Lt. George Henry Hodgson

2nd lieutenant on HMS Terror, opium war veteran and clavier enthusiast :) || (rp blog, just for fun, mod is 18+, asks are open!)

[franciscrozierofficial]

@ltgeorgehodgson. On deck. Now. We're moving out.

*Crozier has lashed several armfuls of medical supplies to his back in a makeshift sack, and hefts one sledge himself, the strap over his shoulder, while ABs James "Jim" Filler and Samuel Plotte are adjusting their straps two other sledges. They're small, just made for one man each. Crozier is hoping they'll be enough*

*With Goodsir's disappearance, he's in a rotten mood, any excitement he felt at his own wedding plans quickly snuffed out by the prospect of more blood on his hands.*

*He glares moodily up at the railing, as if by sheer force of will he can make Hodgson appear.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

hodgson appears a few minutes later, clearly weary on his feet but he stands up straight when he sees his captain, ignoring the dead leaden weight in his limbs, the ache that permeates his entire body. he still has a job to do.

here, sir. are we all prepared to go?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier nods, sharply, and hands Hodgson the second strap to his sledge so that they might pull together. It's weighed down only with essentials— blankets, emergency food, water... It'll be heavier on the way back, if they find anyone hurt.*

Ready, Lieutenant.

*He starts to walk and whistles sharp through his teeth at the ABs, who begin plodding ahead, following the officers' lead. Though his scarf and muffler are pulled tight around his face, Crozier still lowers his voice to speak to the lieutenant.*

.....Mr. Goodsir has abandoned ship. Went off after the mutineers himself, likely. Fuckin' eejit. ...If we're lucky, we'll find him 'fore he turns blue and his bits start fallin' off.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, though the words take a minute to register as he's focusing more on trying to stay upright and pulling the sledge.

ah... yes, I'm sure... sure we'll find him, hopefully... do you know who's out here? did john- um, lieutenant irving come back? and mr des voeux?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier glances sideways at Hodgson. He's still leery to treat the man with too much kindness— after the lashing Crozier considered Hodgson forgiven for the business with his bed, but.... he's gathered that the wreckage of Dundy's emotional state since then is owed to one Lieutenant George Hodgson. He feels both strangely protective of Dundy and bitter towards Hodgson, though he's doing his best to put it all behind him and focus on the mission.*

*After a minute, Crozier grunts.*

No, no one's come back yet.

Irving, Des Voeux, Gore, and Sergeant Tozer are all out there. Some other men too. Goodsir.

*He pauses, as though he's about to say something else. He darts his eyes over at Hodgson. He thinks better of it, and continues trudging ahead in silence.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george is feeling the awkward tension between them too. he's all too aware that their interactions since the lashing have been very limited... surely the captain has not truly forgiven what he did. perhaps he doesn't deserve that forgiveness. but he tries to push it aside and focus on being a lieutenant right now, not whatever personal business has gone on. he nods.

do we... know who was involved in the mutiny? surely not any officers?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier lets out a heavy sigh, exasperated. More with the reality that he doesn’t know the question’s answer than the question itself— he knows he should soften his tone, he knows he shouldn’t take out his frustrations on one of his few standing lieutenants, but—*

For Christsake, George, we still don’t know shit. Hell, one of them could have lead it for all we know.

*For a second, the snow falls silently around them, and the only sound is crunching footfalls on the ice. Then Crozier sighs again.*

…but I don’t think that’s the case. I think Mr. Tozer was leading the mutineers— I sent him a message that we come in peace, so that they don’t shoot our brains out on sight.

We still don’t know who’s mutinied of their own free will yet. besides Goodsir.

We don’t know much of anything, out here.

[jamesthefiller]

(sniff)

(well thas not very good.) @ltgeorgehodgson @franciscrozierofficial don’t worry sir! I’m sure the lads won’t fire on us. We’re bringing em med treatment after all- any port in a storm, eh?

(cough) uh.. lieutenant, do you want,… should me and Sam take some of the weight off that there sledge for you? ( lookin rather peeky there..)

