Title: Your Shadow
Part: 1/3
Spoilers: Retribution, and pretty much every one that comes before it, which is all of them.
Rating: PG-13 and that's only because it speaks of death a such. There is noo smut, no need to fear!
Summary: After Archie's death, Horatio can't sleep, and the lack of sleep effects what he is doing. And seeing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, I do wish that Jamie Bamber WAS mine. mmm.
AN: Yay. Angst. How we love thee. Hmm. It's not too slashy, though there is a little implied, but only as much as is implied in "Retribution" (like when Archie mumbles "Horatio" in his sleep, hehe), so don't whine if you want more slash, or it you want less. This is angst, man, angst, so get over it! Please R & R!
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Captain Horatio Hornblower of HMS Retribution stood stiff as ever upon the deck of his newly acquired ship. He was not the officer of the watch, but Mr. Hurts, the third Lieutenant, looked ready to fall asleep on his feet, so he had taken over for him. It was dark, and the sea was unsettled, causing the froth to leap just a little over the side to wet Horatio's feet. He ignored the dampness taking over his boots, and kept still on his lookout, not daring to think.
For, he found, thinking meant remembering. And remembering was not something that he wanted to do. It had been a full five days since the trail, a full five days since he had heard Archie Kennedy's last words: See? All better already.
Horatio shivered slightly, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. In those five days he had slept very little. Even less that he had when serving continuous watch under Mr. Sawyer. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, he just couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, Archie's face would loom into his vision, his smile taking over his mind. His laugh, oh that laugh that even in his dying bed he had been sure to keep, that laugh was all he could hear. And that last conversation . . . Those last few words. Oh, how they tortured him. Playing again and again and again in his mind.
It was his fault Archie was dead. His fault, and only his fault. And he had lost his best friend because of his own stupidity.
If they hadn't talked . . . if they had allowed Sawyer to go on in his madness, then he would have never fallen down the hole. Never had his power taken. Never had pushed Mr. Buckland into the Captain's seat. Never made that stupid attack. Never taken those prisoners on the boat. Never have gotten Archie killed.
And stupid, stupid Horatio had not even noticed. He was too caught up with politics, making sure he was going to come out fine, than going to see Archie, to make sure he was all right.
Horatio's muscles tensed on the deck. Everyone else might forgive him his mistakes, but Horatio would never forget. He was his own worst enemy.
"Horatio?"
It was First Lieutenant Bush. He had walked up behind his captain, and Horatio hadn't even noticed.
"Yes, Mr. Bush?" Horatio said, trying not to show that the man had surprised him. Bush walked up beside him, just slightly shorter from the limp that would never go away.
"On watch again, sir? You've been on it straight for almost - "
"I like it here, Mr. Bush." Horatio interrupted. Bush only nodded, looking to the point on the far horizon that both their eyes were focusing on.
"I meant no disrespect, Sir." He said finally, "I was just wondering if you would mind me joining you."
Horatio had to hold the smile in. "It would be an honour, Mr. Bush." They were silent for a time; the only sound the froth of the waves hitting the deck, washing the new paint clean.
"Can't sleep?" Mr. Bush asked finally, his eyes not moving from the horizon.
"Never can." Horatio said quietly.
"Horatio . . ." Bush lowered his head slightly, looking at the patch of deck nearest his feet, "You owe Archie too much to do this."
Horatio stiffened slightly. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Bush."
"You know very well what I mean, Mr. Hornblower." The formality was gone from Bush's voice now, and he looked up at Horatio, "He didn't die for you so that you could fritter away your life with worry."
"He didn't die for me, sir." Horatio's tongue was like acid, and he trembled slightly as he spoke, "He died because of me."
A sharp jolt of pain on Horatio's cheek caused him to stagger, and when he looked up, Bush was staring fiercely at him.
"I will not have you demean him so." Bush said, his voice equally acidic. "He gave everything to clear your name, and you are the last person in the world who should damn him so."
Horatio didn't reply, raising his hand to touch his burning cheek, the dull surprise stopping him from responding.
"You will get some rest, sir," Bush said spitefully, but Horatio could hear the concern behind the voice, "And you will stop blaming yourself for Archie's death. It was best, do you hear me? He knew it, I knew it, and now you must know it too." He paused, and then continued, his voice softer, "Nothing can bring him back, Horatio. But you will scar him if you don't fight for what he gave you."
Horatio was silent for a long period of time, until he nodded slowly. "I assume you will take the watch?" He said quietly.
Bush only let a small smile escape to his lips before he nodded, and Horatio turned away to his cabin.
Horatio lay in the dark for what must have been hours. Whenever his eyes closed, all he could see were two lifeless blue eyes staring back at him. He lay in a damp sweat, tying to make himself so tired that he would fall into a dreamless sleep. However, try as he might, it wasn't working. He sighed deeply, and sat up.
And that's when he saw him.
Horatio nearly fell out of his bunk, as his eyes landed on the man standing at the end of the room.
