singillatim | Being born again into the sweet morning fog

"Safer it may be, but it won't assuage my worries," he tells him plainly. He takes the tunic from him with a frown, holding it out to Raju as though he hadn't been pouring over the cloth for flaws. "This is precisely the reason you shouldn't be sleeping alone. One day you might set a fire and then not wake. You could burn a house down around you and perish inside of it."

It'd be a nightmare to lose him in that way. "They aren't constant, these fires. It seems rash to me to decide to isolate yourself forever for a maybe."

It's impossible not to see Francis' own determination shining through his reasoning. Determination not to let the fear of more horrors and losses stop him from doing what he can now. But it isn't fear that's driving Raju here, it's...

It's better. It's just a better idea, the distance. Which would hardly sound like a reason, to a man who needs to be convinced. Raju doesn't know how to explain it any better. He doesn't know how else to deal with that kind of concern for him, not outside saying that it won't be a concern, which he can't do. He doesn't have enough control over the threat to say that it won't be one, especially not while he's sleeping, and Francis already knows that.

His eyes move away from Francis' face. He sighs. His fingers start tapping quickly against his knee, then bump up against Francis' knee and go still.

"I may want to keep sleeping with you, but it isn't isolating myself to stop," he tries. It's the part he knows how to respond to. "You saw me almost every day before."

He feels almost embarrassed about Raju's conclusion to all of this. Is that really how his argument sounds? He's making excuses just because he fears being alone, or he's somehow gotten too comfortable with sleeping beside someone?

"I didn't think there was any harm. But there's no rush still to leave, please know that. Heal, then...then do as you please. I'm not going to push you away for fear of fire."

He quiets and looks down at the charred smear on the floor.

"You aren't pushing me away." Raju takes his hand, smiling briefly, then raises his eyebrows. "But you have to know you can't do this every morning."

Every few days, every morning, the exact number doesn't matter because Raju is more confident here on this particular point. He's spent too long waking up quietly not to be. Something that's become impossible, now.

"You've been very kind, dealing with..." The memory of the night that'd started all this flickers over Raju's face, and he decides not to go into detail about it. Francis knows what he means. "...everything, for me. And this morning too. But you shouldn't have to, not more than the once."

Raju squeezes the hand in his, his smile small and hopefully reassuring. "It's alright."

Crozier looks down at their hands, Raju’s strong and young still, his somewhat gnarled and frostbitten in places. His brow creases as he frowns thoughtfully, wholly unconvinced by Raju’s attempt to reassure him. It isn’t ‘alright’, it’s the very opposite of alright.

“Nothing good can come of suffering alone,” he reminds him. “I’m reaching out to you, I want to help. You’re my friend, Raju. The only way you’re going to learn to control this is being monitored and woken up when it gets out of control.”

Raju’s smile fades and then, as Francis admonishes him, changes, the expression of a man hearing something that he doesn’t want to. Letting go of Francis’ hand just now would seem too pointed in a way that Raju doesn’t want to but his grip does loosen a little as he leans back, looks up and around the cabin as a way to look away, takes a breath and huffs it out.

This should only have happened once. Francis should only have seen all of this once. Raju should be able to go and once the night has passed come back in better clothes, washed and trimmed and clean, and Francis would see that Raju has everything under control after all.

But that isn’t the way things are.

“You’re right. I’ve had plenty of chances to solve this already.” He says it to the wall and for a moment his free hand taps its knuckles in a loose, frustrated rhythm against his thigh. Then he sighs quietly, his posture deflating a little with it. “I’m sorry, Francis. You shouldn’t have to do this for me.”

A fleeting look of frustration crosses his face, followed by a sort of resigned sadness and vague annoyance. And he thought he was stubborn, he has nothing on Raju.

“You make it sound as though I’ve laid this burden in its entirety at your feet,” he says quietly. “The data is…inconsistent, yes, but it’s my belief that staying here with me has helped you. I don’t fear this, Raju.”

He doesn’t fear him, or his nightmares, or the past he’s trying to hide. He goes to squeeze his hand before he lets it go, but instead brings it to his face and holds it briefly against his cheek. “I wish you’d stay. If it happens again then you’ll hear no more fight from me.” He lets his hand go with a quiet, resigned sigh.

The gesture does for Raju’s frustration with himself what words hadn’t. The feeling is still there but it’s harder to feel just why it’s so important, not while there’s so little room for it next to the feeling in his chest. Some bright, wide open feeling that leaves his palm tingling with the sensation of Francis’ skin against it even after it drops.

