02. I have not Served a Patient to the Utmost of my Ability

[bestsir]

[ Within an hour or so of the ship being restored, this goes up. Harry writes quickly, particularly when he feels it's urgent. ]

I do not deserve it, but I humbly beg Forgiveness of each of you, for subjecting you to the Horrors of my own Guilt made manifest in that most dreadful of Nightmares.

I am sorriest in particular for what I, possessed by a Nightmare Soul, perpetuated against Mr. Dorian Gray and Miss Trixie, and I do not know what manner of Amends I may make. Mr. Gray was tortured terribly at my hands in the Pursuit of Scientific Inquiry, which in no way excuses my Crimes and indeed only renders them all the more Reprehensible. I treated Miss Trixie in a cold, High-Handed manner that she did not deserve, for she was only attempting to come to my Aid. It is She I have to thank for restoring me to my Senses, and I believe all should be grateful to her for that.

To everyone I owe some manner of Explanation.

My brother and I were students of one Dr. Robert Knox, notorious in Edinburgh for his association with the infamous Murderers, Burke and Hare. My brother always believed him Innocent of any Complicity, and perhaps he was, but I think I always harboured a certain Dread that one day my own Passion for Knowledge would overtake my Morals, just as may or may not have occurred with Knox.

Before I woke here, in this Dream-world, I was in the last extremity of the Arctic expedition, and there I committed certain Deeds that I regret to this very Moment. I permitted myself to be coerced into desecrating a Body at the behest of a Villain of the highest degree—the purpose being to prepare the poor man's flesh for Consumption—after which I engineered my own Death so as to also encompass that Villain's Destruction as well. When the Tuunbaq attacked us last week, I believed it was a Punishment for which I had been waiting all along. I dare say that it has been apparent to all that I have not been well since then—since some time before then, perhaps. In the depths of my Guilt and Self-Recrimination, I believed I had become that which I feared—a Beast on the order of the one who destroyed me, a Monster without Humanity.

Whilst I still have much to Repent, I believe I see Matters more clearly now. I am sorry—most deeply sorry—for not having sought Help before, and for inflicting the Events of the last Three Days upon you all.

If there are any Questions you would like to ask, I am at your disposal.

Sincerely and with great regret,
HDS Goodsir
Surgeon, HMS Terror

[ After writing this, Harry resists the natural urge to hole up in the sick bay again and instead ventures out into the galley, ready for anyone who wants to talk to him. He is also fully expecting Dorian Gray to beat him within an inch of his life, and while he'd prefer if that didn't happen, he can't really blame the man. He just hopes that someone will be around to at least stop him from getting murdered outright. ]

Comments

[lieutenantsteward]

Jopson hears his name being called by Trixie and sets down his mending before running to the galley to help. He sees Dorian over Goodsir and launches himself at him, trying to drag the other man from their only goddamn doctor.

[bestsir]

I'm sorry, he tries to say, I'm so sorry, but he can barely get the words out, and his vision is starting to go hazy around the edges.

[brushoff]

It's obvious that Dorian is intent on outright killing the man. He presses his thumbs into Harry's throat, looking down at the man with a grin of wild satisfaction on his face, paying no attention to the room around them.

Which turns out to be Dorian's downfall as doesn't notice other people arriving until Jopson is on top of him, dragging him away before he can administer the killing blow.

"Tell them what you did!" Dorian yells, as he struggles against Jopson's grasp. "Tell them what you did to me!"

[bestsir]

As Dorian is pulled off of him, Harry slowly pushes himself upright, his hand on his throat, gasping for breath. His head is ringing.

"I tortured you," he grates. He's not interested in protesting or denying anything. "I split you open like a damned rabbit, again and again, and watched as you healed yourself every time. And by God I am sorry for it—I was not in my right mind and had I been, I never would have done such a vile thing, I swear to you."

[brushoff]

When he's not running entirely on anger and adrenaline, Dorian will realize that he gave away a little bit too much about his immortality. But right now, in this moment, he just doesn't care.

"Oh I doubt that. Because as far as I know, during all the previous times the ship's changed, nobody's suddenly got the urge to butcher someone like an animal. I still feel pain, Goodsir!" Dorian yells, as he continues to struggle against Jopson's grasp. "Did you even think of that?"

[bestsir]

"I did!" Harry barks back. "And the man that I was in that nightmare did not care. That was a man I might have been if my life had run a different course and it is not who I am now, and Mr Gray, I will regret what happened to you until the end of time."

He can feel the area around his left eye swelling already. He hasn't had a black eye since he was a child, and that was from an accident. Christ.

[lieutenantsteward]

"Speak no more, sir," he hisses to Dorian. "And do not make me drag you." He is trying to pull him down to the hold, though, where they can have a better chat.

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie's speechless, no small feat. She's come to stand beside Harry, wanting to tend to him, but feeling like her body's been stuffed full of hay.

She stares at Dorian. Christ, she is sympathetic to her friend, but the nonsense coming out of his mouth makes her mind spin like a top.

What did he mean, he was butchered and then healed? What the fuck did he mean?

