Two-Hands Meme Except Not

[gildedlife]

The trip to Silverpoint couldn't have come at a better time.

It isn't really an expedition, not in the sense that James is used to, much smaller in scale and with no particular goal, but it's close enough. It's more like a little mission, an exploratory adventure, and ultimately that's something even more welcome than a true expedition would've been.

So he takes the risk, and travels, and explores the new community. He doesn't have any intention of staying permanently, but without any particular reason or incentive to return, he simply doesn't for quite some time. And then he begins to feel unwell.

It isn't entirely unusual for him to have bouts of exhaustion or shortness of breath; both have become more and more uncommon as he healed, and especially in the last few months, but still happen occasionally. At first, he thinks nothing of it, other than that he's overexerted himself exploring, except that it doesn't get any better with rest. In fact, with time, it only gets worse, and in many ways horrifyingly familiar.

Still, James hesitates to return to Lakeside and Milton, but mostly because the trip itself is difficult, and he has the sudden fear that if he is getting worse, he may not make it. The sense of deja vu is surreal, so deeply distressing that he can't acknowledge it, but it's that same sense that prompts him to take the risk all the same. There are a few people that he knows out here in Silverpoint, but many are back in the other two towns, and James distinctly remembers how much it had mattered in the end to be around people he cares for. If he is dying--if that same strange affliction that had affected him in the end, alongside the scurvy but different, has returned--then he wants to be closer to people he loves.

It's only for that reason that he's returned to Milton by the time his condition worsens, and he begins to get those strange flashes giving him a hint of what needs to be done. It's the latter that he focuses on, as he suddenly understands what's happening--it's this place again, wanting what it always wants--and that this might be the only chance he has if he doesn't want to die in this slow, painful way that he'd been so afraid of on King William's Land.

It's through sheer force of will that he makes it to the cabin that Francis and Raju share, vision spotted and head spinning, rapidly running out of strength and hoping the pair hadn't chosen the worst possible time to leave their home.

Comments

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju has been leaving the cabin, but not to go far; he's been stepping out, pacing anxiously, looking hard out at the snow and the trees, torn between going out to find Fitzjames himself and leaving Francis alone -- unacceptable -- and not going out and hoping whatever's going to happen won't kill Francis for good this time -- awful, like coals crawling under his skin. He's stepped out again now, keeping his balance mostly by practice and strength of will, just in time to see the very man he's thinking of. Raju weaves his unsteady way toward him, a great weight lifting off his chest, finally puts his hand to Fitzjames' back to usher him toward the door and says, "For god's sake, you couldn't be quicker? We weren't going to go out and find you like this. Your coat looks terrible."

It does. Raju doesn't think much about saying it. He looks over his shoulder and shouts instead, voice urgent: "Francis! He's here!"

[goingtobeunwell]

As intrigued as he is to hear about a new pathway out of the valley opening up, Crozier’s in no condition to do any sort of exploring he used to back in his early years. His activity level these last few days has been an intermittent plodding across the cabin - the slow and laborious trek of a man trying not to quite literally spill his guts as he tries to fetch a glass of water or stoke the fire. The tunic and dozens of bandages have helped; he now looks like he’s constantly just rolled out of bed, which at least helps keep Ram’s comments to a minimum.

He can’t help but be concerned about the others, especially Fitzjames, who he fears they’ve run off for good with all of that mess from ice storm, but he has the ability to keep those inner thoughts where they belong: locked up in his mind, never to be spoken out loud. But his relief is palpable when he hears Ram call out to him - followed quickly by more worry.

“Jesus, look at the state of you, James!” he exclaims, hand to his stomach to hold the non-existent injury as he rushes towards the pair.

Yes, yes, it’s hypocritical, but James doesn’t know that part yet so the worried rebuke still stands.

[gildedlife]

James is rarely ever in a mood to be criticized, and this is certainly no exception to the general rule; if he'd had the strength and breath at the moment to snap back at Raju's comments he would have, even though the relief he feels at the knowledge that both Raju and Francis are here is just even stronger than the annoyance.

But he lets Raju guide him toward the door of the cabin, and as soon as they make contact, something feels... Strange. Like part of a connection has been made, and it feels like confirmation that James' understanding of the situation was correct, and that should also reassure him but absolutely does not.

Francis' voice, though, does, at least until James notices something is wrong; he can't tell what, there's just something off about how Francis is moving, or perhaps it's his posture, with his hand on his abdomen. He likely would've figured it out much more clearly and much more quickly if he weren't struggling to remain upright and conscious, and without breaking contact with Raju, he reaches toward Francis' shoulder as soon as he's close enough.

This time, the effect is instantaneous, the other piece of the puzzle snapping together; the next breath James takes comes with actual oxygen, dizzying in itself but so incredibly welcome, and for a few moments he just focuses on getting enough air for his vision to clear and the awful panic to die down a little. Once it does, and he has room in mind for anything else, his surroundings and the people he's with and the situation that has brought him here--and kept him away--all begin to weigh in.

He should ask about Francis. He should explain what just happened, if they don't understand. He should--

"I didn't... Ask... For your opinion... On my coat."

...Not be petty. Too late. James delivers the remark with enough vitriol to make up for how pathetically he still has to gasp for air every few words, glaring at Raju as he does so.

He didn't ask Francis' opinion either, but he'll let that slide for the moment.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju looks over at him with disdain, one hand still pushing him toward the cabin door and trusting Francis to move with them. "If you didn't want people to comment, you should have repaired it better. You can't go out looking like that and expect people won't notice."

