Allhands and bodies too, aft - 1st June

"No!" The hold was almost painful, so tight it was now. He shook his head and shut his eyes because that made him feel just more dizzy. The world just seemed to twist and turn in it's own strange way, not natural not even in the manner a ship would do!

"..M'no..dun' go....Goor'." He mumbled looking pitifully pleading, if still rather out of it. "y..you 'ere...w'..why you 'ere..?" It was good he was, great, but... how was it possible, if this was not a dream?

"I ain't goin' yet awhile," Thompson said reassuringly. "I'm here 'cause... Well, 'cause despite everythin', I was worried about you. I wanted to see how you are after all that." He sighed. "I dunno quite why I care about you, lad, but I do. Seems there ain't anyone else to worry theirselves grey over what you'll do next."

Thompson was there, and even if he was barely aware of that fact, it made him smile and feel joyous. Perhaps a bit too joyous under the effect of the drug, but no matter.

He was worried about him, he cared. It made the boy try getting up. But although his limbs felt light, they also seemed disinterested in acting according to his wishes and desires. When he did but a mere push upwards, an inch no less, he felt the world twist and turn about him and he felt so dizzy that he slumped back.

"m'.. I decent? "He asked unwilling to turn or to move much for fear the story would repeat itself. He looked thoughtful at Thompson's words and then, while unable to keep his smile from tugging at the corner of his lips, he spoke, though still muffled: "You's ..gott'n gray hairs cos' o'me?"

"No, no, don't try an' move, Mathew, lad," Thompson said, gently pressing him back down. "You's decent, aye, lad. An' I ain't seen a mirror in half an age so I ain't rightly sure, but I wouldn't be surprised to find I've turned grey overnight what with the worryin' over you." He smiled. "Here, turn your head t'other way an' look at me, will you?"

De Guarde smiled and found himself unable to contain the feeling, so strong that it was, at Thompson's words. It touched him deeply that the marine had worried so much that, if it were possible, his hair would have been a different colour. He slowly turned his head about. Fearful still that the apparition would disappear and Thompson would be no more. Surely laudanum could do that? Make believe?

But as he opened one eye, and then the other and looked straight at the marine he saw him there, and he could still feel his arm that he held so tight to himself. "...You'm...gray asn' storm cloud."He murmured, though he told a lie. "I guess y'm ...y'm true. You..you'm sure y'm not drunk summat bad yeself?" Thompson was there. He'd come, he was with him when he was asleep, he had waited for him to wake up! He waited. The boy felt warmth rush down his cheeks, moist and clear and saw blurry again, but this time with all the different reason.

"You'll be tellin' me I'm gettin' fat, too," Thompson grumbled, hiding a grin. "Only thing I've drunk recently that's bad's bin the water. Though we've got fresh now, of course." He looked down at the lad. "Here, you ain't cryin', are you?"

He fumbled in his pocket for a clean rag - he tried to keep a rag there to wipe his musket down with after coming off sentry if he'd been at one of the topside sentry posts. He pressed the cloth into the lad's hand.

"m'not." He protested, but could not deny it any longer. His cheeks were glistening with the wetness, and his eyes stung. He squeezed the hand that gave him the clean cloth then let go of it, but came to his face sloppily with the rather clean material.

He pressed it to his eyes and burried his face in the cloth so that Thompson did not see the tears even if the soft tremor of his shoulders betrayed their existence. He wanted the flood of emotions to stop, to leave him in his dazed state. Thompson had been there and had waited for him to wake up. It was just too much. He had not expected it to happen.

"You are," Thompson said, and shifted his hand to stroke the boy's back through the thin fabric of his shirt. "You rest easy there - I'll never hear the end of it if the surgeon catch you cryin' like that. He'll think I've bin beatin' you up or summat, I daresay."

He rubbed fervently against his eyes and his cheeks, till he felt too dizzy to continue, and his skin turned all too red there. He withdrew the cloth and hiccuped a few breaths, before his breathing steadied too.

"...I'd tell'im t' truth. He'd know. I'd tell'im you'd done all... all.." His lip trembled again and he closed his eyes , forcing himself to breathe slow. "Thank you."

"No worries," Thompson said. "Now, stop pipin' your eyes, all right? Ain't anythin' to cry over, is there, not now?" He kept rubbing de Guarde's back as he spoke. "You ought to go back to sleep, get your strength back, lad. I'd say you're tired after everythin' that's bin happenin', an' if you ain't tired, I'm a Chinaman."

"I wos' wonderin'.."He yawned and nestled his head against Thompson's arm again, tugging it closer, enjoying the other right where it was at, and probably rightfully blaming it for making his battle with sleep yet again a loosing one.

The excitement, even tears, had tired him out additionally. "I wos' wonderin' why your eyes looked so..slight n' narro'." He murmured. The stroking, gentle as it were, was quite successful, really.

"You cheeky younker," Thompson said. "I ought to turn you over me knee this minute for that." He wouldn't, of course, not after everything that the lad had been through. "You go to sleep, else the surgeon'll have me guts for his garters, I'll be bound."