Raju watches Francis sigh, his eyes wider. He watches his hand lift, trying to feed that urge to touch again, trying to think past that to what needs to happen next. One of those efforts is successful: Raju’s palm presses against the bare centre of Francis’ chest for one long second, then two, then slides over the muscle and scars to cup the back of Francis’ neck.

“If it did—“ He starts in a murmur, stops himself with a quiet, amused huff and a faint smile. “When it does happen again. You’ll be wanting me to stay then too, though. Won’t you?”

Ah. That’s right. He’s not currently wearing a shirt. Well, probably best to not dwell on that, or the way he feels like his heart’s about to vibrate its way right out of his chest. There are more important things than the brief touch to his sternum and then the jagged scars, the continued touch to his neck as Raju struggles to keep the smile off his face - so much more important, yes.

“Of course,” he replies, an easy smile on his face this time. “Of course I bloody would. I’ll just be better rested for the next time you feel like arguing with me.”

"I just—" Raju huffs again, looking down very briefly with a smile. He just should have been able to take care of the problem himself, especially with all the time he's had. But saying so would be arguing about arguing, and the matter feels like it's just settled.

He wants to touch more than he is. He raises his other hand too, settling it on Francis' other shoulder. It's nothing to the touch to Francis' face, of course, but that had been strange. Something only Seetha's done with him before.

Or maybe not so strange. It's only that he hasn't ever expected any man to ask him to stay in that same gentle, quiet way, touching because of resignation to what has to happen, because any words about it aren't enough. There's something strange about it, anyway. Raju doesn't know what. But he hadn't realised Francis felt that deeply about it.

"Will you?" he asks, smile faint and warm, gaze fascinated and steady. "Because I think you've just argued yourself into sleeping worse."

Raju’s gaze is perhaps too steady, and Crozier’s already feeling exposed for his frankly embarrassing reaction to all of this arguing and gentle begging. He can’t hold the eye contact longer than a moment or two and looks away with an abashed shake of his head.

“I wouldn’t suffer alone,” he tells him quietly. “That’s all that would matter.” That neither him nor Raju would be alone.

The fascination on Raju’s face changes into understanding and sympathy. Now it makes more sense. Of course he doesn’t want to be alone.

Raju remembers Seetha on the shore, small and distant. He thinks of the image that always comes into his mind when he thinks of the things that Francis told him, only him after everything: he always imagines laying over ground that’s dusty and hot even as it’s frozen and cold, surrounded with houses and trees even as it’s some remote glacier that’s barren of anything. Surrounded by nothing that’s ever going to answer back.

But Seetha had more than she thought she did. There’d been half a pendant and her upraised fist, of course there had been that, but she’d had a crowd behind her too, full of people who’d known them both for their entire lives. She’d had them. She still has them. And Francis, here, has people too.

Francis has more years on his face and more knowledge than Raju on more topics than Raju can name, and in another life maybe that would put him above reassurance from a younger man. But the way that Francis is looking away, vulnerable and letting Raju see it, that puts them on equal ground. It would hurt Francis to be alone, and Raju can help.

“You’d have your men. Even if I did leave. You wouldn’t be alone.” His smile aims at reassurance again and he tightens the grip of both his hands, leaning forward and looking into Francis’ eyes. “I’m not trying to argue you out of keeping me here. Not any more. But you’ll still have someone even once you do decide you want your nights back. Alright?”

Crozier tries very desperately not to mistake Raju’s sympathy for pity. It wouldn’t be fair to his friend, who wouldn’t do such a thing even in the face of such a pathetic display.

He leans back as Raju leans forward, automatic but hopefully not too obvious a wince, and attempts a very casual smile as he reaches for his slightly-charred tunic.

“My men don’t need their captain hanging about,” he explains lightly. “It’s an isolated position by design, one meant to be separate. They don’t need to humor me, they need to live their lives. No, I’ll…it’s all fine, mn?”

No need to keep reassuring him, he’ll find the company when Raju is more in control and decides to leave.

For a moment, Raju studies him.

It's easy to understand people, the way that they work. The things that he needs to understand, anyway. How to read this unspoken signal or that one, the right way to hold himself and speak, the right way to make the right person smile, or stare, or ask when they can see him again. But a man so hurt by suffering alone that he acts this way and speaks this way, then keeping himself apart from his own people on purpose—

This, at least, can't mirror Raju's own circumstances that much. Raju'd had to. And the letters, the way he'd stopped writing, later— Well. It can't be the same, for Francis.