It's true. It's something he learned early in the English parts of his own cities, studying English styles and English speech and English tailoring. It's important, keeping control over the things that people see. A man who takes offence at a mention of his ill-sewn coat should already know that. The truth of it seems nearly as important as the way Raju's lungs fill now in nearly the way that they should, or at least important enough that he can pay attention to the air inside his lungs and Fitzjames' vitriol at the same time. Raju is panting too, out of breath, though not so much as Fitzjames; he's been close enough to Francis to touch him all this time, and Fitzjames has been some place far away from both while he's been avoiding them. Maybe that's why. But he doesn't think twice about keeping his hand on Fitzjames where it is.

[goingtobeunwell]

With James close enough to place a hand to his shoulder, Crozier can see the blue in his lips and the pale hue of his skin. He doesn’t have firsthand experience with this sort of hypoxia; a sailor’s far more likely to die of gangrene or sickness than a lack of oxygen, what with being almost constantly at sea-level, but he can spot the signs as well as anyone who’s seen a person choke or drown. Is the air thinner outside? He casts a worried glance towards the door, reminded of the poisonous gases before and the horrors it brought their way. No discoloration in the air though, that’s a good sign.

“Enough, you two,” he grouses. Surrounded by bloody peacocks. “Come now, James, you need to sit.”

He doesn’t remove himself from the proximity of either man, especially Fitzjames, who was at death’s door just a moment ago, but he does shuffle towards the chairs by the kitchen table. Shuffle and shamble, as wrapped up as he is to hide the tuunbaq and bear wounds, his left hand covered with a tight bandage instead of allowed to peak out from under his sleeve.

[gildedlife]

It's easier to focus on something as stupid and utterly unimportant as being offended about Raju's commentary than it is to acknowledge and deal with the stress--the memories and anxiety and fear--of the last few days and particularly the last few minutes, let alone all of the mess from a few months previous. He'd much rather snap back again, especially since Raju started it and James can therefore feel entirely justified in doing so, and only resists the urge because Francis distracts him.

"I'm well enough now." He manages the entire sentence after a few more gasps, still a little lightheaded, but for the most part rapidly improving. But he also doesn't know how long that will last, how quickly the affliction will return if he breaks contact, and that thought sparks another jolt of anxiety that prompts him to move along with Francis despite the half-protest. He does also notice that Raju, despite the little verbal spat, is still making contact as well, and wonders briefly if it's only for James' benefit or for them both.

But the way Francis is moving catches James' attention again, and this time he does zero in on it. "Can the same be said of you?"

[load_aim_shoot]

"Not at all. Don't let him tell you otherwise." It seems important, in the moment that it's coming out, that Raju should let Fitzjames know. But after it's out he grimaces a little, apology in his face as he looks toward Francis.

But it's better not to focus on that for too long, or he's sure he'll decide it's right to say more; instead he pushes Fitzjames in the direction of the chairs by the fire, which lights and flares hot seemingly on its own once Raju turns his attention toward it. "Let's go to the fire Francis, not the kitchen. He's been outside god knows how long.

"Too long," he adds, turning his attention to Fitzjames instead. "Either you went as far away as you could to avoid Francis, or you weren't sure you wouldn't rather die than be here until you almost were. Selfish of you; just because you didn't marry him when you had the chance doesn't mean he doesn't worry."

[goingtobeunwell]

Oh, goddammit Rama

“Ram!” he barks, looking aghast and like he would enjoy a brief respite in the cellar for five or seven hours. Yelling at Ram won’t do a damn thing to mitigate things or prevent more nonsense from arising in the future, but he has to at least look like he doesn’t condone this sort of behavior, doesn’t he?

Because he doesn’t. This sort of honesty makes his skin crawl, his teeth itch, his stomach flop about like a fish - it’s the kind of honesty he can’t deal with sober.

“Your choices are your own, James, I’m just pleased to see you again,” he adds hastily, and gives Ram A Look. He can’t help it, Crozier knows this, but there’s got to be a way to dam up the floodwaters before Fitzjames tries to throw a punch. He wants James here, after all, he had been worrying terribly.

“As you can tell we’re both in a bit of a state. Ram’s a bit more loose with his tongue, and I’m…” A walking corpse? No, that won’t do. “Coming apart at the seams. We’ve wrapped me up tightly to keep everything relatively in place.”

[gildedlife]

Now that he's able to breathe well again for the first time in days, exhaustion from the mental and physical stress of the ordeal--as well as the long trek back from Silverpoint--are settling in, and that turns out to be for the best; it means that Raju's comments take a moment to process, long enough that Francis is able to be the one to respond to them first.

And it's gratifying that the response is what it is, that Francis follows it up with assurances that he's glad James is there, even if it does little to truly calm James' insecurities. That there's something apparently going on--which makes sense, as Raju's never been so outright confrontational before--doesn't really help, because it sounds a whole lot like it's more a matter of not thinking before speaking rather saying something he doesn't believe, and so the words cut deeply enough that James is not about to just let them go.

But he does put them on hold, briefly, as he refocuses on the answer Raju had given to James' question, and Francis' own elaboration. Ignoring Raju entirely, as if he doesn't exist at all and James doesn't need to be making physical contact with him to keep breathing, he keeps his attention turned toward Francis.

"What do you mean?"

'Coming apart at the seams' is an incredibly alarming turn of phrase, no matter how calmly Francis has delivered it. It's something James is all too familiar with, and he can't stop himself from asking immediately after--

"It isn't...?" Scurvy seems simple enough to prevent here, and James has been successful in doing so himself, so it seems impossible Francis might be affected by it. But nothing is really impossible here.

