Chapter Text
When he wakes back on the ship, it is at first not particularly disorienting. He had, after all, spent almost four years living on board Terror. To come to consciousness slowly, helped along toward wakefulness by the familiar creaking of the ice and the incessant sound of the wind outside…it’s familiar, soothing almost. It takes Thomas Jopson a few moments to remember that this was not at all where he’d fallen asleep.
Had he fallen asleep? He can’t seem to remember anything that happened immediately before waking, he only knows that he was not on board Terror, and now he is. He has a distant memory of feeling ill. He does not feel ill now. Only tired. Tired to the very marrow of his bones. Perhaps he’d had a bit too much to drink?
Drink…. It was Captain Crozier that did most of the drinking on Terror. Thomas would join him every once in a great while, for a conciliatory toast. To celebrate an occasion; Thomas' birthday, (when his Captain insisted), or for Christmas and Easter. But not much more than that. Thomas’ memories of his mother’s ghoulish face and empty eyes, destroyed on Laudanum, well, it kept him away from hitting the bottle too often. Watching Crozier slowly turn the prow of his life’s ship in that same direction had been very hard for Thomas to witness.
But… hadn’t Crozier quit drinking? Yes, he’d most certainly done so right before the carnival. Right before they’d...decided to…
And then his thoughts become hazy and drift away, like puffs of condensed air on a frigid breeze, and he passes into sleep.
________
He wakes again and notices he’s more comfortable than usual, warmer than he’s been in years. He cannot quite remember why he felt pain, but he knows that he felt it quite severely and for a long time, and this is experienced mostly by the complete, blissful lack of any sort of pain now inhabiting his body. He feels completely well. Whole and warm and not even hungry.
This time, instead of staying in his quarters or lying again on his bed and drifting back off, he goes in search of Captain Crozier. He has a job to do after all. His Captain needs breakfast, and a shave, and assistance with getting on his uniform. Why hadn’t Thomas done that the last morning he’d woken? Dozing back to sleep, just because one is comfortable enough to do so is no excuse for slacking off in such a shameful manner.
Thomas can’t comprehend why he’d commit such an abominable lapse of his duties, but he plans on making up for it by being extra attentive this morning. He is suddenly struck with a sharp pang of worry that Crozier is somehow not here. That he’s left… left Jopson behind… What a strange thing to think. Captain Crozier would never abandon him, nor any of his men. He’d never leave a man behind who still lived.
His mouth is dry and there is a glass of water on the table by his bunk, and he gulps it down eagerly. He does his morning toilet with water that is suspiciously warm, then shaves, so that he does not present himself to his Captain in slovenly looking whiskers. He dresses neatly and with care, and as he does so, he notes that his clothing appears freshly washed and smells of lavender and some other pleasant, floral scent. His clothing has not truly been cleaned well for years and this makes him wonder who took the time to do such a thing so thoroughly. Nevertheless, his job awaits, and so he smooths down his hair and takes one last glance in the small mirror hanging from the wall across from his bed before stepping out into the hall.
It’s eerily silent, and he walks from corridor to corridor, past room after empty room with a rising thrill of apprehension curled inside his chest. The ship is empty. The mess hall, the officer’s cabins and the hammocks, all empty. He feels a mounting sense of dread at the thought that his Captain will not be here either. That he’s been left alone to wander this empty ship for the rest of his life. This thought ignites a twist of panic, deep in his gut that he tries to shove down and dismiss with little success. He has no desire to poke at the reason behind this feeling, he only knows he won’t rest until he can lay eyes on his Captain.
He knocks softly on Captain Crozier’s door, the sound of his knuckles against the wood ringing too loud in the tomb like silence of the empty ship. It’s only accompaniment is the pounding of his heart.
“Come!” The sound of Crozier’s voice through the door is possibly the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He lets out a gust of a relieved sigh and pushes open the door to the Captain’s quarters. And there stands Crozier, in his shirtsleeves. His hair is a bit mussed and he needs a shave, but he’s there, and well, and looking reassuringly grouchy as if Thomas’ knock has just woken him.
His eyes though, light up when he sees Thomas, and Thomas barely restrains the urge to throw his arms around Crozier and embrace him. “Captain Crozier!! It’s awfully good to see you sir!” His heart swells with joy and affection, and he watches a bright smile bloom across Crozier’s handsome, rugged face.
“Jopson! My but you’re a sight for sore eyes!” The Captain strides forward and grips Thomas by his upper arms, giving him a little shake with the enthusiasm of his greeting. “I’ve just now managed to drag my bones out of bed. I’ve no idea what’s transpired in the past few days. Have you any clue?”