The boy flinched. The idea of being put over the knee was the least appealing when the said part of his body ached or would ache much worse when the laudanum would let up. "Mmmmh." He mumbled in response, pressing his forehead against the sleeve of Thompson's arm.

"Mmm..dun'wan'tat.. ye need y'm guts."He sighed content, more happy than when he was fully asleep. "Prom's..t'...stay?"

"Oops. Was on'y teasin'," Thompson said, feeling the lad flinch. "Wouldn't do it for real, not with what's happened to you already today. An' I'll stay as long as I can, though I've got to go on sentry-go at the end of the watch, all right?"

"..mm...can'ye ask Mister Cartwright if'n you can stay?" If he was not so much out of it he would probably not have suggested that. But now, he cared little of how probable something was, or how very possible.

His rump was safe, at least for the moment. Nicely covered up, tended to, cleaned up, given a remedy that would prevent it from becoming infected and padded so that even if the boy might lean on it some, it would be softer than the direct contact with fabric or table would be. Even so, the boy did not think of moving at all. Probably the only amount of moving he would do is to use the chamberpot f he would not be made to use the roundhouse rather. Either of them would be closer than the Heads.

"'Fraid not. I'm here for a while yet anyhow," Thompson said. "You'll be all right. The surgeon's puttin' you on light duties for a bit, an' I think you ought to go back to sleep afore he gets back, or I'll be in trouble for wakin' you up."

"I'll... I'll sleep." Part of him wanted to sleep, part of him wanted to keep the company while it lasted. Torn between the two, he just felt too tired to think. "Goerge...will y' be here even if'n.....if'n I ... sleep? I might fer...ferget you was here. 'Couse ..o' laudan...lau..lan...that."

"I'll be 'ere for a while yet. I ain't goin' to leave you afore the surgeon gets back, an' even when I do go, you can keep me forage hat for a bit, all right?" He rubbed de Guarde's back soothingly.

"..A..a'right." It did mean that if he woke up later, and did not remember Thompson being there, he would still have physical evidence to fall back on. And there was no other marine who would leave his forage hat with the boy, so it could be no doubt as to who it belonged. He squirmed very lightly and then saw, for the first time, the promised object under his elbow. He smiled and had to squirm his other arm - the one not holding Thompson - towards it. He was still unwilling to let go, so the forage hat was picked with the semi free hand and clutched in it. He allowed it rest beside his head, where his hand was again lying. There it would remain till he awoke again and till he decided different or had to return it to the man.

He sighed and closed his eyes. The rubbing of his back was lulling him sweetly back to sleep and his eyes, which were already hard to keep open before, were only more determined to close on him.

"..m'..grateful."He whispered and the sleepiness was as clear as day. "..m'..consid'r ye m' friend..."Even if Thompson would not have thought the same back. It did not matter to the boy. Well, that was a lie. He would have been thrilled to know the feeling was mutual, but would not change his mind as to how he felt, even if it was not. He was probably going to be asleep very soon. Sooner than Thompson would expect him to be perhaps. Sooner than he wanted to be for certain, and sooner than it would be noticed.. all the same.

"Aye, we'm friends, right enough," Thompson said, though he thought the lad was asleep now and beyond hearing his reply. "Reckon I'm about the only one you've got aboard Terpsy here, an' that ain't right, neither, that."

He just hoped nobody was going to rag him over not having his forage hat when he headed aft again. Though if he was quick changing into his red coat, maybe nobody would notice?

Truly enough the boy was fast asleep. His arm relaxed a little, but still held onto Thompson's hand. It just would not let go. His breathing slowed though and became more like that of a sleeping boy, his eyes closed and his lips barely parted. He did not feel particularly uncomfortable lying on his belly though he could be better of not doing so.

Not much could wake him now, not unless he was shaken roughly, or if Thompson had yelled into his ear to make him aware.

"You rest easy there," Thompson said, wondering how long the surgeon was going to be. "You haven't half managed to get yourself in a pickle today, lad, have you?"

There came no response from the sleeping boy, save for the barest of shift. Though he was not fed any drink, and made to celebrate about some type of bravery, he was feeling happy enough. Thompson did come to see him. He waited and worried about him and that to the boy meant a great deal. Al though he was too hazy to appreciate it, and he feared he might not remember any of this, when he woke up next, what Thompson did, lost no value but merely, if anything, gained it.

From a frightened boy that he was when they first wished him stripped and washed infront of everyone, to the resigned, silent and obedient lad, when they took him to be punished, he now was just a boy asleep, where worries were mostly gone. He did not think anybody appreciated his stoic expression or noticed it later, their mind was set on that terrible scene that he made. Rightfully so, even if he was still convinced that nobody really understood. He could not explain it all that well, and that was why perhaps it was so hard to have others feel he had done anything but the most horrendous thing.

Thompson was safe now. While the boy was fast asleep, the surgeon would not consider him deserving of a yelling at. The boy's breathing was even and calm, while it was clear that he was not faking his sleep but that he was genuinely not there.

"You don't half go makin' things hard for yourself, lad," Thompson said, looking down at the sleeping boy. "You gotta learn to give in to things - learn what you oughta fight an' not go pickin' battles you can't win." He looked up, wondering where the surgeon was and when he'd get back.