More pain and suffering ahead. These aren't my characters (except the captain and the doctor and the horrible Lewis); I'm just borrowing Mr. Todd to use and abuse and Mr. Hope to be there for him. Spoilers for general concept of the play/movie only. A big thank you to Miss Becky, my beta reader, chief source of encouragement, and really good friend, who owns this story and said I should share.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Compensation
by Melody Wilde

Four

It was much later than he had anticipated, well past full dark, when Anthony hurried down to Todd's room, food in hand. He tapped at the door, waited, then tapped again.

"Mr. Todd?"

There was no answer. He turned the knob and, finding it unlocked, pulled the door open. The lantern was still burning, and the leather jacket was on its peg, but the room was empty.

He set down the plate, his stomach clenching with anxiety. He told himself he was being foolish, that there was no cause for alarm. He could not expect Todd to sit in the room and wait for him to arrive. Todd had simply grown tired of waiting and gone out for another of his walks. He would be back any minute now, and they would sit and talk as he ate, and share the moments that were becoming so increasingly precious.

"There's nothing wrong," he whispered.

But his hands had begun to shake. He remembered the look on Lewis' face earlier that day, remembered the mocking words. And he remembered the night that Lewis had cornered him, alone and in the darkness. He had never been sure what Lewis had wanted of him, but he knew in his bones that it had been sexual, and that it had been wrong. And now Lewis had noticed Todd, and now Todd was missing.

He tried to force himself to think rationally, to be calm. When he was calm—when he would not embarrass both himself and Todd by running across the decks screaming Todd's name like some madwoman—he would go in search of his friend. They would walk back together, shoulders close together, talking softly. Todd would laugh—no, not laugh, for he did not believe he had ever seen the man laugh, but he would certainly smile at Anthony's foolish imaginings.

He counted slowly to fifty, taking a deep breath with each number, then turned and opened the door.

Todd was standing just on the other side, hand reaching for the knob. For a heartbeat, they stood staring—later Anthony could not have told which of them was the more surprised to see the other—then Todd snapped his head to one side, away from Anthony, and took a step forward. Anthony moved back to allow him to enter the room, feeling almost sick with relief.

"Mr. Todd, sir. I was..." He caught himself, realizing he should not admit that he had been concerned. "I brought your supper. I'm sorry I was late."

Todd had gone past him, lifting a hand to lower the wick, keeping his back to Anthony. "Thank you."

He had been too quick to relax. Something was wrong, after all. Todd's voice was tense, strained, as if he were trying to hold himself together. Anthony had heard that tone too many times in the past weeks, when Todd had been ill or in pain and trying to deny it, to mistake it.

"Mr. Todd..."

"If you don't mind, Anthony, I think I'd prefer to eat my supper alone. I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company tonight."

He hesitated, then said softly, "No sir."

Todd's head half turned toward him. "Please, son."

"No sir." His voice was stronger this time.

He expected Todd to lash out at him. Instead, Todd gave a sigh of resignation and raised the light again. He turned, bowing his head so that some of the wild, loose curls covered his face, and slowly, stiffly, lowered himself to the bunk, keeping one forearm pressed tightly across his stomach.

There was blood on his vest, dark and wet and fresh.

"Sir!"

"It's all right. I'm not hurt."

But he was. Anthony dropped to one knee before him, trying to see just how badly. There was an ugly bruise forming along one of the fine cheekbones, and the flesh around the eye in front of it was beginning to swell. Todd's mouth and chin were stained red from a split in his lower lip. Worst of all, there was a sick, haunted look upon his face.

"Who did this?" But he knew the answer. This was the thing he had feared from the moment he had stepped into the room to find it empty.

"A shark." Todd winced as his lip began to bleed again.

"Lewis." When Todd did not respond, he whispered, "I'm going to get the captain."

"No."

"I'll see that bastard court-martialed and—"

"No! You will do nothing." Todd's head jerked up and his voice went harsh—that terrible, frightening, harshness that demanded obedience. "It's over. No one else needs to be involved." He faltered, then seemed to sink back into himself. "I hoped no one else would know about this. Not even you."

Todd's words pained him. Anthony straightened his shoulders and spoke in the most formal tone he could manage. "Then I am sorry to be here when I am unwanted. I had thought I was your friend, sir, and friends share their difficulties, but I'll take my leave immediately."

"Forgive me, Anthony. I'm…tired." The last word was little more than an exhalation of breath. The admission of weakness was so unlike Todd that it startled Anthony.

And then Todd's eyes met his at last, and there was something so wounded in their depths that it made him gasp. That dreadful confusion was back, the wanting to put his arms around Todd and hold him close, mixed with the feeling that to do so would open windows best left closed.

"Can this be cleaned?" Todd looked away and began to try to shrug out of the vest without moving the arm against his body.

