worked so hard to keep safe and secure.

“Jesus Christ,” he finds himself muttering, trying to push himself up with a wince as everything sort of shifts. “If this last longer than a day or two…”

He can barely look at himself, what must Ram think of all this? Reduced to nothing more than a disgusting corpse shuffling around their home trying to keep his insides actually in. Ram’s sure to be sick just from looking at him. He’ll have to sleep on the floor out by the fireplace again; he couldn’t possibly stay in their bed.

[load_aim_shoot]

Reassuring him doesn't seem to have worked; Raju watches Francis closely as Francis tries to push himself up, putting a hand on his back to try and help. It's his face Raju is focused on-- nothing makes it clearer than the expressions moving over it that Francis is alive, not hurting, not dying, perfectly alright, if disturbed. And disturbed is something more bearable. Disturbed might just be something Raju can fix. And if Raju doesn't look down at Francis' stomach but puts his hand over it, it feels like Francis is alright, too.

"It won't," he says, confidently. "Do you feel alright? Any pain?"

[goingtobeunwell]

He initially thought he felt pain, but he realizes now he might have been reacting to the smell and taste of blood in his mouth. “No,” he says, hand finding Ram’s arm to hold himself steady. “No, no pain. Discomfort, but that’s to be expected, I think.”

He exhales slowly. “Do you feel anything? Touching me there?”

[load_aim_shoot]

He shakes his head, knowing what Francis is asking, answering it: "Skin. That's all," and then answering the rest, thinking nothing of it. It feels natural coming out. This is the answer to Francis' question, too: "But I think if I stop I'll forget you aren't dying again. I can't stand the thought of looking at it."

As he speaks, he doesn't think anything of it. The moment after he does, Raju's brow furrows a little. Had that been a good idea? To Francis in this state? "But you're alright," he insists, leaning in closer to Francis in the hopes being closer will reassure, or at least distract, Francis where Raju's fuller answer might not. "That's all that matters. Let's get you up, cover some of this with something."

[goingtobeunwell]

The response does seem a little less…curated than is typical of Ram. But this is a stressful moment, nightmarish and cruel beyond words, and so a slip of the tongue or the odd blunt statement isn’t so out of the ordinary. In any case it doesn’t bother Crozier, though he does stare back at him with a furrowed brow and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“But I’m not,” he agrees firmly, “it’s all just an illusion.”

A macabre illusion, or a very specific punishment for them both. He can’t even begin to imagine why the woman in the dream would think this is a good thing.

He grabs hold of Ram’s hand. Not dying, see? Feel how warm his skin feels? Not even close to death.

At least they can scramble for a solution together; being proactive during a time of crisis always works for their benefit. “There’s a long shirt in the dresser, that’ll cover this.”

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju gives a single determined nod, looking into Francis' eyes -- beautiful as they ever are and clear, focused, not in pain. Then he raises the hand Francis has grabbed and kisses Francis' knuckles, taking a slow breath, letting it out and feeling some tension begin to unwind from him at the sensation of warm, familiar skin against his lips. The inside of his chest is tight and the back of his throat still tastes sour, and his heart hasn't quite slowed yet, but Francis is here, and they have at least a first step of something vaguely resembling a plan. Cover Francis up. Raju stands.

"I wonder if you'll keep letting me touch your stomach later," he says, head ducked to look inside the dresser that he's digging through. "Once you're not so surprised by all this. You wouldn't after... everything, the other day. Ah, here--" He turns, holding the long shirt up to take a look at it. "This should do, you were right," he agrees, and walks over to Francis again, holding it out.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier begins the slow journey that ends with both feet on the floor, pausing for a split-second when very recent habits are brought up. Ram had been bothered by that, had he?

“I didn’t realize it caused you grief,” he replies quietly, reaching for the tunic. “You’d been staring.”

It was jarring, knowing Ram was so focused on his stomach even though it was healed. Worse now, of course, because that’s how these things tend to go. A mild discomfort or annoyance can quickly turn into a torment worthy of Dante Alighieri.

[load_aim_shoot]

"Of course it did," Raju says, staring again. Francis' insides glisten wetly in the low light. Raju frowns, rubs one hand slowly over the back of the other, reminds himself that even with all the moving around Francis is doing somehow those insides never fall out. Maybe they won't. Maybe that would break the illusion too much. As if this awful thing is painted onto him, shifting but flat.

Or maybe they will. Maybe they only haven't yet. Raju darts from stillness into sudden motion, hurrying to help Francis pull the long shirt on, speaking as he does it. It feels better to be doing something, even though he knows very well that even with only the one hand to work with, the vast majority of the time Francis can dress himself without help. "I wanted it to feel real, that you weren't... dying any more. But you didn't want me to. You've never done that before. Not wanted me to touch you."

[goingtobeunwell]

The honesty continues, and Crozier finds himself responding to it with a surprised frown. It’s so…eloquently said, none of Ram’s usual pauses or stutters as he tries to find the right words. Just confident, self-assured, and deeply personal.

“The way you were looking at me made me feel frail still,” he admits. “As though I was still dying.”

How ironic that the injury’s returned. Maybe that was the entire point, some kind of moral lesson to face these things head on instead of clamming up outright. He adjusts the shirt to cover the gore and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, as though he’d been afraid that by exhaling he’d expel his own guts.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju breathes out slowly, frowning. He bites his lip. He's still staring at Francis' middle, he realises, at the way the shirt falls over it and at what he knows is underneath. He turns his frown to Francis' face instead. "That's the last thing you needed. I should have been helping you."

Francis' shirt is on; there's nothing more to help him with. Raju raises a hand, hesitating, then decides to put it on the back of Francis' neck, and to step closer. "I'm sorry. It was always easier to pretend with Sita than with you. I should have tried harder."

[goingtobeunwell]

“You don’t need to pretend with me,” he argues gently, leaning forward ever-so-slightly as Ram’s hand touches his neck. “It’s not your fault I felt as I did. There was nothing malicious behind it.”

He licks his lips out of habit. “You had to be strong for her sake, but I’m not her.”

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju shakes his head. "You'd just died. I did need to. You needed someone to comfort you. But all I was thinking about was that you didn't want me to touch you." His expression twists, unhappy with himself, and his other hand lifts itself up to Francis' head to twirl a bit of hair between his fingers. "I always want to touch you," he goes on, regardless of whether this new point might disagree with his previous one as he says: "So what if this time it was to remember you were alright? Does it matter why?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier frowns to himself. They’re going to go around in circles if he doesn’t try to somehow soothe Ram’s worry and guilt.

“Looks like we were given another chance to get it right,” he says dryly. He tilts his head to try to catch Ram’s gaze. “Now we understand each other, mn?”

[load_aim_shoot]

"You needed to feel stronger, not fragile." Raju lets go of Francis' hair and runs his hand over Francis' head, meeting his eyes. His hand settles on Francis' shoulder. "I understand; any man would. I should have pretended it was alright so you could, to help you. But I'd think you'd be used to it by now, feeling fragile."

Raju frowns. His mouth opens slowly, just a little, then it stops. Whether that was the right thing to say depends entirely on how Francis takes it, and apologising would only make sure that Francis knew Raju just said the wrong thing. He closes his mouth again, hand on Francis' shoulder twitching as Raju resists the urge to hold onto him more tightly. He must still be shaken from waking up that way, but that doesn't mean he had to say it.