dorsetgirl: (Default)
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When I started watching Sharpe, back in December 2020, I wrote a few fics that I called “transcript fics”, because they literally started with an exact transcript of everything I saw on the screen - every movement, every facial expression - together with all of the dialogue. I then made my story around the transcript by filling in what the characters might have been thinking, pulling in memories of previous events, whatever seemed to fit, while keeping exactly to the framework laid down on screen.

By such means it’s easy to end up with a 1,000 word fic out of a few seconds on the screen, though of course the number of words isn’t the aim. The aim is to understand what might have been going through the characters’ minds and put that on the page, because ultimately I’m a reader, not a viewer.

Since watching the series I’ve gone back to reading the books, and, primed by the series, have spotted many instances where a bit of Sharpe/Harper would fit nicely - in fact sometimes I’m convinced Cornwell has actually written Sharpe/Harper, just never bothered actually saying so.

And since writing my first Sharpe/Arthur recently I’ve spotted various instances in the books where there’s evidence for that, too, to the extent that I wanted to do a transcript fic of some of them.

But while a transcript fic from the screen, though a long business, is ultimately very straightforward - it happens on screen, I write it down, and there’s my framework - a transcript fic from a book is much, much harder, because of the way Cornwell writes.

First, there’s the business of swapping points of view, which is fairly standard stuff but as a reader I do find fairly hard work. But most important in terms of the difficulty of working out exactly what’s actually going on, is the fact that Cornwell doesn’t tell us everything the point-of-view character knows. So you can’t just read one scene and fit your story around that, you have to read the entire book to get the whole picture of what happened in that scene.

For example, in Chapter 1 of Sharpe’s Battle, Sharpe gets himself in a lot of trouble - as is his wont - by shooting some French prisoners. Wellington doesn’t find out about it till Chapter 6, and it’s another couple of scenes after that before Sharpe learns that Wellington knows and will put him before what will effectively be a show trial for it.

Then in Chapter 11, Sharpe flashes back to finding out (from Colonel Runciman) earlier in the same chapter that they’re off the hook for that and subsequent events:

~ ~ ~
“Our conduct today [at Fuentes de Oñoro], I am told, obviates any need to question the sad events of San Isidro. Quite right too.”

Sharpe had smiled. He had known he was exonerated from the moment that Wellington, just before the Real Compañía Irlandesa’s counterattack on the village, had reprimanded him for shooting the French prisoners.
~ ~ ~

All lovely stuff, and a huge relief for Sharpe, who was expecting to lose his commission over the matter. But let’s have a look at how that moment was reported when it happened, back in Chapter 10, many pages and an entire battle earlier:

~ ~ ~
"One moment!" The General's voice was frigid. "Captain Sharpe?"

Sharpe turned back. "My Lord?"

"The reason, Captain Sharpe, why we do not execute enemy prisoners, no matter how vile their behaviour, is that the enemy will reciprocate the favour on our men, no matter how small their provocation." The General looked at Sharpe with an eye as cold as a winter stream. "Do I make myself clear, Captain Sharpe?"

"Yes, sir. My Lord."

Wellington gave a very small nod. "Go."
~ ~ ~

No hint there that he’s really telling Sharpe he’s off the hook. Yet Sharpe understood that immediately, and that is why I saw that scene as evidence of a close relationship between Sharpe and Wellington. Because Sharpe knew what Wellington was really saying, and Wellington knew he would understand. It’s an official and very public reprimand, sure - but it’s also a love scene, an indication of how well they understand each other. And that’s why I had to fic it.


I don’t have access to Sharpe’s Revenge at the moment, but there’s another strong instance of the same thing there. When Sharpe sleeps with Lucille - after Frederickson has gone to Paris - there is no mention, no clue, until many, many weeks and chapters later, when he finally has to tell Frederickson, who still thinks he’s going to waltz in and claim her.
dorsetgirl: (DG1)
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Title: Hanging Barabbas
Fandom: Sharpe (TV)
Relationship: Sharpe/Harper
Rating: Teen and up; nothing explicit, canon levels of violence
One-shot, 1169 words

Summary: A name from the past trips Sharpe's defences.

Notes: Based on this clip from Sharpe's Peril. Also posted at AO3.





~ ~ ~

Sharpe moves towards Corporal Hakeswill. It’s time, he’ll take no more delay, but for some reason Harper is now standing between him and the sorry bastard.

“Out the way, Pat.”

But Pat doesn’t move, just looks at him, and Sharpe stares back at him in confusion as the world seems to freeze around him.

He’s trying to do the right thing for Teresa’s memory, putting down a man who doesn’t deserve to live and Pat, unbelievably, is protecting the bastard. He’d genuinely thought, though their lives are so different now, that after all these years Harper was his man through and through, and now he’s doing this. That hurts.

In truth, he can’t remember much about what’s brought them to this confrontation, if confrontation it is. All he knows is that when he heard Dragomirov call the prisoner Hakeswill, his mind shattered, filled with fears, tears, Teresa, a swirling mass of pain blinding him and bleeding him till he couldn’t think. He only remembers moving forwards, punching, kicking, pushing at the pain with only one thought in his mind - to kill it before it killed him.

Another second and he’ll have the rope round the bastard’s neck. Finish him. Finish the pain.

Finish it all.

He realises he’s got his sword in his hand and as he lifts it slightly an image of it pressed against Tredinnick’s throat flashes through his mind.

He looks at Harper and, for a moment, he doesn’t know what to do.

