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[lieutenantsteward]

[Why not try out this journal magic?]

Since this place has seen fit to provide us with an easier method of communicating messages to the entire ship, I thought it best to take advantage. Breakfast is served in the galley. I will not provide food for every meal, but there is fresh bread and I even managed to mix together a rudimentary jam from the dried fruit. The tins contain food that can be heated, but I would warn you against using it more than you need to. We should rely mostly on the dried foods.

[Why? Well, because of reasons that Jopson never really understood but knew were bad.]

Comments

[bestsir]

I—oh. Thank—thank you.

[ Harry does as he's told and sits, accepting the cup with a murmur of thanks. He takes a sip to decide what to say, and then: ]

It's good to see you, Lieutenant. Even in these strange circumstances.

[lieutenantsteward]

[A nod. Perhaps a bit too quickly, but how does one address another person after death? Lieutenant, though, hit the ear wrong. It felt fake. He was a Lieutenant when they needed it, when he needed it. But he didn't need that now, and it seemed silly, like he was dressing up in clothes that were just a little too big.]

Yes. I should say the same. When the Captain told me that you were here, it was...a comfort.

[bestsir]

[ Harry's insistence on using Jopson's field rank is less to do with any kind of formality and more intended as a sign of respect. Harry had always liked the man, and had been genuinely pleased at the promotion. It was, he often felt, the last good thing that had happened to anyone on the expedition. ]

Likewise. I was ... most surprised. To meet him and to know that you were here as well.

[ Because Harry is still not entirely unconvinced that this is Hell. ]

[lieutenantsteward]

[Jopson is also convinced that he is in hell, and is still slightly under the impression that Crozier had left him. As much as the man tried to explain it, Jopson still saw what he saw in those last moments. But Goodsir does not fit the hellish type. In fact, Jopson made it his job to know what was happening on the expedition to best help his Captain through his more vulnerable moments, and Goodsir had struck him as a decent type. More than decent, even. But he doesn't know how to address any of that, so he sticks with what he knows.]

Strange that we are the only three. [A pause.] What can I do for you, Mr. Goodsir? Are you hungry?

[bestsir]

[ Harry thinks he's hungry. At least, hungry in a normal sense; he experienced the extremes of it for so long that he's not sure he remembers what it's like to simply want one's breakfast in an ordinary fashion. ]

Some biscuit or bread would not go amiss, thank you.

[lieutenantsteward]

[Some normalcy would do them good. He cut some bread and refilled the tea, finally allowing himself to sit at a table.]

I took inventory of sick bay. Before you came. [Said quietly.]

[bestsir]

[ Harry relaxes a little when Jopson sits. Normalcy definitely helps. ]

I've not had a chance yet—did you find anything amiss?

[lieutenantsteward]

[He actually manages a small smile at the question.] No. Everything seems exactly as it should have been. Same number of stores we had in the summer before we walked out.

[bestsir]

[A little vague and distracted: ] Good. Good.

[ A pause. ]

Where do you think we are, Jopson?

[ Letting the rank go now. ]

[lieutenantsteward]

Hell, Mr. Goodsir. [He didn't want to mince words, and he firmly believed it with all his soul.] I believe that we are in Hell. Though how you wound up here escapes me.

[bestsir]

[ Harry doesn't even flinch, though he does laugh a little, mirthlessly. ]

I might say the same for you. For my own part—

[ Unconsciously he rubs at his forearm, but does not draw back the sleeve. ]

There were things, at the end ... Forgive me. It—I cannot—

[ A sigh. He ought to be able to tell. But the words won't come. ]

Believe me, I have earned my place. But I can't imagine you as having done the same.

[ But then, what does he know? He has only a little idea of what happened after Hickey's band seized him, and nothing of what came to pass after they captured Crozier. ]

[lieutenantsteward]

[He couldn't imagine what the man could have done to end up in Hell, and yet...]

You need not tell me. Admittedly, I don't know of any great sin, except perhaps an apathy towards religion. [He gave the man a gentle smile that never reached his eyes.] Perhaps I slept or worked through one too many sermons.

Regardless, the others felt it necessary to leave us. [Which he took personally, as if he had not been good enough. If he had been able to stand, perhaps. To walk. Maybe he wouldn't have been alone in the end.]

[bestsir]

The others—they abandoned the sick? But Captain Crozier said—that must have happened after the mutineers captured him.

[ Harry might not have much faith in people in general anymore—and not much left for, say, Lt. Little, who it seems rewarded Crozier's confidence by failing to appear as hoped for—but he's fairly certain that Crozier would have never abandoned the sick, least of all Jopson, if he could at all help it. ]

[lieutenantsteward]

[Which was what Crozier had said. It warmed him slightly to know that his Captain hadn't actually left him. He took a long moment to chew on those words, not even realizing when his tea had grown cool.] Yes. I had hoped that was the case. I just remember the boats leaving. [He grew a little bitter, finally allowing himself to feel negatively towards those men once he had been assured the Captain was truly not among them.] They left us with three tins. To assuage their own guilt, I assume, as we were obviously not well enough to open them ourselves.

[bestsir]

God.

[ Harry shakes his head, almost wishing he could be shocked instead of merely appalled. ]

That was ill done, and I am sorry, though there is nothing I could have done.

[lieutenantsteward]

[Jopson took a breath and nodded.] No, there was nothing to be done. But I appreciate the sentiment.

[bestsir]

[ Harry hesitates a moment, then reaches out to lightly grip Jopson's arm, a gesture of sympathy and reassurance. Only brief, not too familiar. It's something that allows him to change the subject. ]

Have you met ... the others? The ones not from our time? What do you make of them?

[lieutenantsteward]

They are odd! [He seemed to be excited to change the subject, even as his hand gently touched Goodsir's in response.] Some don't seem to believe me, but what else can I do but believe them in what they say? I have seen such strange things in such a short time.

[bestsir]

None of this is ... all of it is very strange. So why not people from other times? How are they faring, as far as you can tell?

[lieutenantsteward]

They are...surviving. [He gave an apologetic shrug.] Two of them seem to know one another, which I believe helps them.

[bestsir]

Yes, I suppose it might. [A small smile.] I know this may be rather selfish to say, but ... I am glad I am not entirely alone, myself.

[lieutenantsteward]

If it's selfish, then I believe we are allowed some of that here. [He stood.] I should finish the bread for tomorrow. Feel free to stay, sir, if you'd like.

[bestsir]

I shall get out of your way shortly and see to the sick bay. Thank you, Jopson.

[lieutenantsteward]

Thank you, Mr. Goodsir. Please return if you should need the company. I will have the tea ready for us.