Either way, we're not alone

[gildedlife]

Who: James Fitzjames, OTA
What: Exploring, and also finding some friends (early Sept catchall)
When: First few days after arriving
Where: Around Milton!

Content Warnings: The Terror-typical themes of death, illness, and general Bad Times, but anything specific will be added as it comes up!


For the first two days or so, James doesn't really leave the house he's taken up (temporary?) shelter in. Instead, he spends most of the time sleeping, occasionally waking up to make some rosehip tea and wage the mental battle necessary to drink it, then falling back asleep and repeating the cycle.

But although any sort of true recovery will take far longer than a few days, by the third day of being in this new place he feels much better than he had when he'd arrived, and even if that was an incredibly low bar to clear it's still more than enough to be encouraging. This isn't some sort of strange dream or dying hallucination. He's really here, somehow, and--for once in so many months now--he's getting better, not worse.

He might actually live. But this time, unlike his many other close brushes with death, he finds he isn't entirely sure what to do with the knowledge of that possibility.

He also has zero desire to contemplate that fact or any of its implications, but unfortunately, the downside of feeling better is that he's now capable of overthinking things again. And the only way to avoid doing that is through distraction, so it's only reasonable that he decides to go exploring.

Comments

[fidior]

The response makes him pause. Any other man might feel warmth immediately at the thought of this sort of praise coming from whomever might have informed the commander of such a thing, but Edward is riddled with worries even on his best days, and there's a kneejerk flutter of discomfort. Maybe it's more his own sense of guilt. Of shame.

He doesn't think he's done well at all with it. He's... barely held on, weak and lacking with assisting the young woman who has been through... so many horrors of her own. And not long ago, he killed a man in front of Kate's eyes; Mikel haunts his dreams the same way Jopson still does sometimes, face bloodless, eyes dying, mouth giving a hoarse rasp of pain—

"You.... have, sir?"

He tries to make it sound casual, but "casual" is not Edward Little's forté, and maybe the widening of his eyes and the slightly-stricken look might betray that he's oddly jarred by the thought.

[gildedlife]

"Yes." James says it with certainty, wanting to leave no question there, though he keeps his voice soft. Not for the first time he wishes he had done a better job of bolstering Edward's confidence, so that his reaction to praise might not be so hesitant and uncertain, though James is also aware that in this particular instance it might have to do with the specific topic. So he doesn't press it directly, instead sidestepping the subject a little to instead approach from a different angle.

"Is it that difficult to believe?" He asks it lightly, almost teasingly, though of course that's affected; the answer is obvious enough, but the point is more how Edward answers.

[fidior]

Little pauses, hesitating for a moment. It's likely only a matter of time before Fitzjames learns... what he's done (and there's so much; not only in this place, but during the Expedition before... things that the men still don't know about him. About what he'd done). It would be best to speak to him about it first, but he doesn't want to overwhelm the poor man, he's only just arrived here, and he's likely confused by so much — then, of course, is the matter of the commander's own death.

Still, he's inclined towards answering honestly, even if not so honest as to burden him too much right now.

"Admittedly," he starts there, and attempts a little smile of his own, to lighten his responses. He doesn't mean to make everything seem so heavy...

"It pains me to say, but I've not been the most... capable, in this place. I fear I've made some poor decisions, and— I suppose I never was the strongest man, was I?"

His smile becomes a bit of a wince, self-deprecation so natural to fall to, but it's true. Retrospect has been... eye-opening; he can see, looking back, all the ways in which he lacked. "I would not expect others to speak too favourably of my performance here, is all. There are others far more suited to such an environment, and they have done incredible things for this community."

[gildedlife]

James is definitely confused, and more than slightly overwhelmed by all of this, but he's handling that as he usually does: pretending he's neither of those things. That's made easier when he's with one of the others of the expedition, able to fall into familiar patterns, at least to some extent.

Discussing concerns with Edward is one of those familiar patterns--they'd conferred often enough while Francis had been deteriorating, and then even more so while he'd been drying out--but what's unfamiliar is that Edward is so forthcoming. Normally, at least from James' viewpoint, he feels he has to practically pry honest thoughts and feelings out of Edward, so it's a nice surprise to get an honest answer. Even if it's a less than positive one.

It takes James a moment to gather his thoughts, as although he's feeling quite a bit better than the day he arrived, he's still more than a little scattered and exhausted and he absolutely does not want to say the wrong thing and discourage Edward further here.

"Perhaps not everyone else is judging your decisions as harshly as you are." James finally responds, offering a small, hopefully encouraging smile. "Myself included, as I certainly wouldn't characterize you in the manner you describe yourself."

[fidior]

Despite everything that's tugging so heavily downwards within him, seeing that little smile from Fitzjames does, once more, help. That flicker of encouragement, a glowing thing that Edward might find himself so drawn to. For a moment, it's as if they're back before it all went... bad, back in the days when their uniforms were still polished and crisp, when they'd all gather for officer's meetings — a time to sit together and chat. The expedition was new, hopeful. Everything was.

Fitzjames was always a wonder to see, to listen to. Charismatic and charming and affable; any man could feel almost as though he were a better version of himself, simply to be in the commander's presence. Edward hasn't forgotten those days, even if it's been a very long time since he sat and chatted with him without the pressing weight of what so quickly went wrong.

But even now, being told from Fitzjames that he wouldn't describe him that way — as inept, lacking — means something to Little, specifically. He dips his head for a moment almost as though to hide it, that glimpse of warmth in him at the words, shy but pleased.

"You have always been kind to me, Sir. Kind to all of the men." He replies after a moment, finally looking back up. "Truly, I don't deserve that kindness, but— I wish to return it. Please, make yourself comfortable here. Shall I bring you that coffee now? Or tea?"

[gildedlife]

That's a little better; the bit of shyness, but in a positive way, is about the best he could've really asked for. And it's only at this moment, belatedly, that James realizes he's been mirroring the conversation--an incredibly important conversation--that he'd had with Francis on the way back from Victory Point. It isn't exactly the same, of course, but he distinctly remembers just how important it had been to him that Francis had refused to accept James' self-deprecation, arguing that he didn't see James the way James often saw himself. It's strange, but not necessarily in a bad way, to be on the other side, to see Edward being so hard on himself and to easily, truthfully, find it unwarranted.

And of course it's also a reassurance to James in return to hear the compliment; his leadership style had always been more mild than most of those he'd served under or alongside, as he vastly prefers to earn the loyalty of his crew by being respected and liked, rather than through intimidation and fear. But of course there's always a divide there, and it isn't always clear what the men actually think about their superior officers, so the affirmation is appreciated.

He lets Edward's comment about not deserving kindness pass without arguing, not because he agrees--far from it--but because he thinks the sentiment will come across in his response. "Well, I can't refuse, particularly if you have coffee." He hasn't had coffee in so long and hadn't even considered the possibility it might be available here, and it's funny how such a small thing can be such an uplifting thought.