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george almost flinches slightly at crozier's harsh tone, but doesn't say anything. of course, he's not sure why he expected the captain to know anymore than him. he just feels terribly left out of everything, since he's been on the ship the entire time this apparent mutiny has been taking place - all he knows is there was gunfire and an explosion.

he turns when mr filler speaks to him, his brow furrowing slightly.

hm? no, no need, mr filler, I'm quite able to manage, thank you.

in all honestly, he wouldn't mind being relieved for a short while, but he doesn't want to appear weak to these men - what they all need now are strong, reliant leaders, to prevent this mutiny fever from spreading. so he trudges on, keeping his eyes fixed resolutely ahead.

[franciscrozierofficial]

@ltgeorgehodgson. On deck. Now. We're moving out.

*Crozier has lashed several armfuls of medical supplies to his back in a makeshift sack, and hefts one sledge himself, the strap over his shoulder, while ABs James "Jim" Filler and Samuel Plotte are adjusting their straps two other sledges. They're small, just made for one man each. Crozier is hoping they'll be enough*

*With Goodsir's disappearance, he's in a rotten mood, any excitement he felt at his own wedding plans quickly snuffed out by the prospect of more blood on his hands.*

*He glares moodily up at the railing, as if by sheer force of will he can make Hodgson appear.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

hodgson appears a few minutes later, clearly weary on his feet but he stands up straight when he sees his captain, ignoring the dead leaden weight in his limbs, the ache that permeates his entire body. he still has a job to do.

here, sir. are we all prepared to go?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier nods, sharply, and hands Hodgson the second strap to his sledge so that they might pull together. It's weighed down only with essentials— blankets, emergency food, water... It'll be heavier on the way back, if they find anyone hurt.*

Ready, Lieutenant.

*He starts to walk and whistles sharp through his teeth at the ABs, who begin plodding ahead, following the officers' lead. Though his scarf and muffler are pulled tight around his face, Crozier still lowers his voice to speak to the lieutenant.*

.....Mr. Goodsir has abandoned ship. Went off after the mutineers himself, likely. Fuckin' eejit. ...If we're lucky, we'll find him 'fore he turns blue and his bits start fallin' off.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, though the words take a minute to register as he's focusing more on trying to stay upright and pulling the sledge.

ah... yes, I'm sure... sure we'll find him, hopefully... do you know who's out here? did john- um, lieutenant irving come back? and mr des voeux?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier glances sideways at Hodgson. He's still leery to treat the man with too much kindness— after the lashing Crozier considered Hodgson forgiven for the business with his bed, but.... he's gathered that the wreckage of Dundy's emotional state since then is owed to one Lieutenant George Hodgson. He feels both strangely protective of Dundy and bitter towards Hodgson, though he's doing his best to put it all behind him and focus on the mission.*

*After a minute, Crozier grunts.*

No, no one's come back yet.

Irving, Des Voeux, Gore, and Sergeant Tozer are all out there. Some other men too. Goodsir.

*He pauses, as though he's about to say something else. He darts his eyes over at Hodgson. He thinks better of it, and continues trudging ahead in silence.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george is feeling the awkward tension between them too. he's all too aware that their interactions since the lashing have been very limited... surely the captain has not truly forgiven what he did. perhaps he doesn't deserve that forgiveness. but he tries to push it aside and focus on being a lieutenant right now, not whatever personal business has gone on. he nods.

do we... know who was involved in the mutiny? surely not any officers?

[franciscrozierofficial]

@ltgeorgehodgson. On deck. Now. We're moving out.

*Crozier has lashed several armfuls of medical supplies to his back in a makeshift sack, and hefts one sledge himself, the strap over his shoulder, while ABs James "Jim" Filler and Samuel Plotte are adjusting their straps two other sledges. They're small, just made for one man each. Crozier is hoping they'll be enough*

*With Goodsir's disappearance, he's in a rotten mood, any excitement he felt at his own wedding plans quickly snuffed out by the prospect of more blood on his hands.*

*He glares moodily up at the railing, as if by sheer force of will he can make Hodgson appear.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

hodgson appears a few minutes later, clearly weary on his feet but he stands up straight when he sees his captain, ignoring the dead leaden weight in his limbs, the ache that permeates his entire body. he still has a job to do.

here, sir. are we all prepared to go?

