Never Shall Be Slaves, part twelve

[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.



Tom was freaking out. It took a few days, but finally he pulled enough strings and did enough right to be allowed to briefly see Richard.

Richard was notably thinner, his complexion a discouraging gray-green. A rash crept down his arms from under his loose uniform. When Tom approached, he blinked, frowning, trying to grasp on to what was happening, then managed a very weak smile. His voice was rough from coughing, but he said "How much candy did this one cost you?"

"Never you mind, sir." Tom smiled and knelt beside his cot. "How are you?"

Richard made a noncommittal motion with his hand. "I come and go." A small frown. "How long has it been?"

"Two days. I think they only let me see you, sir, because I couldn't concentrate on anything else." And because Tom preformed some certain favors. But he didn't think about that and smiled instead. "I brought you some candy, sir. Strawberry. You like those."

"Thank you. Hide them in the pillowcase when they aren't looking." Quieter, "You should try to carry on better."

"I don't think I can, sir." Tom grabbed his hand.

Richard shook his head a little, though he couldn't squeeze back very hard at all. "You will, cadet. You're stronger than you know." A rattling cough. "You'll get home to your Sophie, and have lots of children."

Tom was almost at the point of tears. "But what about you, sir? What about Ada? She needs you, too, sir."

"Of course." Richard shuddered. "By God, Germany is a cold place. Don't you find?"

"Yes. But it will get warmer soon, sir. You'll see." Tom was being as cheerful as he could.

"I'm sure. Mr. Jarndyce will be rather put out with me for laying abed so long." Richard coughed, and it seemed to rattle his entire frame for a moment. "But Miss Clare told me I needed to rest more."

"See? It's good. Are the doctors treating you well?"

Richard frowned a little, confused for a moment. "Doctors? Oh... I suppose. They all whisper together... whisper about nothing, just to make us worry... but I know it is not such a grave matter," he coughed again, "not so grave as they would make out."

Tom looked around and saw a certain lack of whispering doctors. "Of course not, sir. Of course not. You'll be just fine in a few days."

"Should have been Seward, you know. Seward," another coughing fit, "Seward would have gotten you out."

"No, sir. No one could have done as much as you. And we will get out, sir. You'll see."

Richard focused, gaining a bit more lucidity. "Jones...if something should happen. Promise me you won't just give up." A weak smile. "'Britons never will be slaves,' you know."

Tom was crying a bit now. "Nothing's going to happen, sir. You'll pull through."

"I'll do what I can, Tom. But I'd still like you to promise," Richard said, firm despite his obvious weakness.

"Of course, sir. I'd never just give up and die."

"Good man." Richard coughed again, hard. "I never told Ada I loved her, you know."

Tom smiled and patted his hand. "You will. You'll end up marrying her. And moving out to the country and your house can be next to mine and Sophie's. And we'll both have children and they'll all be friends, one of each for me. How many for you, sir?"

"Two boys and a girl, I should think. Ada would like a girl to fuss over," Richard said faintly.

"Sophie would probably like one as well. And my boy will be good friends with yours. The three of them will be the terror of the county. Not an orchard will be safe." Tom was still smiling and talking in a soothing way.

A faint smile. "Why do I have a feeling your son will be a terrible influence?"

"I've no idea, sir." Tom laughed a little. "But your two will be sure to keep him in line and keep him from trying anything too stupid."

"Either that, or my daughter will fall hopelessly - " Richard was cut off by his cough, and remained inarticulate for some time.

Tom remained next to him, holding his hand. "It's alright, sir. Try to breathe deeply."

Richard was burning to touch, though still shivering. "You'll..." still a bit breathless, "they'll probably make you get back to work soon, I should imagine."

"I can stay with you as long as I wish today, sir, and all night, too."

The ghost of a frown appeared on Richard’s face. "You didn't do anything foolish for that, did you?"

Tom didn't look him in the eye. "Nothing I regret."

"Tom..."

A guard rushed in, moving to the doctor who was currently tending a patient on the other side of the infirmary. Something was obviously out of the ordinary, though his voice was low enough that it was hard to catch what. Tom tried to listen, but he wasn't getting much.

He turned to Richard. "Something's happening, sir. Something's happening, but I don't know what." Richard nodded.

The doctor said, speaking slightly louder than the guard, "The ones in here can't march. What do you intend to do with them?" The guard shook his head, answering very quietly.

That put Tom on edge. He gripped Richard's hand tight enough that it probably hurt the other man. "I don't think this is good, sir."

A weak laugh. "I'm amazed that that would still surprise you." Richard coughed.

"Take the other first," said the doctor. "If it comes to that..." He suddenly remembered Tom was there and glanced at him.

The guard did too, and said "You there. Come over here."

Tom didn't want to leave Richard, but he did as he was told. "Yes, sir?"

"We're moving. In about an hour. Be outside and ready to go in thirty minutes." His voice was curt and brusque, moreso than the normal manner.

"But...but what about him?" Tom pointed to Richard.

The doctor said, calmly, "There will be a transport following after you. We'll move them on trucks to the next camp."

Tom knew the guard and knew that he was aware of his position. "May I go with him? Please, sir?" Tom had become quite good at lowering himself and he used it all right now.

The guard frowned a moment. "There would not be enough room in the truck," he said finally. "But you may stay until we are ready to march."

Tom bit back anything he wanted to say. He had learned to take what he was given and be thankful for it. "Thank you."

He hurried back to Richard. "Sir. We have to leave."

"Leave?" Richard frowned. "When?"

"I'm not sure. Half an hour maybe. I'm supposed to be marching."

A weak but self-mocking smile. "I don't imagine I'll be doing much marching, myself."

"They said that you would be going in a truck with the other patients..." Tom trailed off, his eyes starting to tear up again.

"Well then. I'll see you when we get there, won't I?" Richard looked around. "It's not as if the facilities could get vastly worse." He curled up a little, wrapping his blankets tighter around himself.

Tom was seized with an overwhelming dread. He didn't know where it came from and he didn't know why, but he was afraid of not seeing Richard again. "I'll be back in a moment, sir." He had to find that guard.

The guard was outside, barking orders to prisoners who were gathering supplies, packing boxes, and generally breaking the camp down. The Germans who Tom could see all looked tense. Tom approached warily. "Sir? I...I need to speak with you."

The guard said, shortly, "What is it?", clearly preoccupied.

"I need to stay with him, sir. Please. I'll do anything." Tom said the last bit with hardly any hesitation. He knew how the camp worked.

The guard barely looked at him, which was, itself, odd. "Stay, then. Tell the doctor I said to treat you like the invalids. Now get out of my way. You there-! Hurry up!" And he strode off.

"Thank you!" Tom shouted after him before racing back inside and telling the doctor what he said. The doctor looked surprised and slightly nervous, but just nodded. He was packing a small bag himself.

Richard had fallen back into unconsciousness, though not true sleep, in the short time Tom had been gone. Without the animation of talking, he looked markedly worse. Tom went back to sit by Richard's side, holding his hand and waiting for him to wake up.