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How long the battle lasted was not certain, but by the time it was over, everyone had the typical scrapes and bruises that usually went with a fight. It was actually very enjoyable, despite that, however -- a chance to act as boys do, instead of the stiff formalities of men, and to cut loose on those who would not be angry for it when they awaken with stiff bodies. If anything, they all had that much in common; age hadn't deprived them of innocent rough housing, or the ability to laugh off whatever minor aches they would suffer for it.
James stood finally, pulling himself from the tangled pile from which there was no winner and went to brushing his shirt off. "Do we admit draw, gentlemen, or should this battle for honor continue?"
Leaning back against the wall, panting and wiping some blood from his mouth, Archie chuckled, "Honor? And here I thought it was for our lives."
"By God, you're right!" Moody exclaimed, checking to make sure all of his teeth were intact.
Lowe followed him to his feet, tilting his head back to stop his nose from bleeding. After a moment, he was able to look back down and say, "If you hadn't become disobedient, this thrashing wouldn't have had to happen."
Moving up from the bottom of the pile, Horatio winced and tried to work the aches out of his neck. He was none worse for the wear other than that, however.
"You're right, Mr. Lowe," the younger lieutenant grinned, "if only you'd have submitted."
"To you, you impudent little whelp?!" Lowe cried, indignantly. "I would rather bed that innkeeper below, and if you want we can continue this." To emphasize his point, he put his fists up, both red-knuckled and scored with light scratches. It didn't take much time for any of them to realize that Kennedy and Lowe were the fiercest fighters, even in play, and had typically ended up beating on each other without paying a whole lot of mind to Moody and Hornblower.
"The same innkeeper who's probably wondering how badly we've destroyed his room," James chuckled.
"If you care to show your taste, that's just fine. As for a continuation, perhaps you should reconsider," Kennedy smirked, standing. "Been through too much to lose a fight to someone who's not even born in my time."
"And lose you would," Lowe growled, though not taking any of the insults to heart.
Moving over to sit on one of the beds, Horatio laughed, breaking in, "Let's not hurt ourselves too badly, gentlemen, we might need our wits for a real fight sooner or later."
Moody grinned, taking a moment to retreat to the bathroom and clean his knuckles off. Lowe sat down opposite Horatio, smiling to himself. "I'll say, it's been a long time since I could get into a mix."
"And you do quite well, if I might say so. I'd be glad to have you on my side of a battle any day." Offering a slightly wavering hand, he couldn't help but laugh.
Harold shook it, giving him a formal nod of thanks. "The same to you, sir."
"Please, don't call me sir... It's Horatio."
"Horatio." Lowe nodded. "And I'm Harold... or Harry. Anything but Baby-Face will do."
Moody snickered from the bathroom, but didn't comment.
"Does that mean I can call Horatio Baby-Face?" Archie grinned.
"No, Mr. Kennedy, you cannot," Hornblower replied, shaking his head.
James finally jumped in, "Don't worry, he'll have to suffer that enough due to his resemblance to Harry. No use making him suffer it with friends."
"Of course, Mr. Moody, you're quite right. I suppose I'll just settle to call him something akin to the backend of a mule." Laughing, the young lieutenant checked to see if his lip had stopped bleeding yet.
"How about that, Mr. Hornblower?" Moody snickered, walking back out and looking like he hadn't been in much of a fight to begin with. "Jackass. I would have to say, Baby-Face would almost be better."
Rubbing at the back of his neck, he winced slightly before replying, "Perhaps so, but I'm sure there are quite a few names that would be more scathing towards Archie over there, than jackass is to myself."
"The Unbearded Lady perhaps," Lowe commented, offhand.
"Ah, but that's nothing coming from the men who were bedded by the Queen Mum." Archie snickered, cuffing up his sleeves.
Lowe raised an eyebrow, looking at Horatio in confusion. James looked just as baffled, though he had a sneaking suspicion that it would work in his favor anyway.
"Bedded by the Queen Mum?" Horatio asked, incredulously.
"Well, as far as that innkeeper knows, yes." Finishing one arm, the young officer moved on to the other.
