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Summary
Francis had come to James the evening of Sir John’s funeral, taken him aside privately, his breath laced with the cloying smell of rum. James had braced himself for a litany of his own failings, but instead, Francis had clapped him on the shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Fitzjames, I’ve not been a friend to you,” he’d said, “but I pray you will give me a second chance.”
James had nodded stiffly, hiding his surprise. He knew better than to trust a drunken profession such as this one; nonetheless, a tendril of hope sprouted deep within his heart.
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A fix-it (of sorts) that explores the questions: What if Hickey was found out earlier on? And what if Francis Crozier's relationship with his second turned into something different, and more?