“None sir,” Thomas replies with a grimace. “Sorry to say sir, but I’ve been asleep. Must have been ill. I just couldn’t seem to get up. And I must apologize Captain, for the frightful lack of-”
“Shush now Jopson. I had no need of you, and it sounds like whatever illness I came down with was afflicting you as well. I could not seem to stay awake for what felt like a few days, and I was dreadfully tired.”
“I as well sir,” Jopson replies. “Couldn’t seem to stay awake. Do you remember what happened before you took to your bed? I could have sworn we left the ship, but cannot remember where we went.”
“I thought so too,” Crozier’s brow is furrowed in confusion. “We had plans to walk south in search of rescue. And now we are all back here, on board as if nothing happened?” He looks precisely as confused as Thomas feels. Thomas is again struck with a wave of gratitude to not only have company aboard the Terror, but to have the best company he could ever wish for. Crozier is strong willed, intelligent, resourceful and has a sharp sense of humor that Thomas has grown to greatly appreciate in the years they’ve worked closely together. He could not be happier to be stuck with his Captain.
“Sir,” Thomas doesn’t wish to impart bad news, but it can’t be helped. “The ship is empty sir.”
“Empty?” Crozier looks at him, eyebrows climbing in surprise.
“Yes. I cannot find another living soul, other than you and I.”
“But, where are all the men?”
“I have no idea sir. I haven’t gone up on deck yet. I wanted to find you first.”
“Well then, I’ll get dressed and we can go up together and have a look see.”
________
They dress warmly and head topside to investigate. The first thing that’s made immediately clear is that they’re still on the pack ice. Frozen white extends in all directions. The ship sits, flat on the ice beneath her, unslanted and solid as the day they were first stuck there. The land all around them is as flat as a plate. Gone are the crags and towers of jagged ice that once surrounded Terror.
The second thing they notice, quite quickly, is that the Erebus is gone. There’s nothing but frozen wasteland in all directions and the Erebus is nowhere to be seen. They both stare numbly at the empty space where they know the other ship should be, mouths gaping in shock. It is a thing that defies all earthly explanation.
The third thing that becomes apparent is that they’ve dressed a bit too warmly. The temperature has increased dramatically, which makes very little sense, as they appear to be in the same ice shrouded hellscape that has kept both ships captive for nearly four years. And yet, it feels a few degrees above zero, rather than fifteen below. Thomas can remove his gloves without discomfort, and they both pull down their mufflers, and the wind does not sting and bite at their cheeks and noses as it always does. Thomas turns his face toward the sun, which is shining in a blue and cloudless sky. He closes his eyes and lets the chill breeze caress his face and hair and breathes deep.
Crozier takes a moment to do the same before he looks at Thomas with surprise plain on his features. “It’s too warm for the ice to still be here,” he says, remarking on the obvious, and Thomas nods in agreement. He’s glad it’s Crozier who says it, for he feels a little as if he’s gone mad, what with the disappearance of Erebus and the bright, warm sun. They go below decks again after several minutes spent looking around them in mild confusion at the endless sea of ice.
_________
A week passes. Then another. They walk out to the sight where Erebus had been and find nothing but clean and unbroken ice. With nothing left to look at, they return to the ship, confounded.
They discover more unusual and unexplained things, but since they can find no good reason for the existence of such things, they have no choice but to simply accept them. It helps that all of the new discoveries without fail are positive.
Thomas goes to the mess and is pleased to see a large stack of new tins there. These are gleaming silver, not the rusty red-brown of the cheap, half rotted tins of food they’d brought with them. They’re each labeled with a curious square of white paper that sticks to the tins as if adhered by wall paper paste or some other very effective glue. Each label is written in a clear and eloquent hand in ink. The first one Thomas picks up says ‘green beans’, and once he’s cut open the lid and had a look at the insides, he finds preserved green beans, emerald in colour and gleaming in clear water. He opens others, a delicious looking beef stew with carrots and potatoes, a tomato soup and a fourth tin, containing rich red cherries preserved in sugar syrup for he and Captain Crozier’s supper.
He and Crozier dine like kings that night and for the entirety of that week. The tins seem to contain an extensive variety of foods, and Thomas is pleased to watch Crozier’s face grow rosier with something that isn’t drink, or the chapping of a frozen wind.
The weather grows increasingly warmer, until they no longer need coats above decks, and still the ice remains, though it’s chill breezes do not reach them. The sun stays, a bright yellow ball in an azure sky, unblinking, and sets for a few hours a night before rising again each morning.
Thomas spends a lot of time when not otherwise engaged, simply basking in the sun, leaning on the ship’s rail, his face tilted up to catch the warmth and brightness of the gleaming, impossible sunlight, enjoying being inside a body that is well fed and not suffering from aches, pains or frigid temperatures.
