August Challenge piece.
Well, here's my tuppence's worth -
Title: "Watching"
Rating: PG
Characters: Sharpe, Harper
Summary: Harper’s thoughts about his new officer.
Spoilers: Sharpe's Rifles
Author's Note: Short piece for the look_sharpe August Picture Prompt. Takes place somewhere between Rifles and Havoc, when they’re out on one of their little trips for Hogan.
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He was watching him. Harper could feel the green eyes burning into the back of his skull, but as usual he took no notice, keeping his head bent to cleaning his rifle lock, and as ever the gaze moved onwards, back to the horizon or the other men. That was the thing about Mister Sharpe; he never stopped watching. Never. It was vigilance to the point of restlessness - and Harper suspected the man did not know how to stop.
Sharpe had not stopped watching Harper since he had tried to kill him at the behest of the others during the bitter winter of the retreat to Corunna. It had been months ago, yet the sergeant knew the incident was still fresh in Sharpe’s mind, and that the lieutenant was always mindful of how fragile his grip on the men really was. They were still not his soldiers, not entirely, but Harper would see to it that the rest would come round. Sharpe was a good officer; a right bastard, maybe, but sometimes the world needed to have a right bastard in control to get things done properly. On that hellish march the green-eyed lieutenant had proved his worth a hundred times over; fighting with Harper and winning, keeping the men from becoming a rabble, escaping the French time and time again, unfurling the gonfalon of St. James at Santiago, and most importantly, getting every single one of them back to the army. Sharpe had promised he would get them home, and he had kept his promise. That, Harper thought, was the sign of a good officer, even if he was a heathen Englishman. If they stuck with Mister Sharpe they would be alright.
Though one thought rested uneasily at the back of Harper’s mind. Sharpe had gone from lining the Irishman up for the firing squad to forcing him to take his sergeant’s stripes. Sharpe knew he needed Harper on his side, and Harper knew the Rifles needed Sharpe. It was a new, uneasy alliance; one that still had to be tried and tested to its full extent, and it was for that reason the lieutenant kept his eyes on the sergeant. Somehow he knew that Sharpe would never stop watching him, and it was with utter certainty that he knew he himself would never stop watching Sharpe.
Title: "Watching"
Rating: PG
Characters: Sharpe, Harper
Summary: Harper’s thoughts about his new officer.
Spoilers: Sharpe's Rifles
Author's Note: Short piece for the look_sharpe August Picture Prompt. Takes place somewhere between Rifles and Havoc, when they’re out on one of their little trips for Hogan.
---------
He was watching him. Harper could feel the green eyes burning into the back of his skull, but as usual he took no notice, keeping his head bent to cleaning his rifle lock, and as ever the gaze moved onwards, back to the horizon or the other men. That was the thing about Mister Sharpe; he never stopped watching. Never. It was vigilance to the point of restlessness - and Harper suspected the man did not know how to stop.
Sharpe had not stopped watching Harper since he had tried to kill him at the behest of the others during the bitter winter of the retreat to Corunna. It had been months ago, yet the sergeant knew the incident was still fresh in Sharpe’s mind, and that the lieutenant was always mindful of how fragile his grip on the men really was. They were still not his soldiers, not entirely, but Harper would see to it that the rest would come round. Sharpe was a good officer; a right bastard, maybe, but sometimes the world needed to have a right bastard in control to get things done properly. On that hellish march the green-eyed lieutenant had proved his worth a hundred times over; fighting with Harper and winning, keeping the men from becoming a rabble, escaping the French time and time again, unfurling the gonfalon of St. James at Santiago, and most importantly, getting every single one of them back to the army. Sharpe had promised he would get them home, and he had kept his promise. That, Harper thought, was the sign of a good officer, even if he was a heathen Englishman. If they stuck with Mister Sharpe they would be alright.
Though one thought rested uneasily at the back of Harper’s mind. Sharpe had gone from lining the Irishman up for the firing squad to forcing him to take his sergeant’s stripes. Sharpe knew he needed Harper on his side, and Harper knew the Rifles needed Sharpe. It was a new, uneasy alliance; one that still had to be tried and tested to its full extent, and it was for that reason the lieutenant kept his eyes on the sergeant. Somehow he knew that Sharpe would never stop watching him, and it was with utter certainty that he knew he himself would never stop watching Sharpe.