[load_aim_shoot]

At first, Raju looks confused; when Francis contradicts him, though, reality sets in and he sighs, looking frustrated and sagging a little. While Fitzjames responds to Francis Raju turns away, letting go of Fitzjames in favour of picking at the little pile of split wood next to the fireplace and feeding it in. Maybe he's going to be... worked up about all this long enough to keep this fire going as long as they're going to need it, but he'd much rather be doing something which at least appears useful than saying the wrong thing, and focusing on something else is the only way he's been able to think of to moderate the talking. Fitzjames can keep touching Francis, can't he, while Raju's busy? And the three of them are here together now in case that suffocating feeling becomes dangerous. Raju would much rather not be thinking much about either of them than he would trying to keep his hands wherever they should be.

[goingtobeunwell]

“Not scurvy,” Crozier adds, not wanting to entertain that route for a moment longer. “Not in that sense. No, uh-”

As he searches for the right phrasing, whatever will pass for descriptive enough without requiring a visual demonstration, he walks them towards the roaring fire and one of the open seats to guide Fitzjames into.

“Similar, in that old wounds have opened up, but not caused by some underlying malady. There was a dream - surely others must have spoken to you about it.” Assuming Fitzjames had been spending any time around other people while he was busy avoiding him and Ram. He could be assuming a lot. “Enola and the three talismans, that dream.”

[gildedlife]

When Raju moves away James feels a sudden jolt of anxiety, afraid the affliction will instantly return, but it doesn't; his next breath is slightly shaky from nerves alone, nothing more. Perhaps there's a grace period, or perhaps it's been cured entirely; he can only hope.

But he doesn't dare yet letting go of Francis, moving with him toward the seats, though he doesn't take one yet. The assurance that it isn't scurvy is at least some amount of relief, and as Francis explains further, James gives a small nod. He's familiar, yes, having had one of the dreams as well, though the effect seems to have worn off for the moment. Hopefully that too will stay gone.

"Yes, I'm familiar, but the effects I've witnessed were less concerning than you describe." Glowing colors with one's emotions is quite different from the idea of falling apart.

[goingtobeunwell]

“Such as?” he presses, curious if James’ experienced the other talisman. One shows visible wounds, one loosens the tongue (to put it mildly), and the other…?

Crozier doesn’t push physically push Fitzjames down onto the chair, but he gets him as close as he can without doing some awkward shuffling. They’re still touching in some capacity - perhaps it’s needed? It wouldn’t be the most puzzling thing to happen in this place.

He really needs to start suspending his disbelief.

[gildedlife]

The hint is obvious enough, and James decides to compromise on that issue just as he refuses to do so on another. Loosing the physical contact with Raju had been alright, so perhaps it will be with Francis as well, and if not they're both right here; awkwardness and some pointed words or not, James doesn't have any real fear that either Francis or Raju would just let his condition worsen again without helping. So it'll be fine, and he takes the seat, and dares to let go of Francis.

One breath, and then another, and he's alright. Hopefully, simply being here has appeased this place enough, and it won't require anything further.

But having complied with taking a rest for the moment, that's as much as he'll allow, and has no intention of answering the question. Not at the moment, at least.

"We can discuss that at a later time; I'll not be distracted from the matter at hand." He fixes Francis with a serious look as he says it, not at all willing to let this slide; he wants to know what's going on.

[goingtobeunwell]

Ducking the question hadn’t been his intent; if it had been he would have done a much better job of it. Fitzjames is giving him that look now, expectant and serious, and Christ, how he hates when he’s on the other end of that look.

He ducks his head, feeling Ram leave where he’d been fiddling with the fire just behind him. He thought he already explained the issue - old wounds reopening, coming apart at the seams - but apparently these things need to be illustrated now.

“Fine,” he grumbles, hand to the hem of his shirt. “But you have to wrap me back up like a damn mummy after this.”

Cabin being as toasty and warm as it is he’s only wearing a few layers, the first of which he removes to reveal a simple, albeit bloodstained shirt, which Crozier awkwardly shrugs off with his only working hand. The other, still wrapped up snugly, stays in place as he tugs at the meticulously-wound bandages covering his sturdy-looking trunk. The claw marks from the creature that drape across the top of his chest are fresh-looking, raw and open and oozing, but the wounds have been the least of his concern and have been allowed to be uncovered. The reason is apparent when the last of the gauze comes off - his stomach has been ripped open, his bowels decorating his lower half like morbid bunting.

He doesn’t stop there though, and tugs the bandaging off his hand too, showing off the surprisingly clean cuts from Silna’s ulu that severed his left hand from the wrist.

There now, all bare. He grips just below the cut to his wrist, inhaling sharply like he’s been called to muster and awaiting inspection.

[gildedlife]

James' gaze flickers briefly toward Raju as he moves, but then returns immediately toward Francis as he decides to just show James what he's talking about; James would've accepted an answer more descriptive than simply 'old wounds opening but not scurvy', but a demonstration works just as well even if the whole situation is... Awkward, to say the least. In so many respects.

Awkwardness is immediately forgotten, however, once the wounds start to become visible. The marks on Francis' chest are concerning, but not so much so that James interrupts to address them, particularly not when Francis begins unwrapping the bandages and--

A cold, nauseating jolt runs through James at the sight and he's back on his feet again in an instant, the world narrowing as his instinctive reaction is to do something, to help in some way, to take some sort of action in what's clearly an emergency. Except it's not, and clearly Francis is... Perhaps not fine, but not affected as he should be by the absolutely horrifying injury, and that discontinuity between the sight of the wound and how Francis is acting casts a surreal daze over the situation. It seems impossible, even if distantly James knows strange things happen here all the time, and this is hardly all that strange in the grand scheme of things.

