Chapter Text
Tibet
At first I'd just chalked it up to Tintin's caring nature and a fraternal bond of sorts.
We'd brought Tchang back to the Tibetan village, and the villagers had generously found a room for us in one of the huts, found spare felt mattresses, blankets, pillows and food for us.
I entered the room with a bowl of food for Tintin. Don't ask me what it was – it was warm and seemed nourishing, and that was the most important right now.
Tintin had pushed his mattress up next to Tchang's so it almost created a double bed.
Tchang was still feverish and had slept from the moment we placed him on the mattress.
We were going to bring him down to the monastery tomorrow, but the villagers had convinced us that we needed a night's rest before continuing the journey down the mountain.
Tintin was sitting on the mattress, keeping his gaze on Tchang as if he feared the other boy would disappear if he looked away for a moment. I sat down next to him, and held out the bowl.
"Here, eat. I don't know what it is, but it tasted fine."
He glanced at it. "Thank you, Captain, but I'm not sure if I'm hungry."
"Ten thousand thundering typhoons, boy! How are you going to help Tchang recover if you're as weak as he is?! He's asleep right now, you're not betraying him by eating!"
He wordlessly accepted the bowl and slowly took a bite. However, it seemed to awaken something in him, and he quickly ate the rest. It pleased me to see that, actually.
The whole trek had been a grueling affair, and I'd noticed I was now able to tighten my belt a few notches more than before embarking on this adventure. And I'd had a bit to spare.
Tintin had, in all the years I'd known him, never been anything but slight and slender.
Muscular, yes, but not with a kilo to spare. His deceptively round face concealed that.
While he ate I studied his face and the dark circles under his eyes. He'd barely slept for several days; first while keeping the yeti's lair under surveillance and then later when we carried Tchang back to here.
"How about you get some sleep as well?" I asked.
"But I need to keep an eye on Tchang!" he argued.
"No, lad. Someone needs to keep an eye on Tchang. I can do it while you sleep. And judging by how he's sleeping soundly right now, you can safely go to bed as well."
The stubborn mule nevertheless still looked unsure.
"If anything, any thing happens, I'll of course wake you up," I continued.
"Okay," he relented. "I'll take a nap."
"We need to get you out of some of those clothes," I pointed out. "You can't sleep wearing all of that."
"Is it really necessary, Captain?" he asked, almost like a little child who wanted to avoid a bath.
"Of course it is! Or you'll freeze once you get up and outside again! Blistering barnacles, Tintin, here, let me help you!" I said while trying to remove the jumper he was wearing.
But the boy fought against it and in all the struggle and squirming his shirt and woolen undershirt rode up.
He frantically tried to pull them back in place as quickly as possible, but I'd already caught a glimpse of his body. As shocking as the fairly visible ribs were, it was nothing compared to the big, prominent bruises around his waist.
Of course he didn't walk away unscathed from that incident, but I'd somehow convinced myself that I'd received the worst of it.
I was wrong.
Some of his bruises had faded to yellow and green, but a big part of them were still a deep blueish purple and looked like they were still rather painful.
I looked at him. He looked back.
"Every time you moved, the rope dug into my sides," he said quietly.
I swallowed. I'd moved around quite a bit trying in vain to gain a foothold.
"I'm sorry," I finally said. I didn't really know what else to say, as nothing I said would make the bruises go away faster.
He looked at me with a serenity in his gaze I'd only seen in portraits of saints.
"Don't. We're both here, safe and sound."
That boy. How he'd always be able to forgive and move on, I'd never fathom.
But for now he needed rest.
"Allright. Let's get you out of the rest of the clothes, then, landlubber," I said.
That seemed to break the spell, and he quickly untied his boots and removed his plusfours but kept the woolen underwear on. Although we were inside, it was still a bit chilly.
He somehow was okay with me tucking the zipped up sleeping bag around him like you would a little child. But he was also fighting to keep his eyes open.
"You just sleep, I'll keep watch over you both," I said. It seemed to do the trick and he dozed off.
I looked at his sleeping face. His face was still round, but he'd lost a bit of roundness (others would probably call it 'babyfat', but there was nothing 'baby' about him, in my mind), his cheeks were roughened and weatherbitten from the cold, and his lips chapped.
Even across the bridge of his nose he'd been sunburned and the skin was peeling a bit. And was that the barest hint of stubble? But for the first time in weeks he looked at peace, lying on his side, one hand gripping Tchang's and Milou lying curled up in the hollow created between his bent legs and stomach.