Due South

“It’s me, James. Can I come in?”Crozier hears his second swear again, and there’s rustling around like he’s trying to move something. “One– moment–” Fitzjames’s voice sounds strained. There’s a dull thud and the sound of a pained gasp.Slightly worried by his reply, Crozier starts to pull open the ties on the tent flap. “James?” He asks, stepping inside. “What’s going on? Are you alright–”Fitzjames is crumpled on the ground, his shirt pulled halfway over his head. It looks almost comically too large for him, and his arms are tangled in the sleeves. Crozier can see his ribs protruding under his skin, and for a moment he sees a spot of blood before the younger captain swiftly tugs the edge of his shirt down. Fitzjames wraps his arms around himself and looks up sharply at Crozier, color rising to his cheeks.“Good lord, Francis, you might’ve waited.” He huffs, pulling his bracers up and grabbing his sweater to put it back on as well.