[franciscrozierofficial]

*Crozier nods, sharply, and hands Hodgson the second strap to his sledge so that they might pull together. It's weighed down only with essentials— blankets, emergency food, water... It'll be heavier on the way back, if they find anyone hurt.*

Ready, Lieutenant.

*He starts to walk and whistles sharp through his teeth at the ABs, who begin plodding ahead, following the officers' lead. Though his scarf and muffler are pulled tight around his face, Crozier still lowers his voice to speak to the lieutenant.*

.....Mr. Goodsir has abandoned ship. Went off after the mutineers himself, likely. Fuckin' eejit. ...If we're lucky, we'll find him 'fore he turns blue and his bits start fallin' off.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, though the words take a minute to register as he's focusing more on trying to stay upright and pulling the sledge.

ah... yes, I'm sure... sure we'll find him, hopefully... do you know who's out here? did john- um, lieutenant irving come back? and mr des voeux?

[franciscrozierofficial]

@ltgeorgehodgson. On deck. Now. We're moving out.

*Crozier has lashed several armfuls of medical supplies to his back in a makeshift sack, and hefts one sledge himself, the strap over his shoulder, while ABs James "Jim" Filler and Samuel Plotte are adjusting their straps two other sledges. They're small, just made for one man each. Crozier is hoping they'll be enough*

*With Goodsir's disappearance, he's in a rotten mood, any excitement he felt at his own wedding plans quickly snuffed out by the prospect of more blood on his hands.*

*He glares moodily up at the railing, as if by sheer force of will he can make Hodgson appear.*

[ltgeorgehodgson]

hodgson appears a few minutes later, clearly weary on his feet but he stands up straight when he sees his captain, ignoring the dead leaden weight in his limbs, the ache that permeates his entire body. he still has a job to do.

here, sir. are we all prepared to go?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

Hodgson.

Prepare to leave within the hour. You, me, Dr. Goodsir and two additional sailors will be trekking WNW after the mutineers. Bring your gun. Dress warm.

Meet me on deck when you can.

—Crozier

george lifts his head when his device pings - he's been holding dundy whilst the surgeon works on him, cradling his head and murmuring reassurances, hoping they reach him. he gently moves away and reads the message from the captain. every part of him is exhausted and aching, screaming for rest, and the thought of leaving dundy is almost unbearable, but it is a direct order and so he knows he must do it. besides - there are other men he cares about potentially out there on the ice in need of help. john, charlie... they need him too. he quickly replies to the captain-

right away, sir. I'll be up in a moment.

- before whispering to dundy that he'll be back soon. he nods to the doctor, assured that dundy will be in the best hands without him, then goes to fetch his slops and gun.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

>dundy's fast asleep, wandering in his dreams, tracking those 9 men on the ice, wandering further even, to home, to his sisters who are worried for him, to his mother who sits in her parlor, still in her black gown and her veil, wondering what she did to deserve losing the only other man in her life. dundy doesn't get a chance to talk to her, george is shifting awake next to him, muttering something—'i'll be back soon, don't you worry a thing, get your rest'—and dundy blinks awake, takes him by the hand, squeezing it as he looks up at him. the words come out of him true and unfiltered, whispered, sweet. he pushes his face against george's hand, watching him

c-come back alive so we... so we can get married and f-forget this-this blasted wasteland o-once and for all, alright? >a smile and... and keep... keep urself n francis safe n... n bring our boys home >he kisses his hand, then lets go i... i do love you, george. remember that

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george looks down in slight surprise when dundy stirs again, but smiles softly at him, stroking his face gently.

i love you too, dundy. don't you fear - it'll take far more than a bear and a few mutinying crewmen to keep me from your side. i'll be back before you know it. i cannot wait until i can call myself your husband.

he lifts dundy's hand and kisses it before getting ready to leave.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

Hodgson.

Prepare to leave within the hour. You, me, Dr. Goodsir and two additional sailors will be trekking WNW after the mutineers. Bring your gun. Dress warm.

Meet me on deck when you can.