[bestsir]

As Jopson tries to get Dorian away, Harry just stays where he is, sitting on the floor, trying to get his breath back. He can't begrudge Dorian an ounce of his anger. More than anything else, he regrets that the whole business has thoroughly poisoned any good feeling that there might have been between them.

He has not yet entirely put together the pieces that Dorian's healing ability is something not confined to the madness of the nightmare.

[brushoff]

For all his struggling, Dorian didn't realize it was Jopson holding him until he heard the man speak. He pauses for a moment, still brimming with anger before he stops struggling.

"You don't have to force me," he grumbles to Jopson. "I can walk."

But he wants to get in one last word before they leave. Dorian turns to look at Harry, scowling down at the man. "If you ever lay a finger on me again, I'll kill you where you stand."

Having said his peace, he backs up a little, ready to follow Jopson wherever the other man leads.

[bestsir]

"I'll not touch you again, sir; I promise that," Harry says. Relieved, at least, that another attack is not forthcoming, he grabs on to the nearest stationary object and starts to scramble to his feet.

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie sees Harry start to climb up from the floor and quickly rushes to assist. "Up you come," she says softly, her hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline. "Let's get a good look at you."

[bestsir]

Harry lets her help him up. His side aches, just below the ribs where Dorian kicked him, and his face throbs. He makes his way to the nearest bench and sits down heavily.

"I expected that," he says glumly.

[wishiwasatree]

"Jesus," Trixie mutters, turning his face towards hers with just the tips of her fingers. She doesn't sit, but hovers. "Your eye...your goddamn neck...he would've done you in..."

She touches the reddened part of his neck tenderly. "Would've...would've killed you..."

Fuck. She nearly had him too, and to see that look in his eyes makes her want to be ill.

[bestsir]

"It would have been quicker than what I—what he—" How to talk about that twisted version of himself? "Quicker than what happened to him twice over. Thinking on it now, it is one of the cruelest, most grotesque things I've ever seen." He prods at his cheekbone and winces. It's probably already starting to bruise, but he reckons he's lucky; that punch could have smashed his nose or cracked his jaw. "Also one of the queerest, but I doubt I shall have a chance to ask him about it now."

[wishiwasatree]

"He put himself back together," she says, standing upright. Put himself back together.

Trixie bites at one of her nails and shakes her head. "Fuck, you're gonna stay the fuck away from him, you hear me? A man like that...a man like that will hold a fucking grudge, whether you was in your right mind when you hurt him or not. Now I'm gonna fetch some salve for the bruises. You just...you stay."

[bestsir]

He nods. Yes. Grew back eyes, a heart, and more—Harry feels queasy thinking about it now, no matter how fascinating it was at the time.

"I'll be right here," he says, obedient. "And you needn't tell me twice—I shall give him as wide a berth as this vessel permits."

[wishiwasatree]

Once in sick bay Trixie starts looking through the various shelves and cabinets for what she needs, pushing aside bottles of sloshing liquids and powders until her eyes are too blurry to see anything at all.

"Cunt!" She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Fucking pull yourself together. A man's fucking entitled to his secrets, and you to yours. You've fucking seen enough by now this shouldn't be a shock..." She trails off, crossing the room to find the balms next to the liniments.

A few moments later she returns to Goodsir and hands him the balm. "Put it on your neck. Skin's been rubbed raw."

[bestsir]

"Thank you." The arnica compound, just what he would have chosen. He applies it gingerly, wincing at a few spots where Dorian's nails left their marks.

[wishiwasatree]

She sits down beside Goodsir and watches him apply the balm.

"Does it hurt?"

[bestsir]

"Yes. But it's of no consequence, not really," He replaces the lid on the jar. "There are other—"

He breaks off, aware suddenly that there's something in his waistcoat pocket, something creating a small bulge next to his watch. He reaches into the pocket and pulls out a small piece of carved walrus ivory, not much bigger than two of a man's fingers together. It has a bear's body, an elongated neck, and an odd, flattened face.

"Good Lord," he murmurs.

[wishiwasatree]

Trixie wants to take the strange little sculpture and chuck it across the ship. It unsettles her for reasons she can't verbalize.

"What is that?" she whispers.

[bestsir]

"Have you heard the story about why the Tuunbaq came to harass us?" he asks. "Not here, I mean—in—in the world, before the dream."

[wishiwasatree]

She has, in bits and pieces. "When one of you killed its..." She waves her hand, not remembering the word. "Killed him, on accident?"

[bestsir]

"Its priest, yes. Shaman, I think, is another word." He says this without condescension, merely relaying an interesting fact. "Des Voeux shot him in a panic, meaning to shoot what we then thought was an ordinary bear. We brought him back to Erebus and I tried to save him, but he was too gravely injured, and he died—belowdecks, not under the sky as his daughter begged us. And then Sir John ordered the poor man's body to be disposed of in the fire-hole, like so much refuse." He shakes his head. "No wonder, then, that the Tuunbaq pursued us so angrily."

Trixie might notice that he pronounces the word differently than the others, with an odd glottal stop in the middle.

His hand has closed around the little amulet; he opens it again and looks down at it, brushing his thumb over the smooth surface. "The shaman had many small amulets about his person, including one the dead spit of this. Why I have this now, I've no idea."