It's with only a delayed reaction that he even notices that Francis has also unwrapped his wrist too, but that injury makes sense, and that's another part of all of this; James knew Francis lost his hand, even if he hadn't been there when it happened. He doesn't know what caused the cuts on his chest, but those are reasonable enough to imagine any number of ways he could've gotten them. But the other, the terribly gruesome and yet apparently non life-threatening wound to the stomach is another issue entirely, both in difficulty making sense of the situation, and in the reality that even if it seems not to be dangerous now, it must have happened for real at some point. But when?

But first, he has to be sure--

"This isn't... Is it not real?" Is it just an illusion, or perhaps physically real but somehow not dangerous to Francis' health? He doesn't understand, and the sight seems surreal, and he keeps finding himself so intensely focused on the need to act and deal with the situation one moment while the next he feels so distant it barely seems real.

[goingtobeunwell]

“Not real,” he clarifies, though as he speaks he keeps almost deathly still to avoid moving things. It might not be real, but everything is still very much a part of him. “Just a very vivid illusion. I can’t feel a thing.”

Except embarrassment, but at this point it feels almost silly to be embarrassed by something so well beyond his own control. He looks down at himself, the angry tuunbaq claw marks and the gutting from the old bear, and then raises his gaze to meet James’ again. He should just tell him what happened, playing coy about this sort of thing never helped anyone.

“That grizzled bear charged me down not too long ago. I survived, despite what the wound might imply. I can’t begin to explain my recovery, something about Ram killing the old bastard I’d assume, but Enola must have decided I didn’t live long enough with the goring and brought the injuries back.”

His explanation is dry, almost humorously so, as though it’s a little bit funny to be standing there looking like this and not at all something out of a nightmare.

[gildedlife]

An illusion. Okay. Horrifying, but understandable, and it does truly seem that Francis is alright despite appearing anything but, so James begins to calm a little. Enough that he can be a little horrified all over again by the story, but also still have room to be skeptical of it.

"You killed it?" James asks, turning his attention briefly toward Raju again for the first time since he'd decided to ignore him. "How? I shot it several times with both a rifle and congreves, to no avail."

Even when it had been solid instead of a phantom, bullets had no effect, leading to the reason James' coat had to be repaired in the first place; the essentially entirely missing sleeve and huge holes in the left side of his coat had come from his own attack by the bear, which he'd survived only due to Kate's power. The idea that Francis was attacked as well is a horror James can not just sympathize but empathize with, and the concepts of both some sort of magical healing and this place--or Enola specifically, perhaps--bringing the wounds back in illusory form make enough sense. He just can't believe Raju actually killed the bear.

cw talk of previous suicidal intention

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju, previously busy trying not to be too grateful that not being asked about the whole thing meant he hadn't decided to explain, in case that gratitude pulled his attention too close to the topic, turns away from the slowly boiling water to lean back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and answering casually. "Well, I was about to blow myself up too at the time, I think that must have made the fire stronger. I couldn't see the bear then, it'd already gone; I've never been able to do that before, set something on fire if I couldn't see it. It felt different. I think I put more of myself into it, because it didn't matter what happened after. But Francis is alive again so I don't think I could do it now, not at a distance like that. I suppose I should try, just to know."

He grimaces, not liking the idea -- and then his expression slowly sinks. He bites at the inside of his lip, looking dismayed at Fitzjames for one quiet second, two, and then turns back around, hands moving quickly, trying to look busy finding herbs and dishes that he doesn't need to take out yet. "I think it must have been the gift," he finds himself going on anyway, not sure if it's the spell making him want to or the simple drive to change the subject to anything else. "The fire, instead of a mortal weapon, that let it work. If Enola gave us a rifle of her own I'm sure it would work much better on things like that than any weapon you came here with."

[goingtobeunwell]

It isn’t as though he can actually speak on what happened with the bear, not with any clarity anyway, but between him and Ram he’s probably the better option to answer Fitzjames’ questions. But Ram jumps in anyway, and Crozier turns away to retrieve his shirt and hide the visible wince at how much is being revealed.

Hopefully James won’t push. Stick to the talk of the bear and the magical weaponry, not the whole ‘self-immolation’ piece of this.

[gildedlife]

James is silent as Raju starts speaking, and keeps speaking, and reveals more and more. He stares back, as Raju stares at him, and his gaze lingers only a few moments after Raju turns away before James turns his attention back toward Francis.

He can be spiteful, and he can be petty, and he can be both purposefully and unintentionally hurtful. But outside of a moment of anger, James has no real desire to truly hurt others, and as annoyed--and a number of other complicated emotions that are difficult to name--as he feels toward Raju, that sentiment does include him. He has no intention of throwing this uncontrollable admission back at him, especially not when he remembers revealing adjacent thoughts the last time he was in this cabin.

So after Raju's finished, James is silent only a few moments before picking up the offered change in subject.

"Perhaps she should offer such assistance instead of inflicting... Whatever this is." The truth-telling, the illusion, the affliction that affect their breathing. If Enola wanted to bring them together, perhaps she should be focusing on a way to protect them rather than inflicting emotional--and in this latest case, physical--harm.