—Crozier

george lifts his head when his device pings - he's been holding dundy whilst the surgeon works on him, cradling his head and murmuring reassurances, hoping they reach him. he gently moves away and reads the message from the captain. every part of him is exhausted and aching, screaming for rest, and the thought of leaving dundy is almost unbearable, but it is a direct order and so he knows he must do it. besides - there are other men he cares about potentially out there on the ice in need of help. john, charlie... they need him too. he quickly replies to the captain-

right away, sir. I'll be up in a moment.

- before whispering to dundy that he'll be back soon. he nods to the doctor, assured that dundy will be in the best hands without him, then goes to fetch his slops and gun.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has been watching their conversation anxiously, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. he isn't sure what to do - wait for orders from the captain, is what he WILL do, regardless - but he thinks he agrees with edward, that they're better off staying on the ships. the thought of the mutineers out there - and that he hasn't heard anything of charlie or john - make his stomach lurch with fear, but sending more men out onto the ice seems foolish unless they have a proper plan in place for bringing the mutineers back.

when dundy stands, george half-tries to reach for him, keep him down, but dundy is too quick - and then he's falling to the floor.

when edward catches him, george rises too, leans over and helps him to lower dundy back to the bed, trying to be gentle. there's blood seeping through his shirt again already and george looks around anxiously for a surgeon.

it- it's quite alright, edward, henry is- oh, you know how stubborn he can be, never knows what's good for him... do you know where the surgeons are? he needs these stitches looked at...

[nedlittlest]

No, I don't know.

Ned realizes how it sounds as he says it, and winces. It feels like this is the first full conversation with Lieutenant Le Vesconte that he has had in years on the same expedition, and he has to bite down a bitter feeling at the familiarity which George assumes he has with the man.

I'm sorry, but I - I can go see if the surgeons are done with Lieutenant Fairholme?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, carefully arranging dundy into a better position on the bed.

yes, thank you edward.

he gives edward a tight smile that he hopes both conveys his gratitude and offers some reassurance that he's sure they all need right now.

[nedlittlest]

Shame rises in Ned at George’s tight smile. It is more than he deserves, and he can tell that he has clearly hurt his fellow Lieutenant. He nods, and shuffles his way out of the room to where the surgeons work on Lieutenant Fairholme. Things seemed to have slowed down some, so when Edward tells them that Lt. Le Vesconte has injured himself, Doctor Peddie follows. He’d known peddie briefly, and they do not talk as they walk back to where George and Le Vesconte wait for them. It was only a month, but Ned had not been at his best, and he struggles knowing Peddie more than likely recalls it. The sight of him only deepens the bubbling feeling of shame in Ned.

He knocks lightly on the doorframe before entering back in.

I’ve brought Doctor Peddie. How is he?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has dundy lying in a better position now, but there are clear patches of blood on his shirt and the sheets where his wounds have opened up again after his fall.

he's still out cold. I think his stitches need looking at... but it doesn't seem too bad. he'll need cleaning up a little.

he's tired, truly truly tired. he doesn't remember when he last actually rested - this past day or two has felt like months - and seeing dundy hurt like this is only making it worse. but he'll stay here, he knows, by his side for as long as he is able to.

[nedlittlest]

Ned steps to the side, lets Peddie get at his patient. He hovers at the doorway for a moment, and gives George a brief look. He wants to smile back but he just… doesn’t.

I’ll let you be.

Edward moves to go, sparing one last look at room’s occupants. He’s done enough.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george watches edward leave, worry furrowing his brow. he tells himself that edward is probably just in a similar position to himself - exhausted, stressed, worried about the fate of the men on the ice - and turns his focus back to dundy and dr peddie. there isn't much he can do now except to stay by dundy's side and await instruction from the captain.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has been watching their conversation anxiously, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. he isn't sure what to do - wait for orders from the captain, is what he WILL do, regardless - but he thinks he agrees with edward, that they're better off staying on the ships. the thought of the mutineers out there - and that he hasn't heard anything of charlie or john - make his stomach lurch with fear, but sending more men out onto the ice seems foolish unless they have a proper plan in place for bringing the mutineers back.

when dundy stands, george half-tries to reach for him, keep him down, but dundy is too quick - and then he's falling to the floor.

when edward catches him, george rises too, leans over and helps him to lower dundy back to the bed, trying to be gentle. there's blood seeping through his shirt again already and george looks around anxiously for a surgeon.

it- it's quite alright, edward, henry is- oh, you know how stubborn he can be, never knows what's good for him... do you know where the surgeons are? he needs these stitches looked at...

