'You need rest' the Guest announced as Horatio gave into the exhaustion on his shoulder.

'Let me see my men' the captain asked. 'Now I can take anything. You said they are dying.'

'They are' the stranger nodded and kept on stroking Horatio's curly locks.

'I need to see them. You understand, don't you?'

The youth lifted Horatio's head carefully and looked him in the eyes. 'You'll be dead by tomorrow morning' he announced with a tired smile, that suggested this might not be the worst news Horatio could have gotten.

Hornblower contemplated his words and nodded. 'So I will be. I need to see my men.'

And so they went and sat together under the cloudy sky on a deck that was touched by death. There were some living around, but all were hanging by a thread. Horatio saw Styles for a moment again, the man could barely walk this time; he was a shadow of himself. Blood was trickling out of his ear.

And there were the dead, of course, silent and familiar. They were lying around, young and old, fat and lanky – no one was spared.

The Guest leant his head back against the heavy wooden side of the ship and sighed. 'Not long now.'

'Are you staying with me?' Horatio asked him, his voice quivering a bit.

'For a while, yes,' the young man said.

They waited together in silence for what seemed to be hours. Horatio didn't know what to say, he had no questions, his mind was clear but empty.

Matthews came with the news in the dead of the night. He looked dreadfully poorly; a fitting disposition for what he had to say.

'Mr Bush died, Sir. I'm terribly sorry.' Hornblower didn't even have time to digest the news before Matthews dropped dead at his feet. His eyes were open but unseeing as he lay in front of Horatio. He jumped up to help him, but a hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

'It's fine now, he is going to be alright.' The Guest's voice was calm, consoling.

Horatio sat back and gave himself over to the pain. No arms were holding him this time, but the strangely cold side of his companion that was pushed against his torso reminded him that he wasn't alone. By the small hours everyone was dead on the vessel, only the two of them kept a silent vigil.

Dawn broke the horizon and the first ray of sunshine unveiled a dismal scene on the ship.

'He is a good man, you know.' The young man's voice was like a drop of water for Horatio who has been spending far too much time in the desert of his empty mind.

'Who is?' he asked, confused.

'William,' the Guest explained. 'I didn't tell you, because I was afraid you would leave me. I couldn't risk losing you.'

Horatio shook his head, still not understanding what the Guest was saying.

'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, for God's sakes Horatio, would you open your eyes at last?' He was laughing, heartily – a profane sound that enveloped him and the dead as well.

The stranger pushed his hand in the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his handkerchief. The white material was stained with blood. His laughter turned into a choking cough and his chin was painted red as the blood ran out of his mouth in tiny streams.

Horatio could see it now and wondered how he was so blind.

'I know your name,' he told the young man while he wiped his mouth with the handkerchief.

'I expect you do.' Archie smacked him on the shoulder.

'But… but… how can you be here? You died.' Horatio asked, bemused.

'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio…' Archie quoted and he flashed a cheeky smile at him.

'Oh, you…' Horatio beamed back at him, and forgetting their tragic surroundings, he pulled Archie close. His lips were cold, but it was Archie; his smell, his taste, his touch. Horatio thought if this was heaven, God had a strange kind of humor.

Archie, although reluctantly, pulled away from him much sooner than Horatio would have liked.

'We don't have much time now,' he warned.

'Time before what?' Hornblower demanded.

Archie showed his profile to him. 'Until you die.' It was a simple but a harsh reminder.

Hornblower couldn't follow him. 'What is this place?' he wanted to know.

Archie shrugged his shoulders. 'In between?' It was more of a question than a statement.

'I don't want to die,' Hornblower said, and he took Archie's hand in his. 'Not right now.'

'Death is peaceful, you know…' Archie reassured him, reminding him of what Horatio himself told his friend mere hours before.

'We don't have more time. You must not be angry with him, Horatio. It wasn't William's fault. If it was anyone's, it was mine. I should have told you, I should have…' He paused, bowed his head and smiled his tired smile. 'Please give him my greetings when you see him.'