[load_aim_shoot]

"Mhm." There's only so much preparing to make what passes for tea in this place that he can do; he's finished with this part of it already. His busy hands hover for a moment, looking for something else to do, and then he sighs and turns back around. "I don't think she meant to do it this time. Or something wasn't going the way she wanted. She was crying in the latest dream, wasn't she, or something like that? I only wish we'd got a competent god helping us. I didn't want to tell you what happened with the bear; Francis wasn't being honest when he said that he survived, so he must not want you to know he died. I felt it happen. That's why I killed the bear. Francis just came back after that, and the wounds were gone."

He squirms a little, physical discomfort distracting him before he can realise what he's said. "I burned myself after. It hurts when I lean back like this. Everything takes so long to heal."

[goingtobeunwell]

He adores Ram with all his heart and soul, but he would very much like for him to shut his mouth right now. He finishes throwing his shirt back over his head and grabs the bandage for his wrist from where he’d set it onto the empty armchair, walking quickly to Ram and thrusting the bandage out for him to take.

“Help me.”

Will it stop him from saying anything else? Maybe, maybe not, but at least he can make it clear that follow up questions won’t be tolerated. It isn’t a demand for secrecy - lord knows how that’s gone between the three of them - but a very strong need to just Not Talk About It, at least until these curses have passed.

“It’s meant to bring us together,” he says, trying to stir the conversation along. “At least that’s my current theory. Bind us together through a shared plight, or some such nonsense.”

[gildedlife]

James is entirely willing to get onto the topic of complaining about Enola--it seems like a relatively safe topic to commiserate about--but then Raju keeps talking, and what he says should feel unbelievable. But considering their situation, considering how Francis looks and what James has experienced, the idea of someone coming back from the dead is truly not that strange. Distressing, certainly, and James has other complicated feelings and questions--what does Francis remember, was it sudden, does he understand what's it's like now, does he feel anything other than relief at his return--but he doesn't have to know Francis as well as he does to know he doesn't want questions right now.

For the moment, James will respect that, though he fixes his gaze on Francis in a way that he hopes makes it very clear that he is not letting this go, just diverting from it temporarily.

"Perhaps. But I fail to see how your particular afflictions would accomplish such a thing." Particularly if Francis and Raju had just stayed around each other and not left the cabin. But even then, Raju's inability to filter probably isn't helpful when it comes to maintaining harmony, so this really seems counterproductive at best.

James' particular issue is a much clearer one when it comes to forcing people together, at least physically, but he's not very inclined to forgive either the intent or the method. "And I was in another settlement, several days' travel from here. It feels like something of a disproportionate risk." He could've just as easily died, and he can't help but wonder it was more a punishment for daring to leave than an actual attempt to bring them together.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju obediently begins wrapping the bandage back around Francis' wrist. As Francis talks Raju's hands slow and his lips thin; he ducks his head and tries to focus on listening. Listening, and not speaking. Not thinking. That hasn't worked in any significant way since the moment Raju woke up like this, but he doesn't know how to do anything but try.

"If she's trying to bind us together," he puts in an instant later, not looking up from his work on Francis' bandage, "she must be desperate after that storm. She doesn't seem much for making plans; maybe this was the best she could do. Were you so far away because you wanted to avoid us, by the way? Francis didn't want me to ask, probably because he didn't want to scare you away again."

At this point he feels a hand over his mouth, and doesn't know why that sort of thing ought to stop him. It isn't even, in that moment, clear why Francis might want it to. What Raju is saying is true, after all. They ought to hear it. So he keeps going, regardless of whether the words are too muffled now behind Francis' fingers to be understood: "But if you were you ought to have to at least admit it."

[goingtobeunwell]

The distraction angle works…briefly, but as Rama continues to speak it’s clear he’s only a few words away from veering off course. Crozier’s a beat or two too late when he does finally slap his hand over Ram’s mouth, and naturally he keeps talking because why would a little nuisance like a hand over his mouth prevent him from speaking his truth?

Crozier cringes and offers an apologetic glance in Fitzjames’ direction.

“It’s…been like this for days,” he explains, hand still firmly clasped over the offending mouth. “Please don’t take offense, James. We all have thoughts that are best kept in our own heads.”

[gildedlife]

It's for the best that James had stood up when he'd seen Francis' illusory injuries, or he would've stood up now in agitation. His patience is waning very quickly, and although James knows it's not really Raju's fault that he's being... Like he is, that doesn't make it easier to deal with. Especially not when the comments are so insulting, much more so in their implications than the actual words themselves, and James' eyes narrow slightly in irritation as his gaze flickers from Raju to Francis and back. Raju may be the one speaking, but he was relaying Francis' comment this time, though James also hasn't forgotten Raju's own remarks earlier on.

Not taking offense is impossible. But he can at least attempt to temper his own response to an extent, and when he does it's directed toward both Raju and Francis; although he's measured when he speaks, his tone and expression are both cold and challenging.

"I was far away because a new passage opened up, which allowed us to reach an entire town of survivors who live along the coast." He allows the words to hang for a moment, the mention of the coast--the ocean--in particular, before adding a somewhat more pointed comment. "Perhaps there has been some sort of misunderstanding, so let me be clear: I am entirely capable of making decisions that have nothing to do with either of you."

Leaving for Lakeside had, in truth, been somewhat informed by the events of the storm, but it hadn't been the main reason; there had been several others that weighed in alongside it. The cabin James had stayed in since arriving in Milton had been damaged in the storm, he had long been wanting to turn his attention toward the boundaries of the settlements, and he'd been convinced at that point that Edward and Irving were safe enough together that he doesn't need to be nearby, but Jopson was quite isolated out in Lakeside. Those reasons had all come together to prompt James to move, but after that, he'd turned his focus toward issues of the bear and future exploration.