"You didn't..." Lowe mumbled, actually looking caught off guard.
James had it all together by then and was consumed in laughter. "You did!"
"Was I to just let you get away with your quip and have a chuckle? I think perhaps that would have been weak of me." Taking a moment, Kennedy blew into his hands. "Don't you think so, Mr. Moody?"
Moody forced himself to composure, answering quite formally, "I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Kennedy."
"And you really think Harry and I will let you get away with that?" Horatio asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Archie.
"On the contrary, I've already gotten away with it," the younger man grinned.
Lowe found a smile somewhere, though the idea of the Queen Mum was enough to make his stomach turn. "Maybe, but there's always vengeance."
"Quite true, yes. And there's always the same for us." Letting out a slight yawn, Archie rested his arms on his knees and looked to Moody. "So, what now?"
"I suppose we try to find out how to get back to where we should be," Jimmy said, sitting down next to Lowe. There was so much to think about in regard to the Titanic that he almost hesitated to go back into that line of thought. "There must be some extraordinary force causing this."
Horatio nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Or perhaps just some odd dream."
"We can only hope." Lowe flopped back on the bed, eyeing the ceiling with a distant look.
Sitting quietly, the young Mr. Kennedy let his mind wander back to the street where he read the numbers and the names. Fifteen hundred people were going to die, including the man who had cared enough to tell him he was going to end up dying for the sake of Horatio and the crew he worked with. Shaking his head, he accidentally let his thoughts slip out in quiet spoken words, "We have to keep it from happening..."
"If we can get back in the first place," Harold muttered. The situation was enough to frustrate him, and he hated sitting idly by, unable to even show his face much at this point for fear of being recognized by former shipmates.
"We will, if the newspaper reads right. Was the morning of the 11th, right?" Moody asked, glancing over his shoulder at Lowe.
"Yes. Round and about three in the morning."
"So we went from morning of the 11th, to some time none of us are sure of, to today, which is the 18th." Moody stood, pacing around with a furrowed brow and a look of concentration. "Titanic went down on the morning of the 15th and took 1500 people with her. The report said I was there, so I have to get back somehow."
"It didn't exactly say that you were there. Just that you weren't rescued," Archie attempted, somewhat pitifully.
"It also didn't mention that Mr. Lowe went down with the ship," James countered.
"How would I have gotten off the ship before you?" Lowe sat up suddenly, agitated. "It makes no sense! You're the junior-most officer -- by rights, you should have been the first officer off of the ship. And certainly before Mr. Lightoller."
"We don't know how he survived."
"No, but I doubt luck saved him, Mr. Pitman, Mr. Boxhall and myself."
"Maybe I did make it off," James persisted, trying to look at every option, "and something happened between the time she sank and the time that Carpathia arrived."
Horatio finally broke into the conversation, "I don't think that speculating will do us much good when so many things could have happened."
Kennedy looked up from his spot against the wall, looking over Hornblower's face in search of some sign of emotion. "And we're just supposed to sit here and accept it? I can't do that..."
Raising a questioning eyebrow at the speaker, Horatio put his hands behind his back. "Could I possibly have a word with you in private, Mr. Kennedy?"
Looking down in a look that neared defeat, he nodded and pulled himself to his feet. "Certainly, sir."
"If you'll excuse us, gentlemen?" The older lieutenant asked, looking first to Moody, then Lowe.
"Certainly," Lowe answered. Moody nodded, giving Archie a look of mild worry, but he didn't say anything.
Nodding to them both in appreciation, he waited for Kennedy to move out the door, then followed him out into the hallway. Moving past the Fourth Lieutenant, he stepped down in front of the door to their own room and leaned back against it, crossing his arms. "All right, out with it."
Archie stood across from him, once again looking over his companion's face for some telltale sign of what might be on his mind. "Out with what, Horatio?"
"Well, Archie," Hornblower continued, enunciating his friends name a little heavier than usual, "forgive me if I'm wrong, but you seem to be quite determined to go and save this ship that we know nothing about."