'Archie, you just said I'm about to die…'

'Oh, am I not silly, Horatio?' This time he was the one who planted a sweet kiss on Hornblower's lips. The captain closed his eyes to appreciate the moment more. 'Have I mentioned that death is peaceful? It's just like falling asleep,' Kennedy explained, and he was laughing again, his sweet merriment was ringing in Horatio's ear. Then he was quoting something, this time not Shakespeare, so unlike Archie:

'The man hath penance done,

And penance more will do.'

By the time Hornblower opened his eyes he was alone on the ship, only the dead remained.

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Beloved from pole to pole!

Archie wasn't wrong about death, it is like going to sleep. He gives himself up to it just minutes after the man is gone. He is wrapped in a blanket of darkness, but the fever isn't gone in death. It still rages through his system, still leaves him queasy and quivery. He is feeling uncomfortable now, as if he was underwater and the water is boiling around him. He is swimming upwards, he is working hard with his limbs to get himself above the surface… and at last he arrives.

Horatio opens his eyes and he is in his cabin again. Death doesn't seem to have much development on life. Someone stirs on the bed next to him and a white line floats into Hornblower's vision. Someone calls his name.

'… You are awake.'

Horatio rubs his eyes and finally he is able to recognize the face on the pillow.

'William!' he hesitates to move, but the other man pulls him to his chest immediately. 'You are alive…' Hornblower whispers.

'Of course I am! God, Horatio you had me fretting for days.'

His head is bandaged, but he is very much alive, Horatio notes. He reaches for William's head and lays a palm over the white material.

William takes his hand in his and kisses his palm. 'Think nothing of it, I'm feeling better now.'

'It was my fault.' Horatio breathes, the remorse in his voice is palpable. 'William, I'm sorry, I am so glad you are here! You were dead…'

William is looking at him with concern now. He runs a hand up his hair, cups the base of his skull.

'I was never dead. My skull is harder than you think' he rubs the back of Horatio's head skilfully, making him relax. The young man closes his eyes for a moment and sighs.

'I had a dream' he starts…

'He loved the bird that loved the man

Who shot him with his bow.'

…Bush quotes amusedly after Hornblower tells him about his dream. 'Horatio, your mind is a curious thing. You met Archie, huh?'

'I'm telling you, William… He told me to to give you his regards…' Horatio goes on, serious, he wants Bush to believe him.

'I don't doubt your word, Horatio, please don't mistake me' Bush assures his young lover who looks restless; the last thing he should be while running a temperature. 'I'm sure everything you say happened to you in your dream'.

'Then why are you looking at me so incredulously?' The young captain wished to know.

Bush gave him a lopsided smile. Hornblower knew he didn't give those easily and certainly not to anyone. The older man kissed him without any explanation, but Hornblower didn't mind; he placed himself closer to William on the pillow and gave himself up to him.

Bush pulled away in a minute and got up from the bed. He walked to the table in the corner and lifted up a thin little book, its cover emerald green. He tossed it on the duvet so Horatio could take a look at it.

'I was reading this to you, while you were asleep.' Bush shook his head and let out an amused little huff.

Horatio pulled his thumb over the golden letters on the cover. His mind was putting the puzzle together piece by piece.

By the time he got the whole picture together, Bush was leaning above him in his shirtsleeves and was dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth.

'The men are alright, right?' Horatio asked, just to be sure.

'Right as rain,' William nodded. 'Only you came down with this fever and now I suspect it is your conscience we can blame for it.'

'I still feel dreadful about sending you up there.' Horatio squirmed a bit as he didn't like the cold cloth on his skin at the moment.

'I think you suffered enough for it.' Bush pulled the cloth away and used his hand to cool his forehead. 'You made yourself suffer. But no more of that. Know that there are no hard feelings from my side. You are important to me, Captain.'

'And you to me, Mr. Bush.' Horatio smiled. 'Archie would be glad to know we get along splendidly.' he added.

'That he would be.'

As Horatio wanted to crack open the book in his hand, Bush snatched it away from him.

'Uh-uh,' he warned. 'You had enough of the Mariner today. You need proper rest. When I come back from the deck, I want to see you asleep.' He kissed the young man's forehead and left the room with the book in his hand.

Horatio fell asleep quickly, and this time he saw gentler dreams.