He is not going to pine outside the door of the cabin, staying nearby just in case someone might wish to call on him. The implications that he'd run away or been acting selfishly by daring to turn his attention elsewhere had been ones he'd been willing to ignore once, but not this time.

[load_aim_shoot]

Fitzjames' cold, challenging tone sees the half of Raju's expression not covered by Francis' hand looking pointedly unconvinced. He makes a muffled, sarcastic noise from behind Francis' fingers as he looks back down, making sure the bandage around Francis' wrist is well tied, then looks to Francis again, putting his hand around the one over his mouth. He isn't going to push down, not if Francis fights him on it, but he is going to push just hard enough to suggest that Francis should let him speak again. Even if Fitzjames believes what he's said that doesn't mean it isn't nonsense, and someone ought to tell him why.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier never believed Fitzjames had been running - avoiding, perhaps, but he couldn’t blame him for wanting some space after all that transpired between them. But Ram is correct in that he did worry terribly when they didn’t see Fitzjames for a while, hemming and hawing about the irreparable damage he might have inadvertently caused between himself and the person he’d been closest to during the very worst moments of his life. And despite all the apologizing and ameliorating and outright silencing Ram, he’s failing miserably at maintaining the peace.

Crozier makes the decision to pull his hand back and just let Ram speak freely. Whatever happens next is surely better than his pathetic attempts to keep things from going pear shaped in his own home.

“I don’t blame you, James,” he adds, wanting at least that much to be heard. “Not for striking out to explore nor for keeping your distance, intended or not. But I was worried. That’s all.”

[gildedlife]

James ignores the look--and what sounds suspiciously like a scoff--from Raju, turning his glare in Francis' direction instead when he speaks. But as usual, his flare of temper is fading as quickly as it had arrived, and although he's certainly still means the words he says next, there's far less heat behind them than there might've otherwise been.

"I was not difficult to find."

The lieutenants had known where he was. If Francis had been that worried, he need simply have asked one of them to get James' location, even if he were in the midst of running around somewhere other than where he usually is.

But at the same time--

"However, I understand you may not have wished to seek me out." It isn't an accusation, though it could be taken that way; he understands that Francis may have simply been attempting to give him some space, to not make things more difficult. James won't hold it against him that he didn't reach out first.

[load_aim_shoot]

"You didn't even write," Raju says derisively, turning away to finish up the tea. "We might not be able to manage a mail service, but someone would have taken a letter."

But then-- "Not that we tried to send one to you when Francis died," Raju notes, straining the tea into the cups. "But I wouldn't have anyway, if it were only up to me. That's not the kind of thing you tell family. Francis, give this one to Fitzjames."

As he says it he hands Francis the worst mug, a ridiculous thing good for little but trying to embarrass whoever's being made to use it, which managed to survive the moment that storm froze the inside of the house and which Fitzjames has earned by getting defensive. The tea, though, isn't only the usual dandelion water; some of Raju's limited supply of ginger and cloves have gone into it too to make it taste a little better, a message that he -- for once -- doesn't think to mention out loud, whether or not Fitzjames notices. If Francis passes that mug along he'll receive their newly scavenged one, a more dignified handmade thing glazed roughly the colour that Fitzjames' coat had been before those awful repairs, and Raju gets the tin cup.

[gildedlife]

James doesn't even notice which mug he's handed, so disinterested in the tea that he hardly pays it attention; he's upset, and never has any real desire to drink anything while upset.

The smell of the spices will catch his attention soon enough, but first he just takes the tea on autopilot, frowning at Raju. What he says this time isn't all too offensive, even tempered a bit with the comment about family, but James still isn't feeling all too charitable at the moment.

"How long ago was it?" The death, or near death, or whatever had happened. When had it been? How long have they told no one about it?

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju frowns, thinking. “It’s been three days of this, and this started the third night after Francis died — I’d been sleeping near where you are, Francis never minds it when I wake badly but cleaning burnt sheets is embarrassing, and I don’t like waking him. And I thought these might be worse than usual. I don’t really mind burning myself. But the third night I thought it might not be as bad. And I woke and his stomach was open again.”

He realizes the thinking aloud has gotten him away from the question and lifts his head again. “Sorry. About a week ago. Why? Wondering if you could have helped?”

Instead of of thinking about the topic itself or whether he should have asked the question— it might only make him feel terrible and won’t let him stop anything, there’s no point if he can avoid doing it — he takes a drink of the tea. Still miles from being proper tea but the ginger and cloves help, and he stops focusing on whatever Fitzjames’ expression might be doing to better savour the taste of them.

[gildedlife]

A week. James bites the inside of his cheek in a show of agitation, letting his fingers rest against the too-hot surface of the mug slightly longer than he should before shifting its weight, distracting himself just a little from the situation and the answer he'd received. He cares less about not being told--he was five days' travel away at the time--and more that it seems to have had a deep effect on them; Raju not outright describing nightmares but still clearly alluding to them, and who knows what Francis might be feeling--

Except James does know what Francis might be feeling, which makes it worse.

His temper has fully drained once more at this point, leaving sadness and exhaustion in its place, enough so that James barely reacts to the last question. Of course he wonders, and of course he knows the answer all the same; he couldn't have helped, even if he were present. He and Wynonna had fought the thing, tried to kill it with the entire purpose being to prevent it from harming anyone else, and they'd both nearly died. If James had been present for this incident then perhaps he could've saved Francis by intervening, but most likely it would've just ended with both of them dead.