Looking down at the ground, he kicked at the planked floors lightly. "Can't I be concerned?"
"Of course you can be concerned, but you look as if you're willing to get between the ship and the iceberg! We're supposed to be back on the Renown, and if you get killed in the midst of this whole mess, not only will the crew back home suffer, but I'll have lost my best friend." Horatio sighed slightly, fidgeting for the moment of silence that followed his words.
"What matter is it if I die here or back in our own time?" The words were quiet, but Kennedy certainly had some bitter tone in his voice.
Frowning, the older man stood straight, looking over his friend with a suspicious air to him. Letting his eyebrows knit together, he took a step forward. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sighing audibly, Archie shook his head and crossed his arms as well. "Never mind."
"Never mind nothing," Horatio insisted, putting his hands at his sides purposefully. "What did you mean by that, Mr. Kennedy?"
Finally raising his eyes to look his friend square in the face, Archie set his jaw before replying, "I meant nothing by it..." he paused, "...sir." Waiting for the look he expected, he was awarded with it when Horatio sighed heavily and let his eyes close in frustration. Taking the opportunity, he turned and moved down the hallway.
Realizing that the man he was questioning had just left, Hornblower cursed himself quietly and looked after him. "Archie, wait!" By the time he'd finished his words, Archie was already out of sight, presumably down the stairs. Sighing to himself, he shook his head, not sure if he should follow or not, leaning first his body back against the wall, then his head.
Back with the Titanic officers, silence had fallen thick and stifling. Moody was busy doing the best he could to clean out his uniform shirt, scrubbing away at the fabric over the basin. It served to keep him busy, his thoughts more or less on the task at hand, and he didn't allow himself to dwell too heavily on his own death or that of the ship he was assigned to.
Lowe, on the other hand, had nothing to occupy himself with, so his mind turned the situation over and over in a maddening cycle as he paced. He thought about the Titanic, and about the days in Belfast and then on the way to Southampton where he made one of the few truly good friends he had in his life. Perhaps the entire length of that friendship was a matter of weeks rather than years, and perhaps it might not have happened at all if he wasn't bored on his off time one evening and tagged along with James on the rounds, but now that he had a solid friend, he would be damned if he would give that up.
Harold's entire life was that of a sailor, it seemed. He had gone to sea young and brave, working his way through the ranks. Most of his runs had been along the coast of Africa, and briefly on the Australian track, but he had enjoyed that life -- a good deal of the time had been spent on schooners and other sailing vessels. In a way, he could relate well with Horatio and Archie for that fact alone... were it another time, a time where steam wasn't destroying the sailing industry, Lowe would have been content to stay on the ships of sheet and wood.
Casting his mind back, he remembered volunteering to re-rig a sail during a violent storm, citing that it wouldn't matter much to him if he died on the yard or on the deck. And such was true; he wasn't the least bit afraid to shimmy up the ratlines, or crawl out precariously onto the yard arm.
Truth be told, he had no real fear of dying on the Titanic or any other ship either. He knew that when the time came he would take it like a man.
None of that helped him now, though, as he stared into the face of a grinning death, and found that face not looking to him but to his friend instead. To Jimmy, who was only twenty-four, and who had a highly promising career ahead of him. Who always had a handy joke or a sympathetic ear, and who had made a friend in Harry with that sincerity and good-nature. It was much harder to swallow, and much more upsetting. If he was to live, it wasn't fair that Moody was to die.
Lowe cast a look at his friend, frowning to himself. "Coming clean?"
"Quite well," Moody answered, offhand, as he hung the shirt up to dry. "How d'you suppose the other two are doing?"
"I haven't a clue, but it seemed pretty grim when they left."
"I hope they work it out..."
Harold nodded, finally sitting down again and hopefully resolving himself to think of other things. "Me too. Nothing quite like being in the middle of a quarrel."
The air outside was slightly chilly, but that didn't bother Archie as he stood at the edge of the water, overlooking the ocean ahead of him. He hadn't really meant to be short with his friend, but between finding out that he was going to die and Jimmy was as well, he wasn't able to stay in his right mind. Why should Horatio question his actions? They were his alone, and even though the older man was still his superior, Kennedy didn't feel that off of the ship he would have to answer for himself. Looking back, though, he realized that perhaps he was the wrong party in the whole confrontation.
