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 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.