Never Shall Be Slaves, part eleven

[dolevalan]

Title: Never Shall Be Slaves
Co-author Credit: abnormal_sea
Fandom(s): Richard Carstone is from Bleak House by Charles Dickens. Tom Jones is from the novel of the same name by Henry Fielding. Danny Sloane (Arthur's younger brother) also makes a brief cameo appearance.
Rating: PG-13, overall, for violence and some language.



Time passed, and they continued clearing road. At first, Richard seemed to be doing better. Though they were being underfed, he was young, and he adapted to the hard labor as best he could. He was worried about Jones, but having someone to worry about was perversely helpful.

Then it began to get colder. And Richard began to cough.

He tried to hide it, at first, shrugging it off. But it got harder and harder to hide, especially from Tom, since they were together almost constantly, except for Tom's "training sessions."

Tom came in late, after yet another lesson. He put his own thin blanket on top of Richard's and then curled up next to him. "How are you doing, sir?"

Richard normally would have protested, but he felt cold enough that he just pulled the extra blanket around himself. He smiled a bit, but his voice sounded raw. "Just a cold, Jones. How was your lesson? Exciting as always?"

"Of course, sir." He gave Richard his candy, a cherry flavored drop. "I was learning about history tonight."

"Oh?" A smile, and then a coughing fit. He was careful to turn away from Tom until he recovered. "What astounding insights do the Germans have into history?"

Tom put his hand on Richard's shoulder until the fit passed. "Suffice it to say that it was nothing that I remember from school." Tom didn't think it worth mentioning that he remembered very little from school at all. "Are you alright, sir?" He knew what the answer was going to be. With a hand on Richard's shoulder, Tom couldn't help but feel that Richard was warm and that he was also shivering a bit.

"It will pass, Jones. I've survived the flu before."

"Never without proper care, sir. Or while being made to work."

A small, self-mocking smile. "I'll be sure to stay home sick tomorrow, then." Richard shivered again; it was fairly clear he was feverish.

Tom tucked the blankets tighter around him and put a hand to his forehead. "You need to go to the infirmary, sir. You need help."

"Have you ever noticed, Jones, that there is a distinct lack of discharged patients from the infirmary?" Richard winced a bit, and turned his head away to cough again. "I'll feel better in the morning, I'm quite sure."

"Then I'll try to see if I can get them to do anything, sir. I'm sure I can arrange something." Tom hugged Richard close, trying to warm him up and offer a little comfort.

Richard shivered, burning up. "You should be careful, Jones. Wouldn't do for both of us to catch the flu at once." Weakly, but good natured, "After all, who'd fetch the candy then?"

Tom hugged him closer, trying to make him stop shivering. "I'll be fine, sir. I think they might be worried if I caught sick. After all, they fixed my shoulder."

Richard winced a little again, but said, "So it's quite mended, then?"

"Yes, Rick." Tom took the a scrap of cloth and started trying to wipe away the sweat from Richard's face. "It's just a rather impressive scar by now."

"I'm sure your Sophie will quite enjoy fussing over it, one day. Nothing like battle scars to prove how brave you are, after all." Richard smiled, but then closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply, though something in his chest rattled a bit as he did.

Tom was getting scared. "I'm not very brave, sir." He tried to give Richard all of the comfort that he could, but it wasn't much.

"Nonsense. You told a nazi you were Napoleon. If that isn't brave, I don't know what is." Richard didn't resist, though he still tried to pull away when he had to cough, enough to cough to the other side. Tom let him do so.

"No. I'm not, sir. That was stupid. Brave is when you aren't afraid of being alone."

"Everyone's afraid of being alone, Tom. Some people just manage to carry on in spite of it better than others."

"I'm not very good at that, sir." Tom hugged him a little tighter, only partly to warm him.

"Well, lucky you didn't end up alone, then." It might be hard to judge, but Richard seemed slightly hotter than he had been. "Though I imagine you would have managed somehow."

"I don't think so, sir." Tom stayed close.

Richard smiled, but fainter as he started to drift off to sleep, still shivering a bit. "You should have more faith in yourself, Jones."

"Yes. Sleep, sir." Tom was tired as well, but determined to wait until Richard fell asleep. He didn't have long to wait. Richard fell into a restless but deep sleep fairly soon after.

And when Tom got up the next morning, Richard didn't follow him.

"Sir. Sir? You need to get up."

Richard groaned, curling in on himself. His color was bad, and he murmured half an unintelligible sentence.

"Sir!" Tom went back to Richard's side. "I'm not going to leave you until you get up."

Richard murmured something that sounded like "Tell Ada I'll be there later," though it was hard to be sure as the end dissolved into a coughing fit.

Tom's voice was edging on a scream. "Richard!"

This finally drew a guard, especially as the barracks were rapidly emptying. He marched over. "What is - oh." Apparently Richard's condition was rather self explanatory.

Tom whirled on the guard. "Do something! Please!"

The guard nodded, curtly. "We will take him to the infirmary. Get to inspection."

Tom looked nervous. "He will be alright?"

"We will do what we can. Go."

Tom nodded and moved to go out. "Get better, sir. Please."

When Tom returned that night, Richard was indeed no longer in the barracks.