singillatim | bad luck, old sport

The question isn't unexpected, but it still strikes Crozier right in the gut.

"It's difficult to say," he murmurs. "We were killing it slowly with each soul it devoured. I landed the final blow, but it had died...choking."

And he'll leave it at that. It goes against his point that Hickey isn't be entirely evil - he's firm in his belief there - but tuunbaq certainly did choke on his blackened soul.

"What's a monster, Kate?" he adds softly. "Is it the creature that devours souls, a man who eats his own to survive, a captain who ignores his men for whiskey? My heart is too broken to believe in something so black and white."

"... If you hadn't been there, it would still be alive." her voice is quiet as she says it, her gaze lowering. It's sobering. We were strangers to their land, unwanted and unneeded. Their Expedition had come to their land and they'd... that was the price.

They'd been stuck, for years. They'd starved, grown sick, Tuunbaq had hunted them down, consumed their souls. Grown sick and died. Kate falters, she doesn't know what to say.

Kate looks up again at the question, she's taken aback as she listens: a captain who ignores his men for whiskey. It stuns her to hear, saddens her.

"I... I don't know." she says finally, her eyes are glossy. She shakes her head. Uncertainty isn't new to her. She's doubted a lot of things over the past half a year or so — the scales constantly misbalanced. "I used to think I did, but I... I don't think I know anything anymore."

He's made his peace with his own self-destructive past, but he'll never forgive himself for wasting time and putting himself ahead of others. All he can do now is reflect and keep his actions in the forefront of his mind, lest he ever forgets.

Crozier pushes open the door to the church with his shoulder, ushering Kate inside quickly. He knows he's hurt her with all of this information; he feels terribly for it.

"You're not the only one," he reassures her. "None of us know anything for certain. Even me, and I'm about 100, as far as you know."

A smile. See? Not all that terrible.

"If you're about a hundred, then Mr Methuselah must be about five hundred." it startles a tiny laugh out of her and she does manage a small, tearful smile. It's a little silly of him, he's definitely not about a hundred.

It's cold, but at least it's a little warmer inside. Even just being in here is comforting, the quiet stillness.

"I always feel like my dad does. Know things for certain, I mean. He's the pastor of our church, he always knows the right thing to say."

'And the light shines in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.' Katie, you'll always be my brightest light against the dark. But he's not here, and she misses him terribly. All she has are his words on a postcard. She hurt him terribly, before she came here. He sent her those words even though she hurt him.

"Is that... why you're not a Captain anymore?" she asks, tentatively. "Lieutenant Little calls you it, but you don't. I don't think I've heard anyone else call you it, either. Is it... because of what happened, with the Tunnbaq? And the... whiskey?"

Knowing the right thing to say at any given occasion isn't the same as knowing everything, but one's perception of one's father is always a tricky thing. If it's comforting to Kate he wouldn't dare dream to argue.

He pulls his gloves off his hand and stump and stuffs them into the inside of his parka. Even from an outsider's perspective the question still hurts.

"I'd be a captain without a ship, without a crew. What purpose does a title serve now?"

He sighs softly and takes a seat at the front pew. "The whiskey was a sickness. Navy men tend to drink, but I was in a state when I took command. I let it take control of me, to the point that I'd poisoned myself and began neglecting my duties."

Crozier pauses. "I nearly died ridding myself of the drink, but I was a man reborn after. I crave it to this day. Never food, always the drink, but I wouldn't dare touch a drop now."

It's a good question, and at first Kate's not sure how to answer it. She's quiet for a few moments, considering.

"I... guess titles still mean things." Words, titles, there's power in them. They mean things. That's how she can see it. "We're stuck here, and there's no police, no army, no government and... that's kind of scary, you know? It's like, chaos. And if it's just chaos, then..."

Well, what hope do any of them have? And if this place is Hell or Purgatory or something like it, then— she shakes her head, shuddering a little. It doesn't sit well with her. But she takes a seat next to him, falling silent to listen to him. There's no judgement then, but she's sad for him.

"I don't know a lot, but— addiction is hard. I don't think people ever stop fighting it." Not everyone's able to keep fighting it, she knows that much.

"But... it takes a lot of strength to keep fighting it." she offers him a small smile. "I hope you keep that strength, Mr Crozier."