~ ~ ~

Sure the colonel’s got himself in a right mood over this one so he has, proving that Harper was right not to tell him Barabbas’ full name. Though how he didn’t see those broad high cheekbones are the dead spit of his late unlamented father’s is for God alone to know.

Pat watches Sharpe’s eyes - always the eyes, that’s where you’ll see the move first - willing Sharpe to calm down before it’s too late. For a man with violence so ready at his fingertips, the colonel doesn’t often attack without good reason, but Pat can see right now reason is out the window with the sidhe. His French lady or no, Richard never did get over losing Miss Teresa that way.

He’s still got that sword in his hand, and the rope in the other, and if he even attempts to do what he says he will, it’ll be the end of him for sure. At best he’ll lose his pension and his battle honours, live out his days a drunk in the gutter. Pat’s seen it before. At the worst the Major will clap him in chains and hang him in the morning and none to say him nay. Then likely they’ll all die on this barren plain for want of a proper leader.

Pat has but an instant to think how to settle this.

The easy way would be to overpower the man, and he can do that right enough - those few years of easy living after Waterloo have long since sweated off under the baking Indian sun - but not with all these people around them. The princess, Dragomirov, Tredinnick, they’re all watching, frozen in their separate places, while Wormwood and his crew of pox-ridden dirty shites are looking suspiciously pleased at the holy show Sharpe is making of himself.

So no, that’s not the way, Pat will do nothing to undermine Sharpe’s authority with this ragtag rabble they’ve picked up, not when it’s the only thing the colonel has left in his life, and not when Pat knows it’s the only thing keeping them all alive.

Or he could maybe try to talk him out of it, it wouldn’t be the first time, but the man can be bloody unpredictable, so he can. Stubborn as a donkey, loyal as an Irishman, he’s as hard as Wellesley himself half the time and soft as shit the rest, and who’s to say which way he’ll go this time.

Pat’s only loved one person like Sharpe loved Teresa, and though he hasn’t lost that person like Sharpe lost Teresa, he knows this pain goes too deep for reasoning. One wrong word from Pat in this moment and they’ll both be on a path there’ll be no coming back from.

He spoke only truth when he told Sharpe that, given the word, he’d follow him through the gates of hell, but he hadn’t planned on those gates leading them to King George’s bloody gallows for murder.

So that leaves the hardest way, the only way: man to man, open his heart and show Sharpe the truth.

~ ~ ~

The compassion in Pat’s eyes shakes Sharpe to the core as he stands close and looks at him so calm, so sure, and speaks softly, as if for Sharpe’s ears alone:

“Can’t let you do it, Richard.”

After all these years it still gives him a charge, a feeling of coming home, to be called Richard by this man, rather than Sir, but he has to do this, he must.

Teresa needs him to avenge her. Since Lucille and her gentler influence left him last year, he’s felt himself turning back into the only man who ever tamed La Aguja, and he wants vengeance. For her life. For their daughter.

But before he’s even done telling Harper to stand aside, Pat is speaking again.

“You’ll have to put me down first.”

That pulls him up short and the jangling pain in his mind finally stops. He feels anchored by the steady voice of the man who was his sergeant and is his friend, and he looks into Pat’s eyes and realises that Harper isn’t, he never was, protecting Barabbas from Sharpe.

He’s protecting Sharpe from himself.

Protecting him from at best dishonour and the Duke’s everlasting contempt, and at worst from being hung for murder, and this time for real.

After all the years and miles they’ve been through together, and the years they’ve spent apart, it’s like a warm fire in a cold field to know that Pat is still willing, determined even, to stand at his shoulder in time of need.

He looks around but none will meet his eye save Harper. He stares again at Patrick and the man nods slightly, reinforcing the message.

Sharpe closes his eyes for a moment, putting Teresa away from him yet again, saying goodbye to her though it crushes his heart to do it.

He uses the excuse of thrusting the rope into Harper’s arms to move closer to the big man’s warmth and strength, just for a second, and breathe in his certainty.

Then he turns and walks away.

~ ~ ~

Clasping the rope as it smacks him in the chest and face, Harper watches Sharpe - Richard - as he turns, and he breathes out slowly. Sharpe has always been the very definition of dangerous, he never did learn to be a gentleman, and by a long way this is not the first time Pat has saved him from himself.

He just thanks the holy mother he’s still got the touch.

~ ~ ~
dorsetgirl: (Default)
One of the consequences of lockdown has been that I ran out of new books to read months ago (I'm reliant on the - currently-closed - library as I can't afford to buy many nowadays). Another consequence has been the creeping insanity caused by never, ever having the house to myself as no-one is going out.

The upshot of both of these has been an escape into watching drama on Youtube, and I started with Sharpe.

Just a few weeks in and the muse woke up for the first time in years. Yes, I wrote a fic. Just one small scene, involving two men standing looking at each other - you know how it is. As the scene is so short*, the fic was originally going to be just a drabble, but as they stood there looking at each other, the space around them started to fill with their feelings and memories, with this one moment the centre and culmination of years of their lives. No-one else could have done for Sharpe what Harper did in this scene. (No, NOT like that, people are watching!)

So I added bits, and took away bits, and then I rearranged all the bits, and quite to my surprise at the end of all that messing about it now has the once-familiar shape and feel of a DorsetGirl fic. I'm very happy about as this is my first fic in years and my first ever Sharpe/Harper

But it's driving me nuts leaving it to settle so I can come back with a reader's eyes to check it before posting. I want it done and posted so I can start the next one. Oh dear...

And I'm not even thinking about creating some Sharpe icons to go with the new activity, no sirree.

*It's in this clip.

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