He relents, at least for now, and leans back. It'll be a problem that he'll only learn how to solve later, the problem of what will happen to the man who's been so kind and steadfast and brave once Raju makes it home.

But not just now. Raju will have to wait and watch. For now he lets his grip go loose over Francis' skin in case Francis wants to keep moving away.

"Well," he says, his confident tone, casual smile, and air of faint amusement hopefully reassuring Francis that they're moving back toward the safer waters of casual conversation as, between leaning away from him and avoiding the ending of his own sentence, Francis probably wants to, "at least I'll be making sure you wake up in the morning. Not as restful as a rooster crowing in your ear but it did the job, didn't it?"

Crozier separates himself long enough to pull his tunic on back over his head, mussing up his hair as he tugs the sealskin back over his scar-riddled chest. He certainly feels less openly susceptible to scrutiny this way, hiding away all those ugly sides of himself even if Raju already knows his sad story.

“Christ, it’s been years since I’ve seen a chicken,” he mutters. He’s trying, lord how he’s trying. “What noise does a rooster make again? Does it honk?”

He moves away from Raju to tend to the controlled fire in the hearth. He’ll go out later to check his traps and maybe find someone to trade some fish or dry goods for — Raju would like a little rice, he’s sure of it.

Raju doesn’t stop watching as Francis pulls the shirt over his head, hiding his face then and afterward, when he turns toward the fire. Unless he’s gone outside of it, Francis is always the most interesting part of his cabin. But Raju tries to look more casual about it in the moments before he looks away to think.

Francis needs him, needs Raju here in a way he won’t let the men who’d used to call him captain be, and that at least makes Raju’s own fear and frustration feel less important. But does it change anything?

It’s hard to tell. It’s always harder to figure things like that here, where there’s nothing that truly needs to be done that actually can. But Raju can still feel Francis’ cheek against his palm, and the idea of repaying everything the man’s done for Raju these last few nights — outside in the snow, inside with his shoulder underneath Raju’s cheek, with his thighs under Raju’s head, hand rinsing soap from Raju’s hair, offering his hand around Raju’s and bearing the tight grip until Raju fell asleep — by hurting him the way that leaving would might make Raju feel sick, if he thought about it for too long. He can feel it the moment that he tries, waking’s usual faint nausea trying to grow and take root.

Well, maybe he doesn’t need to leave anyway. Maybe there’s something he can do to make the nights and mornings safer for the man who refuses to leave Raju behind even when he should.

Raju’s foot jitters. He should have been preparing yesterday. He might have been able to do more even with Francis’ sharp eye keeping him mostly off his feet, if he hadn’t spent so much of the damned day sleeping. If the next aurora brings what the last one had, Francis will need him to have done at least something.

He leans forward to check his feet. At least healed enough to use, probably. They feel it. He’d expected them to look this way again by yesterday.

“How many buckets do you have? Or bowls, or pots? We should keep water just there, neither of us will have to move to get it if we’ve just woken up. If water will do any good. There’s got to be something. There were mixing bowls in that cabin I used to stay at if you don’t have enough buckets to leave one there, I could go and get it.”

Crozier enjoys a quite moment of prodding at the fire and not thinking about the way he'd felt when Raju held him by his shoulders and stared at him with such genuinely kind eyes. He doesn't know what on earth's gotten into him, why he's allowed himself to be so vulnerable after hiding himself away for so long.

He raises his head and takes a quick stock of his supplies. "Let's assume water will work to put out the fires. I've enough containers to hold a decent amount of meltwater, but it'd be better if we had an excess."

He stands quickly and goes to fetch his boots from where he's laid them out to dry, pulling them onto his feet and stomping down his heel to make up for the lack of a second hand. "How far is your cabin? If I head out now I can stop into town and make a trade for more buckets."

Raju makes a surprised noise and stands, glancing down at his feet — it feels strange standing on them after an entire day of not, but they feel alright — and then looking around for his things. Shoes there, and after washing the soot off his proper clothes and needing the room to sleep in front of the fire he'd put them over there to finish drying. But he hasn't washed the ones he's wearing now, but he needs to put the clean ones over them anyway because in this damn place he needs the layers—

"Give me a minute and I can show you. It isn't far. I just have to get everything..." He trails off, looking around as he starts toward the other clothes. That damn blanket is somewhere. "We should see what we can find in that cabin first. There must be other things worth trading for."