Sighing, the young Fourth Lieutenant sat down on the edge of the dock and let his mind wander. It hadn't been until he let the words sink in, and realized just exactly how many people would go down when the Titanic sank, that he couldn't help but shudder. A death at sea is something a sailor accepts, and even expects, but most of these people weren't sailors. Heck, many of them probably had never even crossed an ocean before, and would never again.
Fifteen hundred people even wouldn't have been so bad if Archie didn't know that there were women and children among them... and the man he had grown to become friends with in such a short time. It angered him to see James so calm and collected about death, and he almost envied the Sixth Officer for it. He had tried to be strong when Jimmy had told him about his own death, but Kennedy was still afraid, deep down inside. He didn't want to bring shame to his family, but if what was said turns out to be true, he would have to sacrifice himself for Horatio's career. He would at least know then that something good would come out of the whole situation.
He had been sitting on the dock quite a while when he finally heard footsteps behind him, and looked over to see Horatio sit down, his uniform jacket back on to serve against the cold. Giving his friend a slight smile, Archie then looked back out over the water. "Hey."
"Hey," Hornblower replied, typically, resting his hands on the dock. "Mind if I join you?"
"Already sat down, didn't you?" Kennedy couldn't help but laugh a bit, shaking his head. "Sure."
Horatio nodded, doing his best to relax and take in what sunlight he could. England wasn't exactly known for her sunny days, so he was certainly going to take advantage of it. Letting them both remain silent, he trained his eyes on the horizon before finally speaking again, "I'm sorry for questioning you, up there. I'm sure what ever is wrong is none of my business."
"Actually, to be honest, it could almost be said that you are the business, and it was your right to question me," Archie replied, leaning back on the dock and allowing his elbows to support him and he squinted in the sunlight.
"What do you mean I am the business?"
"Well," the younger man continued, "you see, when you and Mr. Lowe were sleeping at the other inn Jimmy told me that at some point I'm going to die for the sake of the ship, but I won't have my name when I do." He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, and hoped futilely it was good enough.
Hornblower frowned, trying to take in the words as they came to him. Letting his face turn to a dour expression, he looked over at Archie. "That doesn't sound like you. I mean, not the first part, but how would you die without having your name intact?"
Kennedy made an attempt to shrug in the awkward position. "Not completely sure."
"Well, it doesn't seem right to me. Perhaps he's mistaken?" Hornblower's last few words came out more in a hopeful tone than a questioning, and he looked over at his companion.
"I don't think so, Horatio. He seems like a person who doesn't forget things when he commits them to memory. I believe him."
"You shouldn't," the older man replied, adamantly.
Shaking his head, Archie looked over the horizon, idly searching for any sails on the water without knowing he was doing it. "Well, I'm not going to dismiss the possibility, and I'm certainly not going to let him sit there and take death on so easily when he's the one that told me about my own. He told me so I could try to prevent it, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to try to do the same for him."
Hornblower nodded slightly, though disbelieving. "You hardly know him, though, Archie..."
"And he hardly knows me." Looking over at his friend, Kennedy raised a questioning eyebrow. "That didn't stop him, did it?"
Sighing, the Third Lieutenant reached up to rub his eyes, letting the conversation fall off to silence, which at that point was the most comfortable thing for both of them. As they did so, the chilly wind blew through their hair and strung their eyes, but neither were bothered by it, after having been on the sea for so much of their lives. Wind had become their friend over the years, and the telltale sign that said whether they were going to live or die, at times.
When Horatio finally came back to reality, he looked over to see Archie still lost in his own thoughts. Smiling slightly, he realized that no matter what he did, it was his friend's decision whether to fight the battle that could cost him his life, and the older man nodded. "Are you going to be all right, then?"
Snapping out of the light trance he was in, Kennedy looked over at his friend, slightly off-guard, and not quite sure where he was at the moment. Staring for a brief moment, he then blinked and nodded, "Yes," and then nodding again, he looked back over the water. "Yes, I think so."
