Title: Down to the Bone Marrow
Author: LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)
Pairing(s): Friendship! Tintin/Haddock
Rating: M
Warning(s): Language, body horror, blood and gore, suicide attempts, character death, Thing spoilers, Calculus BBQ
Disclaimer: As much as I love both series, I will never own the copyrights to Tintin or John Carpenter's "The Thing." That's probably a good thing.
Other tidbits: For some reason I just really wanted to write a Tintin/Thing crossover. This will generally follow the movie, but with obvious changes. There will be only two survivors by the end of this, though. I'll give y'all a pseudo-hint: I really like RJ Macready from The Thing, and Haddock is narrating this story. This will not end on a happy note.
Oh, and since the Tintin tomes were created and published over such a long period of time, I just like to pretend that the series takes place overall in the 60s just to keep things tidy (and to make the two "Moon" tomes remain canon). Let's just pretend that Hergé was a serial retconner, m'kay?
Chapter One
1111
"We are staying how long in this ice covered wasteland?"
"Captain, I thought you knew how long a wintering over at the South Pole could be."
"No, I did not! Billions of blue blistering barnacles, I thought this was going to be a couple of weeks at the most, not four months!"
"You're saying it like that's a bad thing, Captain. I thought you would be at sea for about that long at a time quite often when you were working."
"Yes, but at least the scenery changed every once in awhile!"
I covered my face with a hand and cursed to myself over just what I was thinking when I volunteered for this silly expedition. Or, really, what I was not thinking about when I decided to join.
Tintin may refer to me as the captain, but I have not been one for twenty years. It's 1982; I am sixty-four years old. All of my hair is still on my head, but it's graying along the edges to prove just how many years of experience I have gained all of these years. I have been a captain of my own merchant ship. I have found treasure and regained my family's old estate. I have even been on the moon before Armstrong did (although the Americans refuse to believe it). I should be at my estate right now, living however retirees are supposed to. But I'm not.
Even at forty the lad still has a boyish quality to him under all those toned muscles. He's fascinated by the world like a two year old to whatever is popular with the children these days, and it's no surprise to me that when he found out that our old bumbling friend was going to Antarctica for… something (I can't remember what exactly), he promptly went upstairs and packed a couple of suitcases.
He may not be my flesh and blood, but I consider him my own all the same. I want to make sure that he's safe and content all day, every day, even if I have to go and make it that way. I would be happy if I spent the rest of my life at Marlinspike Hall, but it wouldn't be the same without Tintin there. It certainly hasn't been the same since Snowy died, so Heaven forbid if something happened to Tintin because I wasn't there to help him.
Only Tintin would compel me to do stupid stuff like this. Only Tintin would make me go to an American outpost at the South Pole for four months, because I love that lad like he was my own son. Part of me is going to really hate this trip, but at the end of the day I'll be happy as long as he's happy.
"Oh, my!" I heard the professor cry out in the cockpit. "Is that it right over there?"
"Yep!" The American helicopter pilot replied. "There it is!"
"Piss?" Cuthbert sounded very embarrassed as he said the word. It was definitely not something he would say in normal circumstances. I fought the urge to snicker to Tintin's disappointment as he continued "Why… uh, yes sir, I do feel the urge to relieve myself, but I can wait for the little boy's room for another few minutes. The call is not too urgent just yet."
The pilot had gotten used to Cuthbert's tendency to mishear everything after several hours of chitchat from Christchurch to the outpost. So instead of laughing with an incredulous "what?" to every other thing like he did earlier, he said "Sure, sure. We're only a couple of minutes away from landing. And you know what, ah, Calculus? I'll even escort you to the nearest bathroom if you want!"
"Oh, how wonderful! I cannot comprehend why Americans are considered so piggish, what with you being so courteous to me and the whatnot…"
A few minutes later the helicopter jolted. Tintin and I yelped and even went into the air a few inches up when the helicopter finally landed. I did not realize how sore my ears were from the blades whirring until they finally stopped moving.
We heard a bang against the helicopter's cold metal exterior.
"Get your shit together, because we're here!"
I grunted before grabbing my beat up suitcases.
I knew that Antarctica was going to be cold, but blistering barnacles if my four thick layers weren't enough! I dropped my suitcases into the snow as I instinctually hugged my chest and shivered.
"Come on Captain, we need to move," Tintin said in a calm, yet stern, voice as a free pinky attempted to wrap itself around one of my suitcase handles. "Macready said that the wind chill is going to be negative sixty soon. You're going to freeze if you stay out here."
I shoved the pinky away from the handle as I let go of myself and took a thick gloved, yet shivering hand onto it, then grabbed the other.
"I understand, lad. I'm just not used to this climate, you know…"
Tintin and I had our own room in the housing complex. Thundering typhoons, my cabin on the Karaboudjan was less drab and more inviting… And I don't remember decorating that with much aside from empty whisky bottles and the occasional lost playing card. The walls and floors were all wood. Hopefully the walls had at least some kind of insulation to keep up from freezing in our sleep. The thick, thermal ash gray sheets atop our military surplus twin beds did not look like that they would successfully do the job on their own.
I laid down on the bed and stretched out. My back, neck, and legs were aching and I felt so wonderful as my movements readjusted everything.
"Captain," Tintin said to burst my bubble of bliss. "I would love to relax as much as you do, but we need to meet with everyone else in the main research building."
My back groaned as loudly as my mouth did as I followed Tintin out of the room. At least that large shack that was the main base was only across from our housing base. Tintin chose the nearest entrance (which we also guessed was the main entrance) and tried to push down the knob… to no effect. I began shivering again as Tintin knocked several times on the door and whistled between each period. The lad had the patience of a saint, that was for sure.
After what felt like forever the door finally opened. The black man was in his twenties, wearing a cooking apron and rollerskates.
"Hello sir," Tintin said. "May we please come in?"
The man let out a laugh and grinned. He turned his head towards what I would presume were the other occupants across the hall and said,
"Hey, guess what, guys? The Frenchies are here!"
Ugh. If anything, these penguin chicks of Americans were going to be the death of me…