[nedlittlest]

No, I don't know.

Ned realizes how it sounds as he says it, and winces. It feels like this is the first full conversation with Lieutenant Le Vesconte that he has had in years on the same expedition, and he has to bite down a bitter feeling at the familiarity which George assumes he has with the man.

I'm sorry, but I - I can go see if the surgeons are done with Lieutenant Fairholme?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, carefully arranging dundy into a better position on the bed.

yes, thank you edward.

he gives edward a tight smile that he hopes both conveys his gratitude and offers some reassurance that he's sure they all need right now.

[nedlittlest]

Shame rises in Ned at George’s tight smile. It is more than he deserves, and he can tell that he has clearly hurt his fellow Lieutenant. He nods, and shuffles his way out of the room to where the surgeons work on Lieutenant Fairholme. Things seemed to have slowed down some, so when Edward tells them that Lt. Le Vesconte has injured himself, Doctor Peddie follows. He’d known peddie briefly, and they do not talk as they walk back to where George and Le Vesconte wait for them. It was only a month, but Ned had not been at his best, and he struggles knowing Peddie more than likely recalls it. The sight of him only deepens the bubbling feeling of shame in Ned.

He knocks lightly on the doorframe before entering back in.

I’ve brought Doctor Peddie. How is he?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has dundy lying in a better position now, but there are clear patches of blood on his shirt and the sheets where his wounds have opened up again after his fall.

he's still out cold. I think his stitches need looking at... but it doesn't seem too bad. he'll need cleaning up a little.

he's tired, truly truly tired. he doesn't remember when he last actually rested - this past day or two has felt like months - and seeing dundy hurt like this is only making it worse. but he'll stay here, he knows, by his side for as long as he is able to.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has been watching their conversation anxiously, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. he isn't sure what to do - wait for orders from the captain, is what he WILL do, regardless - but he thinks he agrees with edward, that they're better off staying on the ships. the thought of the mutineers out there - and that he hasn't heard anything of charlie or john - make his stomach lurch with fear, but sending more men out onto the ice seems foolish unless they have a proper plan in place for bringing the mutineers back.

when dundy stands, george half-tries to reach for him, keep him down, but dundy is too quick - and then he's falling to the floor.

when edward catches him, george rises too, leans over and helps him to lower dundy back to the bed, trying to be gentle. there's blood seeping through his shirt again already and george looks around anxiously for a surgeon.

it- it's quite alright, edward, henry is- oh, you know how stubborn he can be, never knows what's good for him... do you know where the surgeons are? he needs these stitches looked at...

[nedlittlest]

No, I don't know.

Ned realizes how it sounds as he says it, and winces. It feels like this is the first full conversation with Lieutenant Le Vesconte that he has had in years on the same expedition, and he has to bite down a bitter feeling at the familiarity which George assumes he has with the man.

I'm sorry, but I - I can go see if the surgeons are done with Lieutenant Fairholme?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george nods, carefully arranging dundy into a better position on the bed.

yes, thank you edward.

he gives edward a tight smile that he hopes both conveys his gratitude and offers some reassurance that he's sure they all need right now.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

Big dizzy dear, oh what a shock

When you lover bleeds out on a rock

Tossed between many

Passed like a penny

George is gagging for love and for cock

???? who is responsible for this ????

I know that these dirty, er, limericks are a pastime for sailors but it is extremely inappropriate to put such things in an officer's letterbox...!