"Well, just don't stay out here too long or you'll catch your--" Cutting himself off, Horatio, looked down at the ground for a moment. "You'll find yourself ill." Patting his friend on the back, he stood and brushed his uniform off, moving back towards the inn.
It was perhaps an hour later when the youngest of the four finally moved back into the inn. The sun was just leveling off in the center of the sky, and despite the chilly air, the sun had done some good to give the short man a slight sweat. So, returning inside, he was hoping to go upstairs and get cleaned up, only to find his way blocked by Harold Lowe with his arms crossed in front of him. "What's this I hear about you getting killed?"
"Horatio told you, did he?" Archie made an attempt to step past Lowe, only to be stopped once again.
Harry gave his companion a look that was affectionate, but still stern. "He did, and if he hadn't you and Jimmy would have kept it to yourselves."
Stepping back, Kennedy nodded and placed his hands behind his back. "Probably, yes."
"Why?" Lowe gestured forward and walked with the young lieutenant to a table.
Archie sat down at the table, immediately picking up the unlit candle to keep his hands from fidgeting. "Why not?"
"Well, we can do something about it. It was bad enough finding out about Jimmy from the bloody papers, but finding out about you through Horatio and having you act as if it's nothing?" Harold shook his head, sitting back in his chair.
"It is nothing," Kennedy insisted, picking at some wax and tossing it across the table.
"Well, it certainly doesn't seem like nothing to your friend up there that's been upset since he came inside," the older man replied, looking over at Archie.
"And that's why I really didn't want to tell him. He'll worry about me, but he shouldn't."
Sighing, Harold seemed to be frustrated. "And why shouldn't he?"
Archie looked over at him, setting the candle down and folding his hands in front of him. "Because everyone dies sooner or later, and knowing Horatio, he'll blame it on himself." Judging the emotion on his companion's face, he continued on with a sigh of his own, "Look, Harold, it doesn't bother me that it can happen. I joined His Majesty's Navy because I would rather die on a ship than sit in some office in the middle of the city."
"That doesn't make it any easier for us." Lowe nodded to the barkeeper as he brought some water for them both, and waiting until the cups were on the table and the man was gone before continuing, "I mean, we can't just sit by."
"It's nothing that couldn't have happened before. Both of us could have been killed countless different times; it just changes the circumstances when everyone knows about it."
Nodding, Harold sighed slightly, taking a sip of water. It seemed like things were getting worse and worse for the Fifth Officer. Looking over at Archie, he took a deep breath. "Well, forgive us if we worry, Mr. Kennedy."
"As you wish, Mr. Lowe," the younger man replied, standing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I should be getting back upstairs." Nodding amiably to Harry, he flashed a grin and moved away from the table to go upstairs.
Harold watched him go before leaning his elbows on the table and resting his face in his hands. The entire calamity was wearing him thin of patience and energy, leaving him irritable and tired. In the matter of two days, he had been yanked from his place on Titanic, thrown in with a twin of himself from the past, and now he had to face the fact that not only would his best friend die, but so would Horatio's.
Lowe was nearly at wits end. Normally he could do quite well with anything thrown his way, but this was well beyond his abilities. He knew that the ship was going to go down, that James was going to die, and that he had to get back there to stop it. Where Horatio and Archie came into it was completely a mystery, though he found himself getting more and more comfortable with their presence.
The sigh that escaped him was disheartened and heavy, as he looked back up. His already dark eyes looked even blacker than normal thanks to the half-circles under them brought on by stress, and he looked quite near as melancholy as he felt at that point. After another moment, he stood and went back upstairs, squaring his shoulders against the invisible weight that was pressing on them and trying to look more alive than he was feeling.
Moody glanced up when he came in, now re-sewing a button on his uniform jacket with thread and a needle he had found somewhere. It was mostly jesting when the younger man commented, "You look like hell."
"I feel like hell," Lowe answered, pacing for a moment before sitting down. "Damn you both, for being so accepting."
