singillatim | (closed)

It surprises him that a man as astute as Raju hadn’t realized his isolation had been a choice. He goes from pleased at the thought of Raju spending time with him - all the manners of things he could teach someone so eager to learn, the thought of actually having something to look forward to instead of the grim day-to-day - to taken aback and a bit more tinged with sorrow.

He just barely stops himself from laughing, amused that he seemed to have cultivated a sort of ‘strange-man-in-furs’ persona rather than a deliberate attempt to safeguard his heart.

It’s a difficult thing to explain, the exile and the reason he hates the thought of being anyone’s captain. Difficult and humiliating and a reminder of just how much time he should be spending loathing himself instead of making friends.

He struggles for another beat, measuring his response with a tilt of his head and a glance away from Raju and the fire, both somehow connected to each other. “I’m a miserable person by nature,” he answers, “or at least I should be.” He so badly wants to care for them all.

“If I hide away and refuse leadership, live with my ghosts away from everyone else, I don’t have to watch another hundred men die.”

No more tearful embraces with a best friend or killing a man he’d come to love so well because he’d begged. No more frozen corpses reaching towards the horizon, no more half-starved, half-crazed last words from someone barely in their 30s. He had enough.

While Francis struggles to answer, Raju waits. He'd feel badly about asking a question that's hit a target he wasn't expecting, usually. In the months before this place there had been Akhtar, but before that Raju's friendliest conversations had been the false ones, filled with charm and niceties and the stilted, restrained thing the English upper crust called warmth. In those, seeing real emotion this way would mean that Raju needed to give some excuse to turn the conversation away to something else. But after that long night in this very room that'd ended with Francis sleeping soundly under Raju's hands and Raju feeling... everything he'd felt looking down at the man then, and after the... the strange relief of talking about the impossible things that had driven Raju out of his bed at the Community Hall, he doesn't regret hitting that sore spot, doesn't turn the subject away and knows Francis wouldn't expect him to.

"And now?" he murmurs as he watches Francis intently, leaning forward, looking curious and a little proud. Francis had said otherwise, hadn't he, not a moment ago, that he'd been fooling himself. The man who believes he should keep hiding wouldn't have invited Raju to live with him; the man who doesn't believe it is still trying, and Raju is proud of it. "Not better off that way after all?"

Such a simple question. Such a simple and yet complex and difficult question to answers. A frown tugs at his mouth and he considers the struggle between loneliness and self-preservation.

"I'm the oldest person here, Raju. I have experience in worse conditions than this, can hunt seal and caribou, fish and construct weirs, tell the poisoned herbs from the medicinal ones, track ice and magnetism, and I'm a complete waste of a man sitting out in the wilderness keeping to myself."

He's been selfish, and it had taken an outright fight to get him to see that he was doing more harm than good forcing himself into his isolation.

"No one's better off, even if more die."

Raju takes a slow breath. The pride in his face has deepened, etched into his expression with eagerness, and something in him is... relieved, energised, that hadn't been certain before. It's hearing the reason that's done it, hearing Francis listing all the things he can do that no one else can, that he's going to do it now because it's needed. Raju had seen it in more than just Francis' words, the terrible pain and fear and tiredness when he'd said he was afraid of all of it happening again, and here he is, saying these things too, meaning them. He can keep fighting after long, unendurable pain, after enduring it, after giving up, so—

So it's important. Having tried to shed the load, stepping forward and picking it back up again. It's important that they both can still fight. The fire starts shivering as if caught up in a breeze and Raju's fingers curl, eyes darting over Francis' face. Then one of his hands grasps tightly just above Francis' elbow, and the other cups the back of his neck.

He can't tell someone that much older that he's proud. Not in so many words.

"I'm glad to know you, Francis." He says it emphatically and then smiles, expression sunny and relieved. "We'll be better off now. For you being here."

Oh, it's much, much too intimate, the words, the grasp of his friend's hands on his elbow and neck. Much too intimate, like that night Raju saved him from his own crippling lonel--

Ah, right. Right, it makes all the sense in the world. Raju saved him from the tomb of his own making, of course everything after that was going to feel far too personal.