He can't even really make a jab at Raju about how he should've killed the thing earlier if he were capable of it, since he's already explained that he doesn't think he would've been if Francis hadn't been killed, so there's no point in that. As usual, there's no point in anything, and it's strange just how fast he can go from the flickering of hope and purpose he'd felt upon reaching Silverpoint right back to the depression and sense of futility that settles over him now.

James thinks, for a moment, that it's emotion that makes his throat and chest begin to feel tight, but after a few suddenly gasping breaths it becomes apparent it isn't, it's whatever this place is doing; apparently they've gone too long without touching, or perhaps too long without a sense of camaraderie, and they--or perhaps just James--are being punished for it.

[load_aim_shoot]

A moment of silence starts, goes, keeps going, and Raju's chest begins to tighten, air becoming harder to come by for no good reason at all. The reason is that woman trying to push him somewhere and he pushes back against it without really thinking, holding his breath so at least for a moment the punishment won't bother him, and tries to keep enjoying the aftertaste of the tea, the blessed moment of not wanting to say anything at all, and doesn't look up. But when he does finally look, Fitzjames' breath is coming in gasps. It's become his habit to ignore it, but he won't be able to for long, will he? He tries to sigh.

Walking over and setting his hand on Fitzjames' shoulder seems to help, or at least it helps Raju. "Well?" he asks, as if the moment hadn't happened. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you ask?"

[gildedlife]

He knows what will cure the problem, presuming--he realizes suddenly, with a jolt of anxiety--it will work again, but stubbornness prompts James not to act immediately, much in the same way Raju doesn't. But then Raju is moving, and touches James' shoulder, and again there's that strange sense of it being part of the right thing to do but not all of it.

The affliction has come on much more suddenly and completely than it had before, and any will to continue being stubborn fades very quickly as he begins to feel lightheaded. He reaches up to grab Raju's wrist, unwilling to risk losing contact as he has to move toward Francis, reaching out for his shoulder in turn.

Just like last time, the effect is thankfully immediate. So James takes a moment to focus on breathing, and if it serves as yet another excuse not to answer Raju's question, then all the better; it's not as though he even has an answer to be avoiding giving, he's just being difficult on principle at this point.

[goingtobeunwell]

Once the dam had burst Crozier had resigned himself to watching the flood. Fighting to hold up a fragile peace is just too tiring, not to mention utterly fruitless and actually quite impossible.

Their bickering only serves to further impress upon him how alike these two men are, and how efficient and chaotic any kind of friendship between them might be. It’d be funny if it wasn’t such a frightening prospect - the two of them hunting down an ancient bear or setting out to explore a treacherous mountain or cave. Maybe it’s for the best that they’re vexed by each other’s presence.

The bickering, of course, solves nothing, and he can practically hear the rattle in James’ lungs as he struggles for breath and reaches for both him and Ram. He shakes his head and does want he’s wanted to do all this time, grabbing hold of James and pulling him in for a tight, protective embrace.

He was wrong, James was right, he was right and James was wrong - who the hell cares? He died and his insides are on his outsides and this world is insane and cruel, but James Fitzjames is here with him, so all is well.

Still holding fast to James, he raises his eyes to Ram and holds out his hand to him.

“I don’t care anymore,” he says quietly. “About how it started and why and when, if there’s blame to be had, if I’m alive or dead, if any of us are alive or dead - I’m just very glad I have the two of you here with me now.”

Yes, there’s pain, yes, there’s strife, and yes, it’s awkward, but his life was once so lonely and now he can’t recall feeling as unmoored as he once did. How rich a man he is now, how fortunate, how put-upon in the best of ways. Maybe they won’t see it his way, but it doesn’t matter. He can be grateful all the same.

[load_aim_shoot]

Raju raises his eyebrows, surprised-- but not for long. He knows that Francis, in some ways, couldn't be less like him. He doesn't know if the man has any idea what it feels like to be looking forward to a fight. Not that he would have started one on purpose. Not with Fitzjames. Probably. But he'd felt the possibility in Fitzjames' clear tension, and he can't imagine seeing something like that coming and minding it.

Maybe it's for the best. It's impossible to really decide how best to not seem like the aggressor when his ability to decide anything at all is so far out of his control just now. And more importantly, Francis would mind, and Francis loves Fitzjames either like a brother or like a wife or both, and for his sake Raju would do a great many things.

He does hesitate first though, frowning, not liking Francis holding a hand out to him while he's holding Fitzjames that way. One thing or the other would be alright, but what exactly is it he's going to expect Raju to do once Raju takes it?

Well, he isn't very well going to refuse. Still, he's frowning when he takes Francis' hand, his own having slipped from Fitzjames' shoulder when Francis had taken the man into his arms, and doesn't move to do much more than that.

[gildedlife]

The dizziness and disorientation caused by the most recent bout of breathlessness make it even more unexpected and surreal when James feels Francis pull him closer, into an embrace. And so, for a moment, he freezes, surprised and confused and suddenly entirely overwhelmed.

James has always been much more comfortable with physical contact than many of the other men on the Expedition, but the other side of his willingness to reach out a hand is that he often needs the same in return. He needs that physical reassurance, the contact; even if it's nothing more than a fleeting touch on the shoulder, it's grounding, a representation and reinforcement of the emotional bonds he also desperately desires. However he also never really expects it, almost always the one to initiate, and so to be pulled into an embrace is entirely unexpected, and that it's Francis' doing and in this utterly complicated situation only makes it all the more confusing.