Third Lieutenant Archie Kennedy smiled, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his uniform, but the jacket and waistcoat were open, the white shirt under it dyed with his own red blood.
"A-archie?" He stammered, unable to believe it.
The young man's eyes twinkled, as he walked towards him.
"Of course not, Horatio, I'm Captain Pellew, with a neat new disguise, and a bull whip ready to beat you back into shape." He laughed, that same laugh that had been haunting Horatio for five days.
"You're . . . you're not real . . ." Horatio stammered, his mind reeling.
"Oh, come on man, of course I'm not real. Daft, that's what you are."
"But . . . but . . ."
"Captain Hornblower, Sir!!"
Archie's image was shattered as Matthews suddenly broke in through the door, breathing heavily, his boson's hat tipped at a dangerous angle.
"Captain, sir!!" He repeated franticly.
"What is it, Matthews?" Horatio said, trying to shake the image of Archie out of his mind.
"French corvettes, sir! And gaining quickly!"
Horatio leaped out of his bunk, all thoughts of Archie gone from his mind as he grabbed his hat and jacket and ran back up on deck.
"How many guns, Mr. Bush?" Horatio yelled to the First Lieutenant.
"30 on each, sir! They're on full sail and gaining quickly!!"
"That's 60 to our 32. Even chance, eh Mr. Bush!"
"Very even, sir!"
"Have they spotted our colours yet, Mr. Matthews?"
The boson had no time to answer, as a cannonball struck the water dangerously close to the stern, causing the water to leap up onto the deck.
"I would guess so, sir!" He finally answered.
"OPEN PORTS!" Horatio cried over the noise, as men rushed back and forth to do his bidding.
The Midshipmen and the lieutenants ran for they're men, loading the cannonballs and readying the canons.
"FIRE AT WILL!" Horatio cried, and then heard several of the officer's shout: "Fire!"
The explosions rocked the ship, and Horatio's hand went to the rail to steady himself as a cannonball hit the deck, showering splinters in all directions.
"HER HULL!! CRIPPLE HER, DAMMIT!!" He screamed, as the canons blasted away to comply with his order. Suddenly a cannonball hit the bridge of one of the French corvettes, and a huge ball of flame engulfed the ship. A cheer went up from the men, as they turned their sights to the second corvette.
"She's going to board us!!" The cry came from somewhere, and Horatio recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.
"PREPARE FOR BOARDING!" he cried, and suddenly the ship slammed their sides together, the French leaping from the rigging to crash onto the deck of the Retribution.
"CHARGE!!"
Part: 1/3
Spoilers: Retribution, and pretty much every one that comes before it, which is all of them.
Rating: PG-13 and that's only because it speaks of death a such. There is noo smut, no need to fear!
Summary: After Archie's death, Horatio can't sleep, and the lack of sleep effects what he is doing. And seeing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, I do wish that Jamie Bamber WAS mine. mmm.
AN: Yay. Angst. How we love thee. Hmm. It's not too slashy, though there is a little implied, but only as much as is implied in "Retribution" (like when Archie mumbles "Horatio" in his sleep, hehe), so don't whine if you want more slash, or it you want less. This is angst, man, angst, so get over it! Please R & R!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Horatio Hornblower of HMS Retribution stood stiff as ever upon the deck of his newly acquired ship. He was not the officer of the watch, but Mr. Hurts, the third Lieutenant, looked ready to fall asleep on his feet, so he had taken over for him. It was dark, and the sea was unsettled, causing the froth to leap just a little over the side to wet Horatio's feet. He ignored the dampness taking over his boots, and kept still on his lookout, not daring to think.
For, he found, thinking meant remembering. And remembering was not something that he wanted to do. It had been a full five days since the trail, a full five days since he had heard Archie Kennedy's last words: See? All better already.
Horatio shivered slightly, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. In those five days he had slept very little. Even less that he had when serving continuous watch under Mr. Sawyer. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, he just couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, Archie's face would loom into his vision, his smile taking over his mind. His laugh, oh that laugh that even in his dying bed he had been sure to keep, that laugh was all he could hear. And that last conversation . . . Those last few words. Oh, how they tortured him. Playing again and again and again in his mind.
It was his fault Archie was dead. His fault, and only his fault. And he had lost his best friend because of his own stupidity.
If they hadn't talked . . . if they had allowed Sawyer to go on in his madness, then he would have never fallen down the hole. Never had his power taken. Never had pushed Mr. Buckland into the Captain's seat. Never made that stupid attack. Never taken those prisoners on the boat. Never have gotten Archie killed.
And stupid, stupid Horatio had not even noticed. He was too caught up with politics, making sure he was going to come out fine, than going to see Archie, to make sure he was all right.
Horatio's muscles tensed on the deck. Everyone else might forgive him his mistakes, but Horatio would never forget. He was his own worst enemy.
"Horatio?"
It was First Lieutenant Bush. He had walked up behind his captain, and Horatio hadn't even noticed.