She's so gentle and sweet, and living in a place so harsh and unyielding can tear at that resolve to be kind. There's strength in fighting back, in continuing to be kind, but he worries that she'll be chewed up and spit out by one of the monsters lurking in the woods.

"Thank you," he replies softly. "It helps that it makes me feel ill to think of actually bringing the bottle to my lips." And that it wasn't readily available, and still isn't, though he's certain ingenuity's already led to the creation of some sort of booze.

Kate manages a wry smile. "That's something, at least." Like, yeah. Definitely something that'll kill the temptation dead right there.

"I don't really see the appeal of it, myself." Her nose wrinkles a little. "Most of the kids at my school drink, there's... a lot of parties and stuff."

She stops, swallows thickly. The less said about the parties at her school, the better. Stupid Vortex Club ruined her entire life.

"It's not my thing. I take a sip of wine for church but— yeah."

Ah, yes, social pressures. "That's not unique to your era," he tells her sympathetically. "Any social engagement there's something to imbibe. I was always prone to it...my father drank gin, but I'd managed to avoid dependance for years."

He frowns softly.

"After the expedition to Antarctica my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It was the only thing that helped."

"Kind of sucks some things never change." Bluntly put, really. But like, she feels like she's not wrong. It does kind of suck. Her lips are a thin line for a moment.

"Woah, wait. You went to Antarctica too?" she utters with it a sense of awe. "They have research stations there now, in my time. I think— McMurdo? That's the name of the American station?"

Okay, okay. Don't be a nerd. She winces a little.

"I guess it's a lot easier, in the future. With all the modern technology." she says quietly. "I guess going off into the unknown in your time would have been a whole lot scarier, right?"

No wonder he would have drank.

Crozier can't help it -- he barks out a surprised, absolutely delighted little chuckle. "McMurdo, you said? No."

He runs his hand across his chin in thought, still smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ross named the sound there after Archibald McMurdo, one of my lieutenants, and now you're telling me there's a station that bears his name now. People live in the place we discovered."

It's one of the more fantastic things he's heard yet since coming to this place.

"Yeah, for real." The laugh surprises her, her face lighting up with that surprise. But it's... a nice surprise.

It's... weird, you kind of forget about the people places are named after. Although to be fair, it's not as if you're going to meet anyone from said time of the naming of place.

"Yeah, like I think people live there all year round?" she explains. "Antarctica's pretty special. It's like— basically a neutral place of sorts? Sort of. But... scientists work there from all over the world. Biology, glaciology, geology... a whole bunch of natural sciences — studying the climate and stuff. It's really cool."

Crozier absolutely adores this idea the moment Kate begins to explain. A place just for the gathering of scientists, no country tie or status necessary, just a mind to study the wonders of Antarctica.

They're continuing what he and James Clark Ross started.

He knows himself. Later, when he's alone, he'll think back on this and quietly weep, a show of quiet joy and profound sadness at the thought of their work truly meaning something so far into the future. Perhaps they were forgotten, but not their discoveries. It's a marvel.

"What I wouldn't give to see it for myself."

Kate smiles. "It sucks there's no internet, I could at least show you that way."

It's not the same as seeing it for yourself, she knows. But he'd still be able to see a whole lot, read about what they all do there.

"... maybe there's, like, a... National Geographic?" Kicking it old school with paper stuff. "It's a magazine. Or something close to that. There's gotta be something in a physical copy here somewhere that might have photographs and stuff in it. That way you could see it yourself, in a way. I could keep an eye out for something like that for you."

Totally a mission in life: Find Mr Crozier Antarctica stuff. She'll have to ask Rorschach if he might have anything like that in the library.

What the hell is internet?

But a magazine he knows, and he responds to the offer with a very gentle nod of gratitude. "If you would, I'd be grateful."

Besides, something like that would be interesting reading for an old semi-academic as himself. He can't even fathom the things he's missed between his era and hers! Electricity and hot water on demand is something he can wrap his head around, but all else? The old, broken vehicles and these communication systems people keep referencing are entirely too foreign for his mind.

"You've taught me something today, Miss March. It's not something I take lightly."

bad luck, old sport

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cw alcoholism

cw: discussions of addiction

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