As soon as Raju hops to his feet all of Crozier’s focus is lost. He rushes to him, grasping his arms and looking down at his gait and the way he’s holding himself as he stands.

“What are you doing? Are you ready to be on your feet like this?”

Raju looks alarmed at Francis’ alarm and then confusion replaces it, and a placating smile makes room for itself alongside the confusion.

“Well, I’m not going to spend two days not even standing up,” he says, voice making it clear the idea’s a ridiculous one, setting a hand overtop Francis’ on him. “I feel fine. I’ll even put on shoes to go out this time. You don’t see anything to worry about, do you?”

It doesn’t even hurt enough that he can’t ignore it, walk normally, stand normally. Raju doesn’t know much about frostbite, but that’s always meant he’s close enough to healed for everything else.

He's seen plenty worth worrying over, but if Raju's going to insist that he can walk unaided then he decides he won't push back on this. He's lost most of his leverage and will to argue in the struggle to keep Raju in the cabin with him.

"No," he says, relenting with a soft sagging of his shoulders. He shakes his head. "No, no. If you insist you can walk, then I won't stop you. You'll tell me if we need to turn back though, yes?"

"Of course," he says easily, nodding, expression creasing up with his pleased smile. Now that he's going out to do something, at least get some kind of supplies, that wound-up feeling inside of him is more bearable.

He gives Francis' hand a squeeze and moves away, picking up his trousers and shaking them out, frowning at what he sees — what he'd do for a working iron, but at least Francis wouldn't have allowed him any ironing when he'd been off his feet yesterday so they would have looked like this anyway, not so wrinkled but not neat either — and stepping into them.

Shoving clothes overtop the ones he's already wearing is frustrating. He'd wear layers like this all the time if it wasn't so uncomfortable, it's always cold in this damned place even inside, even with a fire, but even as the warmth is a relief over his legs he's frowning and shoving at the layer underneath, trying to get it to fit under the trousers more evenly. Layering might be warmer, but it always makes everything feel so tight and crowded.

"I'll need more clothes too if I'm going to stay here," he says as he does it. That's something he hadn't really had when sleeping in the Community Hall, more than one or two sets of clothes. It'd been the one good thing about leaving there, having room for more of his own things again, once he'd managed to scavenge things that he could actually wear. "I've already worn these damn things and this stupid shirt too long. There were some in that cabin that fit. And my shaving and sewing kits, too. And my notebook. And anything else in the place that might be useful, there could be something good left in the kitchen. Do you have anything to put it all in to carry it back?"

Well, at least he seems to be moving around easily enough. He watches him for a beat or two as he fiddles with his clothes, quite possibly worrying about tears or unwanted creases or some such nonsense, knowing Raju. Turmoil on the outside needn’t show on the out — he’d get along well with Jopson.

It makes his heart give a little leap in his chest at the thought of moving Raju’s things into his cabin. It seems so permanent; he still can’t quite believe he’d coerced Raju into staying through sheer pity alone.

“There’s a pack in the back room. That should suffice.”

He rolls his shoulders out softly and reaches for his parka. “Your cabin first, then if you’re still feeling up to it we’ll head into town for supplies.”

Raju hums, acknowledging it, leaves the trousers unbuttoned to help tuck the shirt in while he puts it on over the inner one, reaches up the sleeves, tugs the inner sleeves back down. The outer shirt is bigger than he’d used to wear to account for the layering but he’s still a little bit annoyed at how smooth the process isn’t, and eager to get going.

Once all that’s done and all tugged as straight and neat as he’s going to be able to get it he goes into the back room and glances into the pack there.

“Do you think one of those furs will be warm enough to get me, um… I don’t know, ten minutes that way?” he asks, walking toward Francis again. “That damn blanket I’ve been wearing is still inside there, too. Even if it isn’t I’m sure I could manage it at a run…”

He trails off, gaze distant and fingers running back and forth over the bag absently as he thinks over it. The problem of this kind of cold and what it needs and how far he can push against it is something he hasn’t figured out quite yet. Francis will know.

He probably shouldn’t stare as Raju puts all his various layers on - it’s a little backwards, not the usual reason a person might watch another person, but he does allow himself a curious glance or two.

“Wear my parka,” he offers, holding it out to him. His tunic works just fine for his purposes. It’s getting warmer out, after all, just about balmy compared to what he’s used to. He imagines Raju is freezing on a daily basis, and will continue to do so until the height of summer.

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