But it isn't in a bad way. Perhaps it should be, and he should be upset that this is only happening now, that Francis is speaking to both him and Raju, that he can sense Raju moving closer at what's likely Francis' beckoning. And perhaps--or almost certainly--it will be, eventually, when those issues have the time to be brought up once again, but there will be plenty of time for that.

For now, James doesn't want to fight. For now, he allows himself to sink into the embrace, to return it, to try to find both his courage and his voice.

"I care that you're alive." He informs Francis earnestly, but with the faintest hint of humor to it. An understatement, of course; he can't imagine how devastated he would've been had Francis died, and not just Francis, but Raju too. James may not like Raju much of the time, but that certainly doesn't mean he wants him dead, and certainly not for him to die in such a tragic way.

But saying that wasn't the difficult part. The difficult part is being honest, being truthful, even though he knows it might hurt to do so. But after what happened during the storm it's not as though things could get much worse, and after finding out he'd nearly lost Francis and hadn't even known about it, he feels he has to take the risk.

So whenever the moment passes, and they pull away from the embrace, James takes a breath and shifts his gaze toward Raju, keeping his voice measured and genuine as he speaks.

"I was told that something incredibly serious occurred; why wouldn't I ask when? I have not lost the desire to know of what happens to those I care for, no matter what distance may be between us." And whether that distance is physical or metaphorical hardly matters.

[goingtobeunwell]

Crozier keeps one arm around James while the other reaches out to Ram and hangs onto his hand, worried that he might lose his breath in the moments that they’re not touching. He meets Ram eyes and then lowers his gaze, head very briefly resting on James’ shoulder. He shouldn’t have waited so long to hold his friend, and finds himself oddly enjoying the embrace for what it is, a moment to be close to James again, a good memory to balance out all those other moments that came before. Their intimacy, if lying in a tent or hauling side-by-side could be called true intimacy, had been tinged with rot and tragedy, and before that he’d been too drunk or vexed with James (or both) to want to be around him.

Holding him without having to fret over rattling his fragile joints or smelling the blood in his hairline is…good. It’s very good. If he could replace the pain with this he’d be a less broken man.

“I am happy to be alive. Don’t twist my words,” he mumbles back, equally as earnest and just a little bit sardonic.

When he feels the embrace begin to loosen he pulls himself back, though continues to sit close enough so that their knees brush, and lets Ram’s hand go with a fond squeeze. Hopefully that’s enough contact to keep everyone’s lungs full, but if not he wouldn’t be opposed to Ram reaching for a shoulder - his or James, whatever keeps him from turning blue.

The awkwardness that danced between the three of them had existed since Fitzjames came strolling out of the woods in front of their cabin, but it became excruciating after the ice storm. It’s his fault, of course, his fault for all of it. Animosity wouldn't exist if not for him, and he honestly has no idea what to do with any of it.

But at least no one’s dying today, and James seems less ready to knock someone’s teeth out. “The distance was created by both parties. I’d be a recluse if you let me.”

Had been, in fact. That stupid ice hut.

“I…” He raises his shoulder in a shrug, right hand opening with what’s left of the other arm left clearly miming the gesture. “I hate the void. Empty space where there used to be friendship and warmth.”

[gildedlife]

Had the situation been different, had it been that first month--or even two--after arriving here, James might've clung to the embrace for longer; a part of him, even now, still wants to. But the proximity, the small amount of contact that remains, is enough for now, calming and reassuring while still some sense of separation. There is indeed a distance, a void, but Francis is facing it and so James will too, his anger once again drained away and replaced with the real emotions underneath.

"Do you?" It isn't bitterness in his tone when he asks, more a sense of resignation, and his gaze flickers toward Raju briefly before returning to Francis. "You seemed content here. As though you have everything you desired."

And that had been part of the distance James had kept, physically and otherwise. Neither Francis nor Raju seemed to really need anyone else around, having found a life they enjoy together and apparently content to remain that way, and James had decided not to impose. It had seemed the simplest choice, the one that would be easiest for everyone, and one that would keep James from having to face both the feelings that the ruby-flecked string he revealed, and the awful sense that he's been replaced and now is nothing more than an obligation.

It should have been the simplest choice, and it had been working, and James had been finding new things to do and places to turn his attention. Except now he's back here again, and the problems they hadn't solved are still here, and he could have lost Francis without ever trying to fix them.

[load_aim_shoot]

"I don't want to be here," Raju notes, turning and walking away, still talking half at them and half at himself, without so much as looking over his shoulder. "You should have worked this out last time. Why do you keep doing this when I'm here? If you're both going to keep arguing like Francis has a second wife, you ought to at least figure out how to do it privately."

For once, the moment when his own sense sets in after saying something like this doesn't bring shame with it. Someone ought to have said it, and he doesn't wait for a reply. He doesn't know yet whether he's going to the bedroom or the cellar, but he's putting at least one wall between himself and the brewing conversation.

[goingtobeunwell]

Well. Fair’s fair. They do keep dragging Rama into their mess, and he can’t begrudge him for being fed up with the whole business. He’ll apologize later, after they’ve gotten all this sorted out and it doesn’t feel so much like he’s gotten in trouble with the missus.

He exhales quietly to fill the space left by Ram. There are points to be made about the ‘second wife’ quip and Fitzjames’ own observations about his quiet life and not having room for anyone else, but they can’t keep going like this.

“He’s right, of course,” he says quietly, sitting with a straight back instead of a comfortable slouch. “Why are we doing this, James? What part of me has ever given you the impression I didn’t want you in my life?”

Because true, he does live apart, but never isolated, never without friends and loved ones.