"I'm glad you'll humor an old man," he replies, trying to match the brightness of Raju's smile. And it is brilliant, and sincere. Hell, if only he could be as helpful and patient with Raju's problems as Raju's been with his. He's listened to his sorry story, dragged his sorry arse out of a pile of ice, kept him company when he'd asked, even visited to check in on him after.

"But words like that will go to my head," he adds with a laugh. "I'll do my best to serve, as I should have done when I first arrived."

Raju opens his mouth in an instinct from those old, more polite conversations to relieve that should have, and then doesn't. All his conversations with this man have been honest, and telling him the responsibility hadn't existed when he'd first arrived wouldn't be. Responsibility is heavy, unchanging; reasons won't shift it, either good ones or bad.

But, "You're facing it anyway," he says, still smiling. His voice rasps just a little, and he realises his throat is tight. "Even though it hurts." His hands on Francis give a squeeze and Raju looks proud, leans back, and lets his hands slip down to the floor behind him to prop him up. The fire is larger now, probably large enough to eat up more firewood than Francis had planned on, over the course of the day. Raju can bring more. If that's his price for staying here, it's a fair one.

Raju watches him, smiling, for a moment. "When I got here you had a nail in your mouth," he remembers. "What were you doing?"

Even though it hurts. Truer words were never spoken, it’s painful to be known and possibly relied on once more. Failure a second time would destroy what little remained of Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier.

When Raju sits back so does he, and he takes full advantage of the offered segue to point out a few of the large holes in the walls. “Doing some very basic mending.”

It’s gone…so-so. He’s had to figure out how to nail something one-handed, which for him meant propping the nail up somehow so he could make the initial strike. The floor’s littered by all his failed attempts.

“I could use your help.”

"I'd like that." Pleasure creases Raju's face. It feels strange, a little, to smile so much. But he feels better. He pushes himself easily to his feet, moving over to the nearest wall and crouching to start picking up the nails scattered there. It's easy to guess what part of it Francis needs Raju's help with; Raju doesn't know much of anything about home repair, but he's sure he can hold a nail.

"You're lucky you have so many of these," Raju teases, grinning over his shoulder at Francis. "Do you know much about mending like this? I've never done any of it myself; I'm sure I was lucky the place I lived before was too sturdy to need it."

“I know enough to nail a piece of wood to another piece of wood.” And he’s lucky enough to have a second room to raid for things like said nails and wood.

“And I know enough that if I cover a hole then I won’t feel the breeze on my arse as I sleep at night.”

Raju breathes out a sudden, surprised laugh. For all Raju's learned about the man he's looking forward to spending the days with, he doesn't know his sense of humour yet.

"No repairs needed in that iglu either, then?" he asks, standing to set the handful of nails on an end table and unwinding the blanket from around him. It'll be chilly without it, because chilly is as warm as it ever gets here, but he'd rather be able to move. "Then I hope you've practised your aim with that hammer."

Ah, it’s a fine laugh. Good, he’s got a sense of humor under those intense eyes.

“I can pat snow one-handed,” he smirks. “The rest…I’m doing what I can.” He’s had to find things to stick the nails into to keep them upright— hence the shredded mushrooms Raju might find also littered about the floor.

Raju makes an agreeable noise, bundling the blanket up and setting it out of the way, surveying what they have to work with. Nails, pieces of wood of varying size. Holes or bits of damaged wood, likewise of various sizes, here and there in the cabin's walls. Bits of mushroom over the floor, for some reason.

"I'll hold the wood and the nails if you'd rather keep the hammer," he decides. "But if it gets too many of my fingers we have to switch."

He laughs quietly and climbs to his feet. It's best to start with the giant holes and then worry about the littler ones later. "What's your limit? Two, three fingers? Because I can't guarantee I won't hit you."

He's joking, of course. He can hold a hammer steady now that he's stone cold sober.

“Let’s start at three and work from there.” Raju smiles at him, corners of his eyes crinkling, and picks up a piece of wood and a nail or two, walking closer toward the fireplace again and looking around.

“Where do you sleep? In front of the fireplace here? The worst offender from there would be, ah…” He trails off as he turns, looking over all of the walls to try and pick out the most important point to patch up. Keeping the breeze off his arse might have been half a joke but half of it wasn’t, and wherever it is Francis has been sleeping should be fixed up first.

"You could lose five and still be functional."

And in case he looks his way he raises his non-hand for a cheeky wave.