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george has been watching their conversation anxiously, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. he isn't sure what to do - wait for orders from the captain, is what he WILL do, regardless - but he thinks he agrees with edward, that they're better off staying on the ships. the thought of the mutineers out there - and that he hasn't heard anything of charlie or john - make his stomach lurch with fear, but sending more men out onto the ice seems foolish unless they have a proper plan in place for bringing the mutineers back.

when dundy stands, george half-tries to reach for him, keep him down, but dundy is too quick - and then he's falling to the floor.

when edward catches him, george rises too, leans over and helps him to lower dundy back to the bed, trying to be gentle. there's blood seeping through his shirt again already and george looks around anxiously for a surgeon.

it- it's quite alright, edward, henry is- oh, you know how stubborn he can be, never knows what's good for him... do you know where the surgeons are? he needs these stitches looked at...

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george starts slightly when ned enters the room, almost feeling guilty for a moment - he isn't sure if ned knows about how close he's gotten to dundy or how he'll respond to it - but it would take a lot more than that to take him from dundy's side right now. he doesn't look at ned as he answers, looking down at dundy's face instead.

i... i don't think he's entirely conscious or aware of himself right now. but he's patched up and he's alive. what happened up there? did you tangle with that creature again?

[nedlittlest]

Ned nods, then realizes that George isn't looking at him with a flush of embarrassment.

Good—

He is glad that Lieutenant Le Vesconte lived, he had seemed to fragile out on the ice, and Ned had worried. He wants to leave, feeling more than a little like an intruder, off-balance, trying quite literally not to sway on his feet. George shouldn't have to deal with him right now, not when he's got his—Ned struggles for a word. He's got Lieutenant Le Vesconte to worry about. Ned’s back and ribs throb with pain, and he resolutely ignores how it lances through him like a knife with every breath. He will go to the surgeons later, when he is not the only lieutenant on his feet. George is attending to Le Vesconte, and Bed will not drag him away selfishly, and Faireholme—

Lieutenant Fairholme… is being treated.

He tries to smile, but even without a mirror, he can tell it is a grimace.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george's brow furrows with concern and he sits up slightly.

lieutenant fairholme was injured? is it serious?

he notices the way that edward grimaces too, the way he's unsteady on his feet.

and are you alright, edward? you ought to see a surgeon, if things are resolved up on deck now...

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

>dundy shifts, the pain sloughs off him in waves, but he pushes through it, needing to look this lieutenant in the eyes—or at least try to; everything is so hazy, and his delirium is not passing

>pretty dark eyes, dundy thinks when he finally settles, locking eyes with mr. little, and all that dull glow of little's soul around him, like it's tucked away, like his entire self is shadowing it

>dundy feels his shoulder press against georgie's chest, warmth shuddering through him. fairholme, he thinks, and he thinks of his dream, but he can't grasp it, it's faded. he grasps for his english; it's like pulling a man-of-war's anchor from mud

edward... w-what of walter...

>dundy's all too aware of the unsavory accent slipping through, all too aware this is first lieutenant little, all too aware of mr. little's seniority, all too aware he needs to not be this dirty and filthy and irish in front of a man of high command standing... but the pain won't let him, and so he winces as he hears the words slip out of him, tinged and colored by a country so entirely unenglish

[nedlittlest]

Ned pictures Fairholme as he last saw him, with the doctors bustling about with catgut and needle, and he does not wish to worry them, but he cannot lie to them either.

The creature got in a lucky strike, but last I saw him he was with the surgeons, and their spirits seemed high. It looked bad, but from what I heard, survivable.

Ned runs a hand through his hair, and sighs.

What a night.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george absently keeps stroking dundy's hair, wanting to keep him close, safe, protected. he feels a flutter of protectiveness when he hears the irish slipping through in his accent, knowing how vulnerable dundy must be right now to let that happen.

I'm sure he's in good hands with the surgeons. are you injured, edward? you ought to rest either way. and how's the captain...?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george starts slightly when ned enters the room, almost feeling guilty for a moment - he isn't sure if ned knows about how close he's gotten to dundy or how he'll respond to it - but it would take a lot more than that to take him from dundy's side right now. he doesn't look at ned as he answers, looking down at dundy's face instead.

i... i don't think he's entirely conscious or aware of himself right now. but he's patched up and he's alive. what happened up there? did you tangle with that creature again?

[nedlittlest]

Ned nods, then realizes that George isn't looking at him with a flush of embarrassment.