_______
They both laugh more, smile more easily. It occurs to Thomas that this might be Heaven, and one evening, a little over two weeks after they’ve awoken in this strange reality, he says so.
“Do you think sir, that we died… of the cold or from scurvy, and this is Heaven?” He feels silly saying it, but Captain Crozier doesn’t laugh. He looks thoughtful, like he is seriously considering it.
“I’d agree with you, Jopson, if not for a few things that would not support your theory. Firstly, none of the other men are here, and if this were Heaven, it would be quite a specific one to hold only you and I wouldn’t it? And while I am a faithful Captain who loves his ship, this is no one’s idea of a heavenly location in which to spend the rest of our eternity. I’d have pictured a blanket of clouds, a choir of saints singing our praises.” He winks at Thomas, and Thomas grins back at him. Neither of them have ever been much for religion.
“Thirdly,” Crozier continues, “the fact that I had a bit of the runs from eating too many of those tinned cherries last night. And I banged my elbow yesterday, on the edge of my cabin door. It still hurts this morning. I am not certain that things like the runs and banged elbows exist in heaven.”
Thomas chuckles at the Captain’s playfully rueful expression. “That’s a good deduction sir. Now that I think about it, I stubbed my toe against the top step of the ladder to the deck two days ago and it hurt something dreadful for a few moments, and now there’s a bruise. I am not certain stubbed toes are part of Heaven either. But perhaps we’re both mistaken, and Heaven is closer to the living world than we imagined?”
“Perhaps,” Crozier replies. “I’ve been taking copious notes of our situation in my journal. Should this blasted pack ever let us go, and we make our way back to England, I’d like to have a good record of these events.”
“That’s prudent sir,” Thomas chides himself for not having thought of the same thing, but his Captain is a very clever man, and he should have known he’d think to keep a record.
“What’s for supper tonight Jopson?” Crozier asks with a warm smile.
“I’ve found some fish stew and capers that I think will do very well,” Thomas says, returning his Captain’s smile with another one of his own. He adores feeding Crozier, though he doesn’t say this out loud of course.
______
A week later and they've grown accustomed to the warmer weather and better food. Both of them have put on weight. Thomas is pleased to see Captain Crozier’s belly round in a small pooch of extra fat, pleased that his shoulders and cheeks and waist fill out from the too-slender look of quasi-starvation he remembers.
Now when had they run out of food? He can’t seem to remember that happening, but if so, then why is a fuller, healthier Crozier such a relief to him, if they’d never been in danger of having nothing to eat? It confuses him and so he puts those thoughts aside for a time when he can find out more about their situation. His memories are foggy and hard to hold onto, and he can’t seem to recall much past the horrible Carnival where they lost so many men to the vengeful flames of Stanley’s incomprehensible self immolation.
_____
All around them, subtle changes occur. One day, Thomas is headed from the mess to the Captain’s Quarters and notes that the wood of the walls past which he walks have grown smoother and cleaner. The grain of the wood is no longer visible, and has become a uniform, clean white and mahogany brown, the surface of which feels smooth like glass. He knows not what to make of this, and so he brings the observation to his Captain.
“I’ve noticed that as well,” responds Crozier. “I’ve no clue what it means. This world, wherever we are, it changes around us in ways it should not. The ice never thaws, and yet it must be at least ten degrees celsius by now. And I am almost certain I was in far poorer physical shape before I woke up and you came to my door that morning. Yet now, I feel ten years younger.”
Thomas nods. “I feel the same way. It is confusing indeed…” he pauses, thinking for a moment. “Sir, did we somehow run out of provisions aboard Terror? I am remembering you much thinner than you are presently.”
“And I you,” Crozier admits with a frown. When first I saw you, when you woke me a few weeks ago, I was more glad to see you than I should be. And I don’t mean that I’m not always glad to see you Jopson, that much should go without being said,” he gives Thomas a warm grin before continuing. “But it was as if you had been gone far longer, or that I’d been worried of something bad having happened to you, and I was very relieved to be proven wrong.”
Thomas nods enthusiastically. “Yes! That is exactly how I felt! I was certain that we’d been separated somehow, that perhaps something dreadful had happened to you. Seeing you open that door was a relief indeed sir.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re both hale and hearty now Jopson. And I’m glad you’re here. I can’t think of a better chap to be marooned with.”
His voice is so warm, and his eyes meet Thomas’ and hold there for a moment. Thomas’ blush wells up through his chest and into his face in a hot wave, and he looks down at his hands in his lap, unable to bear the pleasure of being praised so by his Captain. If this is not Heaven, he thinks, well then, it is something close to it.