"Yes, Mr. Bush?" Horatio said, trying not to show that the man had surprised him. Bush walked up beside him, just slightly shorter from the limp that would never go away.
"On watch again, sir? You've been on it straight for almost - "
"I like it here, Mr. Bush." Horatio interrupted. Bush only nodded, looking to the point on the far horizon that both their eyes were focusing on.
"I meant no disrespect, Sir." He said finally, "I was just wondering if you would mind me joining you."
Horatio had to hold the smile in. "It would be an honour, Mr. Bush." They were silent for a time; the only sound the froth of the waves hitting the deck, washing the new paint clean.
"Can't sleep?" Mr. Bush asked finally, his eyes not moving from the horizon.
"Never can." Horatio said quietly.
"Horatio . . ." Bush lowered his head slightly, looking at the patch of deck nearest his feet, "You owe Archie too much to do this."
Horatio stiffened slightly. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Bush."
"You know very well what I mean, Mr. Hornblower." The formality was gone from Bush's voice now, and he looked up at Horatio, "He didn't die for you so that you could fritter away your life with worry."
"He didn't die for me, sir." Horatio's tongue was like acid, and he trembled slightly as he spoke, "He died because of me."
A sharp jolt of pain on Horatio's cheek caused him to stagger, and when he looked up, Bush was staring fiercely at him.
"I will not have you demean him so." Bush said, his voice equally acidic. "He gave everything to clear your name, and you are the last person in the world who should damn him so."
Horatio didn't reply, raising his hand to touch his burning cheek, the dull surprise stopping him from responding.
"You will get some rest, sir," Bush said spitefully, but Horatio could hear the concern behind the voice, "And you will stop blaming yourself for Archie's death. It was best, do you hear me? He knew it, I knew it, and now you must know it too." He paused, and then continued, his voice softer, "Nothing can bring him back, Horatio. But you will scar him if you don't fight for what he gave you."
Horatio was silent for a long period of time, until he nodded slowly. "I assume you will take the watch?" He said quietly.
Bush only let a small smile escape to his lips before he nodded, and Horatio turned away to his cabin.
Horatio lay in the dark for what must have been hours. Whenever his eyes closed, all he could see were two lifeless blue eyes staring back at him. He lay in a damp sweat, tying to make himself so tired that he would fall into a dreamless sleep. However, try as he might, it wasn't working. He sighed deeply, and sat up.
And that's when he saw him.
Horatio nearly fell out of his bunk, as his eyes landed on the man standing at the end of the room.
Third Lieutenant Archie Kennedy smiled, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing his uniform, but the jacket and waistcoat were open, the white shirt under it dyed with his own red blood.
"A-archie?" He stammered, unable to believe it.
The young man's eyes twinkled, as he walked towards him.
"Of course not, Horatio, I'm Captain Pellew, with a neat new disguise, and a bull whip ready to beat you back into shape." He laughed, that same laugh that had been haunting Horatio for five days.
"You're . . . you're not real . . ." Horatio stammered, his mind reeling.
"Oh, come on man, of course I'm not real. Daft, that's what you are."
"But . . . but . . ."
"Captain Hornblower, Sir!!"
Archie's image was shattered as Matthews suddenly broke in through the door, breathing heavily, his boson's hat tipped at a dangerous angle.
"Captain, sir!!" He repeated franticly.
"What is it, Matthews?" Horatio said, trying to shake the image of Archie out of his mind.
"French corvettes, sir! And gaining quickly!"
Horatio leaped out of his bunk, all thoughts of Archie gone from his mind as he grabbed his hat and jacket and ran back up on deck.
"How many guns, Mr. Bush?" Horatio yelled to the First Lieutenant.
"30 on each, sir! They're on full sail and gaining quickly!!"
"That's 60 to our 32. Even chance, eh Mr. Bush!"
"Very even, sir!"
"Have they spotted our colours yet, Mr. Matthews?"
The boson had no time to answer, as a cannonball struck the water dangerously close to the stern, causing the water to leap up onto the deck.
"I would guess so, sir!" He finally answered.
"OPEN PORTS!" Horatio cried over the noise, as men rushed back and forth to do his bidding.
The Midshipmen and the lieutenants ran for they're men, loading the cannonballs and readying the canons.
"FIRE AT WILL!" Horatio cried, and then heard several of the officer's shout: "Fire!"
The explosions rocked the ship, and Horatio's hand went to the rail to steady himself as a cannonball hit the deck, showering splinters in all directions.
"HER HULL!! CRIPPLE HER, DAMMIT!!" He screamed, as the canons blasted away to comply with his order. Suddenly a cannonball hit the bridge of one of the French corvettes, and a huge ball of flame engulfed the ship. A cheer went up from the men, as they turned their sights to the second corvette.
"She's going to board us!!" The cry came from somewhere, and Horatio recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.
"PREPARE FOR BOARDING!" he cried, and suddenly the ship slammed their sides together, the French leaping from the rigging to crash onto the deck of the Retribution.
"CHARGE!!"
