The sick bay

Stephen looked up. "I will, and I think Captain Padstowe should stay with me. In turn, you must stay with Captain Padstowe, as he is in charge of your parole. I am very sorry, Capitaine, but hopefully it will not be too long a delay."

Raoul shrugged. He had not expected a different response. "If the Army is there," he said. "I expect the General would want his horse immediately. I am sure the crew will be glad to see the back of it - cantering into the distance."

"If that horse hurts another man, Wellesley will have paid for a gelding," Stephen muttered. He looked up at des Sablières, thinking he understood what he was hinting at. "If we can have a meeting with an army official, and Mister Crozier has not regained consciousness, I am sure you would be able to go with them instead."

Raoul raised a hand. "No - I will not abandon you to ride off with some stray Army officer. But ... If they are to offload one horse, they may take all three. That might be best, and we will be able to leave the Terpsichore more easily when the time comes."

"It would be no abandonment," said Stephen, his voice carefully neutral. "You understandably wish to be exchanged as soon as possible. But it is a good idea, if it can be arranged."

Raoul opened his mouth to protest, then closed it into a straight line. "As you say. But ... " An exchange was by no means certain. A captain was worth something, but if there was indeed going to be a battle, their value would be decreased. He winced inwardly, at the careless assumption that the British would win.

"I should of course be glad to be no longer a prisoner, but I would miss our conversations."

Stephen studied des Sablières' face. "It is kind of you to say so," he said eventually. "I find that I would as well, even with the unfortunate topics we have been forced to discuss thus far."

Raoul met the doctor's pale stare steadily. "We have discussed many things - some more pleasant. But all..." He stopped, aware that he had been about to say too much, and too soon. He was not yet ready... But he knew, from his initial reaction, something his brain had been trying to deny. "I would miss them," he concluded, with something of a snap.

"You will," Stephen corrected sadly.

Raoul blinked. "Yes, of course. When we reach the Army, it will no doubt be possible to make arrangements. But I will stay with you, even after Figuera de Foz."

"That is..." Stephen looked down at Crozier's wrist, blinking. "Thank you, Capitaine. Until..."

"Until we reach the Army at least - if there is a battle, there will be the chance for exchanges. But..." Raoul drew a deep breath. "There is still much to be said in our ... discussions. On both sides."

Stephen took a deep breath, and said in low French, "Capitaine, I believe you to be a good man; that is why it grieves me to see you working for, and loyal to, cruel and monstrous men. I saw that, inevitably, you were becoming like them. I have told you what they do; I have shown you that I have seen it first hand. I do not know what else will persuade you, and I am tired, and I am close to breaking. I am only human. So if you have something further you wish to say, please say it."

Raoul leaned forward, the doctor's distress forcing him to make the choice he had been avoiding. His voice as low as the Doctor's and in the same language, he said: "I am sorry - I did not want to distress you - But you need say no more. What we have to talk about ... when you are less tired." He bowed his head. "We have to talk about what I should do," he said after a moment.

"What you should do?" Raoul swam, and Stephen dashed a hand across his shamefully scalding face. "What do you mean?"

Raoul swallowed. "I mean ... whether I am to go back to them on exchange, or... There are things I want to say..." He looked round the room - the man in the other cot had turned his head away from them, but that meant nothing. Nor was speaking French any guarantee of confidentiality. And the assistants, even the Marine, would be returning soon. "But this is not the time, nor the place, for me to ... I want to assure you though that you need say nothing else to persuade me, at least." His own mouth twisted, and he gazed down at his hands, between the grey knees of his breeches.

"Raoul..." Stephen said softly, hardly daring to hope. "You do mean... do you?" He gripped the Frenchman's hand, clasped in his lap, and choked, "Christ alive; I cannot tell you how-" There was a sharp knock on the door of the sickbay, and he looked up, startled. "We will talk later, Capitaine," he said, feeling as though a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, to be replaced by another one - softer, but equally heavy.

Raoul looked up into Stephen's face. "I cannot refuse to see what is obvious. You are right, and I knew it before. But I do not see what... " His smile was rather tremulous. The door began to open, and he added hastily: "We will talk later - there is no need for haste, after all."

M'Clure poked his head around the door hesitantly, then stepped all the way through.
"Better eat now, sir, and get some rest, as ye can." he said, by way of a greeting. He was unsure how one should behave when in the company of such men, so probably came across fairly rough. But that was safe enough, and still got the message across.
"Ain't nothing will get past us three, sir." he added, in a voice which was a clear attempt at bravado, but tried also to carry in it pride and simple truth.
He hoped he wasn't interupting anything, but Crozier needed an operation, and to do that, Dr Maturin needed a good meal and some sleep. So there he was.

Stephen nodded and stood, glancing down at Crozier again. "Thank you, Mister M'Clure, Stephen said. "I will be in after dinner to check on him; please tell me immediately if there is any change at all."

[ooc- in after dinner, perhaps?]

"That's alright, sir. Anyone of us can watch him, but you'd better do t'cutting open." He stood clear of the door, moving towards the seat he'd be taking. He wondered if there was any point telling the man to take a fair bite and go straight to bed. He decided there was no point wasting his breath.

Raoul rose to his feet, smiling at the assistant surgeon. "I will go with you, Dr Maturin. If I may." He transferred the smile to the doctor. Perhaps after dinner there would be time to talk, or possibly it would wait until they went ashore. But somehow, it did not matter so much now. As before, the admission released some of the tension that had been affecting him.

"Of course, Capitaine - thank you, M'Clure," he said again, smiling shakily.

M'Clure stood by, hoping that was a happy smile and not one that he'd live to regret. "That's alright, sir." he muttered, unsure.

Confidence, Maturin, confidence above all. "Come now, Capitaine - time to eat. Remember, Mister M'Clure - the slightest change, please to notify me at once."