"I think so, sir. Here. Let me."

Anthony helped him slip the vest off his arms with a minimum of movement, then, asking permission with a quick glance, began to unbutton Todd's shirt.

"What happened?" he asked hesitantly.

"I was foolish."

"He found you alone, and in a secluded place." Anthony pushed the fabric aside, then cringed at the wide streak of purpling skin across Todd's lower chest.

"Caught me unawares. Didn't even know he was there 'til he had me up against the wall, saying things to me."

"Things?"

"Vile things."

"And then he struck you."

"Eventually." Todd shifted his hand to press at the bruise. "Ah!"

"Dr. McGuire should see to that."

"Nothing's broken."

"How can you be sure?"

"I've had enough broken ribs to know what one feels like."

Anthony let go of the material, but Todd made no move to rebutton the shirt, instead reaching up to touch his lip. "Could I have a bit of water?"

"Sir..." Anthony caught Todd's hands and turned them over, staring at the split and bleeding knuckles.

"Gently, son."

Without another word, Anthony pulled out his pocket handkerchief and dampened it from the water jug. When Todd reached to take it, Anthony shook his head. "Let me."

"All right." He sat very still as Anthony cleaned the blood away from his mouth, so quiet that Anthony dared to lay a fingertip against his chin and turn it to the side, letting the light fall clearly upon the damaged side of his face.

"Why did he do this?" He didn't know he'd voiced the thought until Todd replied.

"Because he could."

"Sir?"

"It's the same the world over, Anthony, the strong preying on the weak. He hit me because I fought back. He's strong, stronger than me, and he knew it." The dark eyes sparked for a second with something that, in another man, would have been amusement, and he murmured, almost to himself, "But not strong enough, though, not this time."

Anthony rewet the cloth and carefully touched the wounds on Todd's hands, then began to scrub at the stain on the vest. "If it doesn't come out, I'll bring you another." Todd had gone quiet again. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No. I'll mend. I always do."

Anthony put the vest aside and rocked back on his heels. "Do you want me to leave you alone now?" Before Todd had time to answer, he heard himself continue, "Let me stay, please, in case Lewis comes at you again."

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

Todd shifted, wincing at the pain. "He won't. But if you want to stay for a while, I'd be glad of the company."

"Do you think you could eat something?"

Todd glanced toward the plate Anthony had brought and muttered, "Cold, I shouldn't wonder."

"I can get you something else."

"No need." He started to reach for the plate, then realized his shirt was still open and awkwardly buttoned it. "I'll try that."

He took a small bite and began to chew slowly, carefully. Anthony had the feeling he was eating only to avoid having to talk, or answer more questions. He sat at Todd's feet, back against the wall, watching Todd, his heart filling again with those strange emotions to which he could not put a name.

At last, Todd set the plate aside and said quietly, "You're looking at me as if you want to eat me up, boy."

Anthony's face went crimson. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't..." He found himself on his feet, shifting uncomfortably. "I think I should go now, if you're sure you'll be all right."

Todd stared up at him for what seemed an eternity, then nodded. "Sleep well."

"And you, sir."

Anthony imagined that he could feel Todd's gaze on his back until the door was shut between them. It was almost more unnerving than Todd's casual words.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony slept poorly that night, starting awake time and again from terrible dreams in which Lewis had overpowered Todd and was beating him, cruelly, mercilessly, the way Anthony feared Todd had been beaten in the past. The idea sickened him. He rose just before dawn and went above to stand at the rail and watch the sky for a very long time, thinking, then went for breakfast.

o-o-o-o-o

"Mr. Todd, sir?" He rapped quietly on the door.

"Come in, Anthony."

Todd was sitting up on the edge of the bunk, staring blindly at the floor between his feet. This morning, the bruising of his cheek and the swelling of his eye and lip were spectacular in their dreadfulness. Anthony flinched and turned away,

"I brought your breakfast," he said unnecessarily. "I asked the cook to make it thinner than usual. I thought it might be difficult for you this morning because of...of..."

"Thank you." Todd took the bowl and set it on his lap, but made no move to touch the spoon.

"Can I get you anything else? Some bread perhaps?"

Todd shook his head.

"Are you in pain?"

"Some."

"What is it, sir?"

"Ghosts." He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Sir, I think…"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door and a hearty, "Mr. Todd?"

"It's Dr. McGuire," Anthony breathed.

The bowl clattered to the floor, spilling its contents. "I told you not to bring him." Todd's voice was low, furious.

"I didn't. I swear."

"Send him away."

"I'll try." Anthony opened the door slightly, trying to block the doctor's view of the room inside.

"Mr. Hope. You're up and about early this morning."

"As are you, sir."

"Been with a patient for the past two hours. Thought I might come and check on Mr. Todd's stitches, see if they're ready to come out."