Good—

He is glad that Lieutenant Le Vesconte lived, he had seemed to fragile out on the ice, and Ned had worried. He wants to leave, feeling more than a little like an intruder, off-balance, trying quite literally not to sway on his feet. George shouldn't have to deal with him right now, not when he's got his—Ned struggles for a word. He's got Lieutenant Le Vesconte to worry about. Ned’s back and ribs throb with pain, and he resolutely ignores how it lances through him like a knife with every breath. He will go to the surgeons later, when he is not the only lieutenant on his feet. George is attending to Le Vesconte, and Bed will not drag him away selfishly, and Faireholme—

Lieutenant Fairholme… is being treated.

He tries to smile, but even without a mirror, he can tell it is a grimace.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george's brow furrows with concern and he sits up slightly.

lieutenant fairholme was injured? is it serious?

he notices the way that edward grimaces too, the way he's unsteady on his feet.

and are you alright, edward? you ought to see a surgeon, if things are resolved up on deck now...

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george starts slightly when ned enters the room, almost feeling guilty for a moment - he isn't sure if ned knows about how close he's gotten to dundy or how he'll respond to it - but it would take a lot more than that to take him from dundy's side right now. he doesn't look at ned as he answers, looking down at dundy's face instead.

i... i don't think he's entirely conscious or aware of himself right now. but he's patched up and he's alive. what happened up there? did you tangle with that creature again?

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

>dundy's whoozy, delirious, he can feel everything in high definition, and it's all so goddamned loud, but georgie's touch is sweet... soft... soothing... come here... please... but he can't speak, so he shuts his eyes, resigning himself to this, resigning himself to the cold and the dark when georgie shifts, then climbs in next to him. he muses mildly on the irony of him being in graham's place now and georgie being in his, and he shifts so he pushes up against him, seeking his heat like a worm burying in dirt. graham, he thinks, vaguely. graham... and john... and clara... he's on his stomach right now, and he's sure he won't be able to use his arm well ever again, but none of that matters... there's a twisting sickness inside him as he pushes himself against his georgie. he has to find the words, he has to... he doesn't have that energy like he did out on the ice, he doesn't know how he did that, how he managed to get up after he'd just been shot, how he'd managed to load the gun and fire back... how he'd almost hit mr. armitage. a miracle, really, it had been a miracle.

>he focuses on the names in his mind, reaching, grasping and finally through the pain mutters

clara... john. graham. sur la glace...

>he shuts his eyes, trying to catch his breath. anything... anything to dull the pain, please... more than just georgie's solid, stable warmth, his golden glow, his warm high note... more than that... laudendum... opium... anything...

tout fait mal georgie

>his mind can't grasp english, it's too fractured and not all present. he latches onto irish. spits out french

tout fait mal

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george's head snaps up when dundy starts to speak, trying to make out what he's saying... something about a clara? he understands about john and graham... of course, they'll have been out there too, and god, he hopes they're alright. when he hears dundy speak - tout fait mal - his heart just about breaks. he brushes dundy's hair back, trying to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make anything worse.

oh, my love. I know it does, darling. the surgeons... they'll make it better... and I'm here and- and the captain cares about you very much too... you'll be alright. you will.

he's saying it to convince himself as much as he is dundy. he leans down and kisses his forehead softly.

my love... my henry. if you'll ever have me again... god, he sighs. he isn't sure if dundy will be aware or even remember this, so he just says it. if you still wanted to marry me I'd have you as my husband in a heartbeat.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

>there's a quiet, calm hum in his mind. He hears the words, but they seem to drift through him. He can only watch Georgie, barely processing.

>id have you as my husband in a heartbeat

>death, dundy realizes, feels nice

>he thought it would be James with him at the end because it's James who's plagued him for so long... if not James, Francis... but the fact that it's Georgie with him... it makes sense, Dundy thinks. That it would be Georgie he thinks of as he dies... Georgie asking him for his hand in marriage, a dream come true, one of those things that only happens in death... in dreams...

>he didn't realize death would hurt this bad, though. Thought it would soothe and ease the pain, not be a continuation of it, but Dundy supposes he can't be picky. His Georgie is here, and he wants him back... even if Dundy's only done him wrong, only scared him off, only only only...