_____
Several days later, they’re sitting together over the remains of a very good supper. Jopson has discovered a tin of fruit he does not recognize. It is green, bright green, with small black seeds at its core. It is cut into colorful medallions and preserved in the same sugar syrup as the other fruit they’ve found. Captain Crozier, a far more worldly man than he, cannot recognize it either, but he takes a bite and pronounces the fruit delicious. Somewhere between a banana and an orange, with the consistency closer to the banana side.
Jopson, grinning at the newness of it, spears one of the emerald green discs with his fork and takes a bite. It is indeed delicious, half tart and half sweet. The small black seeds crunch pleasantly between his teeth as he chews. He swallows it down with a smile.
His smile fades swiftly however as he feels a sudden heat suffuse his chest and throat, climbing up to his scalp to tighten the skin there. His tongue itches fiercely and his throat begins to close up, causing his breath to rasp in and out of his lungs. Crozier is immediately at his side, hand on his back, asking him urgent questions, but all Thomas can do is gasp for air and stare, wide eyed with panic at his Captain’s frightened expression. Crozier is gripping Thomas by the face and is peering into his eyes, calling his name. Thomas has a final thought that it is quite an unfair tragedy that he’ll die of poisoning after making it to this strange land of warmth and plenty. That he still has some things he might have liked to tell Crozier, before his vision goes black.
_______
He is not dead. That much is revealed to him when he stirs and opens his eyes, coughs violently and clears a throat that’s incredibly dry.
He can breathe, and he does so, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Crozier is still bent over him, and Thomas is lying down in the Captain’s own bed. Crozier is looking away from him though, speaking to someone else in the room, and this is very strange indeed.
“He’s awake,” Crozier says. “God bless you, he’s awake and breathing well.”
“Excellent news Captain,” comes an unfamiliar male voice.
Thomas raises himself onto his elbows, squinting blearily at the image of a man standing a few feet away. He’s dressed as a ship’s doctor. His surgeon’s apron is affixed by a single button to his waistcoat and he’s in shirt sleeves and simple dark trousers. He is however, a stranger, clean shaven with light brown hair. He looks friendly, and Thomas feels no apprehension upon seeing this unknown man. Only a sharp stab of curiosity. He and Crozier have been alone for weeks now aboard Terror. They haven’t seen another living soul.
“Not to worry lad,” Crozier is sitting beside him on the bed, his hand has come to rest on Thomas’ shin, possessive and protective, and Thomas loves the feeling. The warmth of the Captain’s touch cuts a pleasant swath through his fear and confusion.
“What happened?” He croaks, his eyes darting from the strange man’s face to Crozier’s. “Was I poisoned?”
“Not quite.” The surgeon steps forward, looking shy and polite, his manner reassuringly similar to that of Doctor Goodsir’s. “You had what’s called an allergic reaction. This means that your body rejected certain things in the fruit you ate. Such reactions can be fatal, and I must apologize. I did not realize that tins of that particular fruit were brought on board.”
This is a statement that Thomas finds utterly confusing. He blinks and turns to look at Crozier for some sort of corroboration.
Crozier smiles warmly at him. He’s wearing a face his steward knows well. The one that means that he’s just as confused as Thomas, but being brave so as to not upset Thomas further. “He’s right lad,”Crozier says. “He gave you an injection of some sort. A needle in your arm and that seemed to put you right. I was afraid I’d lost you there for a second.” The hand on his shin squeezes him firmly and Crozier is looking at him with a sort of fondness that thrills Thomas, despite how turned around he is.
“And who are you sir?” he turns to look again at the strange doctor.
“My name is Smith, and who I am is not quite so easily explained. For now, I’ll just have to say that I am here to help, and that you’re both safe and sound. No harm will befall you further. At least none that I may prevent.”
A thousand questions rush to fling themselves past Thomas’ lips, but Smith holds up both hands in a placating motion. “I must go now, but I’ll return soon with companions, and we’ll talk about what will happen next and about where you are.”
None of this makes sense. “Was there a rescue party?” Crozier seems to shake himself out of his confused state faster than Thomas can manage. “Have you news from London? Are we rescued?”
“All will be revealed soon,” Smith says. “For the time being, all I can say is that yes, you both have most decidedly been rescued. But I cannot give you further details yet. Please be patient. As I said, you are safe and well cared for. This illness of steward Jopson’s should never have occurred, and the individual responsible will be extensively questioned. Now gentlemen, I must wish you a good day.”
With that, he nods and exits the Captain’s quarters before either of them can move to detain him. Crozier turns to Thomas and tells him to lie still and that he’ll be back shortly and goes off in search of the strange gentleman. He returns several minutes later however with the news that the man has apparently disappeared into thin air, for he cannot be found anywhere on the ship, nor out on the expanse of white ice and snow that surrounds Terror.