"He's…um…he doesn't…"

McGuire's eyes narrowed. Anthony shifted from foot to foot, not sure which man he feared most at that moment.

McGuire solved the problem for him, pushing him aside and barging into the room. He stopped just inside the door, eyebrows shooting upward.

"Good God, man, why didn't you send for me?"

"Just a slight accident. Nothing worth troubling you over."

"Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't want to bother me for such a trifle," McGuire said dryly. "Hardly worth mentioning, eh?" He leaned from one side to the other, studying the ravaged face. "I suppose you stumbled in the dark and fell."

"As it so happens, yes," Todd said smoothly.

To Anthony's surprise, the doctor chuckled. "It seems that it was a night for accidents of that nature. I've just come from the bedside of one of the crew, who also fell, but with much somewhat worse results. Young Mr. Lewis. I believe you know him, Mr. Hope?"

"Not well, sir. You say he fell last night?"

"He did, and a rather nasty fall at that. His leg was broken in two places, and his right arm..." McGuire shook his head. "I very much doubt that he'll ever have the use of it again."

Todd smiled. For an instant it was a cold, frightening thing to see, but it shifted almost instantly into something else entirely. "I met the young man briefly only yesterday. Please give him my sympathies."

"Oh I will." McGuire's gaze swept over again Todd, eyes sharp. "Did you incur any other injuries in your fall?"

"A few bruises."

"That's all?"

"Nothing more."

"Are you sure?"

"It was a very quick fall. There wasn't enough time for me to be hurt worse."

"I'm glad. Do you feel up to having the stitches out, or should I come back later?"

"Now is fine."

Anthony stood staring from one to the other as the doctor unwrapped the bandage, inspected the head wound, and then pulled out a small pair of scissors and began to snip at the catgut. Todd's hands clenched the blanket beneath him, but he made no sound.

Some message had passed between them, a message that had nothing to do with the words they were saying, but Anthony could not quite bring himself to believe he had understood it correctly.

At last McGuire straightened with a satisfied nod. "Done. I doubt that you'll even have a scar from it."

"Thank you, sir."

"I trust you'll let me know if you have any problems with it, or with any injuries from your accident?"

"You have my word."

McGuire turned, then paused with his hand on the door, looking at neither man and speaking as if to himself. "Mr. Lewis has been a menace who's hurt more than one man since he joined our crew. I fear I can not, in truth, say I will be sorry to see him leave us." He glanced back. "Are you sleeping well, Mr. Todd?"

"Yes sir."

"Because if you are not, I have no doubt I could spare a bottle of medicinal gin. Or rum, if you would prefer."

"Gin would be a great help, sir."

"Excellent. Mr. Hope, if you'll come by later and pick it up. I doubt that Mr. Todd will be leaving his bunk for a day or two. Good day, gentlemen."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony stared after the doctor's retreating form until it was gone from sight, then closed the door and turned. Todd was leaning back against the wall, waiting, watching, his face—at least the half that was not swollen and discolored—without expression

"Did he think you did that? To Lewis?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I did."

"Sir!"

"Would you rather it had been me lying broken in the infirmary?"

"No sir, but…"

"Do you think the punishment too cruel?" When Anthony only stared, Todd's voice went low, hard. "Would you like to know what he said to me, when he was holding me against the wall with his knee between my legs and his arm so tight across my neck that I could hardly breathe? What he said when he put his hands on me and—"

"Mr. Todd, sir, please."

Todd ignored him, eyes blazing now, seeming more than half crazed. "He told me what he meant to do to me, whether I would allow it or not. And then he put his mouth against my ear and said, 'You won't tell anybody. They never do.' I understood his meaning all too well. I understood that his other victims had been ashamed to speak out against him—that I was not the first man he had hurt this way." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again there was a cold satisfaction in his voice. "But I am the last."

Someone gave a great sob. Anthony was startled to realize that the sound had come from him, that he was standing with his back pressed against the door, eyes wide, shaking.

"Ah. Has this cost me your respect and your friendship, Mr. Hope?"

"I just…I don't…" Anthony swallowed, still trying to sort out what he had just seen and heard and put meaning to it.

It was the wrong answer. Todd whipped forward, stifling a sound of pain from the movement, bent to seize the empty bowl from the floor, and shoved it at Anthony.

"Take it." His voice was rough with some emotion Anthony could only guess at.

"Sir, I…"

"Take it. Leave me."

"Yes sir."

He was almost out the door when he heard Todd whisper, "A rabid animal must be put down, Mr. Hope. And someone must pull the trigger. That, too, is the same the world over."

"Yes sir."

"Don't come back. I have no appetite. Now go."

Harsh as the words were, there was something broken in them. But Anthony was too troubled at that moment to be able to respond—to know how to respond. He pulled the door shut behind him and walked away as quickly as he could.