>Dundy supposes this dying death dream of his now would have no other choice but to be wish fulfillment

Oui, he says, and, ignoring the pain (he's dead, after all, none of this matters), allons nous marier (because the English still hasn't found its way back to him) je t'aime and then he'll reach for Georgie and he'll kiss him, and the feeling of his lips against Georgie's is another spark of heat that feels like coming to life again

>everything is blindingly painful, but he ignores it. it's not real pain. Not anymore

>I love you, he thinks. Je t'aime. Je te manque. Ne me laisse pas... I love you I need you don't leave me don't leave me...

>if this is a dying dream, dundy thinks, then at least his Georgie can hear all of his thoughts... it's nice that he sounds the same... glows the same... as he does in life... I love you...

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george kisses him back with a little hum, cupping his face softly before pulling back. he can tell that dundy is not totally conscious and certainly in some sort of delirium. but the words ring in his head all the same.. then let's marry... and he can't help but smile, despite all of it.

we shall. when you're better, we shall. but rest now, my love. you need to heal. you're so strong, henry...

he strokes his face, looking on him with an affection, an adoration burning up his heart deeper than he ever would've believed he was capable of. he never knew he could possibly love something so much and he positively aches with it. the slight prickling on his back still from his healing scars that's ever-present these days melts away into background noise. every awful thing that came before this moment ceases to matter right now. he is in love and loved in return.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.

[lieut-dundy-le-vesconte]

>dundy's whoozy, delirious, he can feel everything in high definition, and it's all so goddamned loud, but georgie's touch is sweet... soft... soothing... come here... please... but he can't speak, so he shuts his eyes, resigning himself to this, resigning himself to the cold and the dark when georgie shifts, then climbs in next to him. he muses mildly on the irony of him being in graham's place now and georgie being in his, and he shifts so he pushes up against him, seeking his heat like a worm burying in dirt. graham, he thinks, vaguely. graham... and john... and clara... he's on his stomach right now, and he's sure he won't be able to use his arm well ever again, but none of that matters... there's a twisting sickness inside him as he pushes himself against his georgie. he has to find the words, he has to... he doesn't have that energy like he did out on the ice, he doesn't know how he did that, how he managed to get up after he'd just been shot, how he'd managed to load the gun and fire back... how he'd almost hit mr. armitage. a miracle, really, it had been a miracle.

>he focuses on the names in his mind, reaching, grasping and finally through the pain mutters

clara... john. graham. sur la glace...

>he shuts his eyes, trying to catch his breath. anything... anything to dull the pain, please... more than just georgie's solid, stable warmth, his golden glow, his warm high note... more than that... laudendum... opium... anything...

tout fait mal georgie

>his mind can't grasp english, it's too fractured and not all present. he latches onto irish. spits out french

tout fait mal

[ltgeorgehodgson]

george's head snaps up when dundy starts to speak, trying to make out what he's saying... something about a clara? he understands about john and graham... of course, they'll have been out there too, and god, he hopes they're alright. when he hears dundy speak - tout fait mal - his heart just about breaks. he brushes dundy's hair back, trying to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make anything worse.

oh, my love. I know it does, darling. the surgeons... they'll make it better... and I'm here and- and the captain cares about you very much too... you'll be alright. you will.

he's saying it to convince himself as much as he is dundy. he leans down and kisses his forehead softly.

my love... my henry. if you'll ever have me again... god, he sighs. he isn't sure if dundy will be aware or even remember this, so he just says it. if you still wanted to marry me I'd have you as my husband in a heartbeat.

[ltgeorgehodgson]

in the sick bay, george can't help but strain his ears, listening for any sign of a struggle up on deck, any indication that he might be needed to help defend the ship. but right now his order, from his captain, is to stay with @lieut-dundy-le-vesconte and not let him go for anything. he crouches down by the side of the bed, stroking his hair and whispering soft reassurances to him. once the surgeon has finished stitching up the bullet wound, george gently climbs onto the bed, laying down on his side to face dundy properly.

you're alright, henry darling. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm not ever leaving you again.