Right, the wall. Which hole in particular is catching all the wind at night? He points to a spot that's let in the snow before. "This one. Let's start here, mn?"

Raju’s still laughing at the wave from the hand that isn’t there when he moves over to the spot that Francis pointed at.

“If you lose me all five you’re doing the rest of this yourself,” Raju grins, holding the wood over the hole with one hand and shifting the nails around in his other to hold one over the top edge of the wood, at the center. “And going back to… how were you managing before? Holding the nail in place with your teeth?”

Crozier picks up the hammer again, chuckling in slight embarrassment at the question. “Ah, I’d…I’ve been testing various supports for the nail that I can then pull away. Large mushrooms were the closest I’d come to solving my one-handed construction problem, but even then…”

Clearly it wasn’t that successful.

Raju's eyebrows rise. "Mushrooms?"

He looks at the evidence on the floor, which makes at least some kind of sense now, then back to Francis. He isn't afraid to make fun of it; his expression isn't holding back at all. "You really are lucky I came. You'd be using up the rest of your lunch next."

The amusement at Francis' expense hasn't run out but curiosity is sneaking up behind it, so at least half of Raju's tone is honest curiosity when he goes on. "Were they sticking, then? I wouldn't have thought they would at all. Was it the moisture?"

"Well of course they weren't sticking!" The actual process is far more ridiculous and humiliating. He sighs. "I had to set the plank on the ground, put the nail into the mushroom, tap the nail into the plank just enough to stabilize it, remove the mushroom and then drive the nail in the rest of the way in the correct place. So needless to say it wasn't at all successful."

Raju's laughing isn't as quiet this time, and by the time that Francis finishes explaining Raju's pressing his lips hard together, paying lip service to the idea that he's trying to stop and look serious, for Francis' sake. "A fine effort. Maybe you can call on me and just eat your mushrooms next time. Are you ready to start here, or do you need..."

He looks over at the shredded mushrooms on the floor and back again, eyebrows raised, expression expectant. If Francis wants to try his mushroom trick again, Raju's expression says, innocently, then Raju's willing to go over and get one.

"I've got a hammer, you know," Crozier says dryly. Laughing at him! Laughing at his attempts to poke a nail through a mushroom in order to hold it down so he could take a proper swing! Laughing at his obviously very funny attempts to be independent!

He smirks softly. "Hold the damn plank and nail, and let's get this hole covered."

Raju holds the damn plank and nail as ordered, smile deepening around his eyes as his lips still sort of try to hold it back.

“I’d like to find something to cover those edges with, too,” he notes after a moment of watching Francis’ hand to be at least mostly certain that his fingers will be mostly safe. His smile lingers, fading a little as he shifts his focus. “Glue or something. Something will come through otherwise, if the storms here are anything like the sandstorms back in Delhi.”

Raju’s fingers were never in any danger. He’s long past the point where the lack of whiskey would cause trembling hands. Once the first plank’s in he steps back to look at their handiwork.

“Caulking would do nicely, if we could find it.” It’s a shame Hickey wasn’t the real caulker’s mate; it would have been useful in this place.

His thoughts drift to Fitzjames at the mention of sandstorms. Didn’t he have a story similar to that? What he wouldn’t give to have him here now to vex him half to death with his annoying bloody stories.

“Tell me about the sandstorms? I’ve never been anywhere that’s capable of forming them.”

"Mhm," Raju agrees, looking around for another piece of wood as he talks. "It's... closest to that one storm we had here, you remember, the one where we met. A good deal filthier, but the wind sounds like that. And you have to wait it out that way, too. I don't know why I liked listening to it so much when we were all trapped inside that Hall together, it always used to be damned boring. At least back then I could pass the time training but there's no equipment here, and it would have been rude to in front of all the women anyway, at least if I didn't want sweat all through my clothes. Is this a good size for the next one?"

He turns back toward Francis, holding up the next piece of wood he's hunted down. As much of a to-do as Raju had made about the mushrooms, it helps that Francis has already started here, so a lot of the materials are nearby already.

"Mn?" He glances over at the plank and nods; it'll do just fine.

"It's different here," he says, going back to the talk of storms. "The howl of the wind and the sounds of the ice hitting the trees, it's different. And the company's very different. The wait isn't filled with boredom, but anticipation."

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