James flinched slightly at the tired epitaph, for even if it held no malice, it showed very well the depth of frustration his friend was suffering. "Harry, everyone dies. Whether it's of old age or on a sinking ship isn't of much consequence."
"Isn't it?! Good God, you've got everything to live for!" Lowe cried out, standing, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "You didn't want Archie to accept his fate, but you accept yours?!"
"His fate's far worse than mine, Harold," Moody said, quietly. "Besides, if we can't somehow prevent her going down, I would rather die there than later on of disease or age."
"You're a fool," Lowe murmured, dropping back on the bed like someone had taken every bit of energy from him. Almost to himself, he added, "I'm not going to let it happen."
"I'm not exactly wishing for it myself, you know," James pointed out, then tied the thread off and surveyed his handiwork.
"No, you're just too accepting of it. Too willing to sit there and say, 'Well, that's life and death, so I might as well not fight it.'"
"I have every intention of fighting it. But working myself up with worry isn't going to make the situation any better."
"I suppose you're right," Harold grumbled, though it was just barely conceding.
Moody shook his head, regarding his friend for a long moment before he pulled his uniform jacket on. "Of course I'm right."
"And conceited," Lowe added, smiling slightly.
"This coming from you? Arrogance personified?" James grinned wider still, sensing the shift in the air and making use of it. "You know, let he who's without sin cast the first stone."
Harold picked himself up to lean on his elbows, looking at the ground off the side of the bed. After a brief search, he let himself fall back with a devilish smirk. "Well, I'll have to wait until I get outside to find some stones, won't I?"
When Archie finally returned to his room, he noted that Horatio already had his uniform jacket off and was resting in bed. Looking over his friend, he noted the light breathing and dismissed Hornblower as sleeping as he picked up his own jacket off the bed he had chosen. Brushing the older uniform off, Kennedy couldn't help but worrying about everyone being so upset. Why should they worry if he and James weren't? He didn't look over the fact that Horatio cared for him, but sometimes he wished the slightly older man wouldn't. There were too many times in both their lives that Archie had unnecessarily risked Horatio's life, so he couldn't quite figure why they even stuck together.
Perhaps it was the fact that he thought of the Third Lieutenant more as a best friend than a superior, that made Kennedy smile when hearing of Hornblower's promotion. Despite the fact that Horatio had less seniority, he was the type of person the Royal Navy was looking for, and Archie dealt with that fact that he wasn't, and probably never would be. With a sigh and a sidelong glance at Horatio, he rested his uniform jacket over the back of the chair where the other officer's was laying. Then, carefully, he brushed some dust off of his hat and laid down on his own bed, rubbing his eyes.
Had he been honest to himself, he would have admitted that he felt like crying, but pride kept him from doing so, and he rested his arm over his eyes. It had been a long time since he had been off the water for such a great length of time, but he could still feel the swell of the waves and the rolling of the ship, even when he wasn't on the water. The feeling of being on the ocean was something that Kennedy was sure that he'd remember for a lifetime and there after. It was in his blood by then, and even if he was going to die, he would much rather it be on the ocean.
Taking a deep breath, Kennedy let out a slight whisper so as not to wake the other man, "Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."
"Shakespeare still has his name, Archie," Horatio replied just as quietly, surprising the younger man. He had a point, and he wasn't going to back down until he had proven it.
"That doesn't change the fact." Lifting his arm and resting it behind his head, he looked over at Hornblower. "You don't need to worry about me, Horatio."
Sighing deeply but leaving his eyes closed, the Third Lieutenant nodded. "And you don't need to worry about me, but you do. I'm not going to let you just take this on without your bloody guns loaded."
Chuckling lightly, Kennedy nodded. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll be kickin' and screamin' if Death does come after me. I have no intent on leaving until you know that I'm a better officer," the younger man jested, laughing and replacing his arm over his eyes.
"Glad to hear it," Horatio replied sincerely, smiling in the light of the room and letting the warmth pull him into a nice, mostly peaceful half-sleep. Somehow it was very comforting to know that Archie wasn't resigned to his fate.