Fate: Atropos

No, Horatio.

You mustn't blame yourself for this. I made this decision with my eyes and my heart open. I would have liked to live to see you Admiral of the Fleet, but fate had other ideas for the two of us. It's done. You saw the wound, Horatio, and you know I would never have survived, no matter how much you may have wanted it. It's my time to go, my friend, and this time you cannot go with me. You MUST not go with me.

Ah, Horatio. So stoic, so reserved. If anyone were watching us, they would think you were merely paying a courtesy call on a dying shipmate, that it didn't matter to you that I was gone. But I know you. I see the pain in those dark eyes, the grief you will let no other man see, the barely suppressed tears you struggle to hide. And I remember the times when you let me inside, when you put down your barriers and let me see the vulnerable, scared man behind the facade. The trust you showed in me then, Horatio, shook me to my core. Your friendship was the greatest gift I ever received, which is why I have no regrets about giving you this meager gift of my own.

I know you don't understand that my good name means nothing to me. After all, 'a rose by any other name....' I lived without the merit of that 'good name' for so long, aboard Justinian, that I never thought it would matter to me. Certainly, in those dark days as Jack Simpson's boy, I never dreamed that I would someday escape from the leers and taunts of the crew, the ostracizing by the other midshipmen. I do not blame them, for they were only protecting themselves. If Jack turned from me, he would have found someone else for his foul games, and I would not have wished that on any of them. Not even Hether. (!) Does that surprise you, Horatio? You of all men knew the depths that Simpson pushed me into, you alone knew the despair that drove me to try to end my life in Spain. You knew how badly I wanted it to end with Simpson. But never, Horatio, *never* at the cost of anyone else having to endure what I did, not even one time. Had he done more than beaten you, my friend, I would have killed him, somehow. Even if it had been a knife in the back as he slept, or slitting his throat in the dark, I would never let him do that to you. Thank god he never did.

I know that trust has never come easily to you, but you must learn to let others get close to you. I know what my passing has done to you, Horatio, and I know that you will lock this pain away inside of you, where no one can see it. Don't, Horatio. If you learned one thing from me, let it be that it is not a sign of weakness to allow others to help you, especially in times like this. You shouldn't be alone.

William Bush is a good man, even if he and I did get off to an uncomfortable start. He is not looking to take my place, Horatio. I think he knows that the bond we shared was much too strong and ran too deep for it to ever be replaced, but if you will let him in, he will be a good friend. Your friendship will be different than ours was. Ours was born of mutual suffering and adversity, and was formed when we were but children - not even yet young men - and strengthened through our ordeals in Spain, Muzillac, and finally aboard Renown. (And let us not forget those times in Portsmouth!) You are a grown man now, and I think you will come to lean on Bush and his experience. Let him be your friend, Horatio. It will not be a betrayal of our friendship. Instead, I think it will be a testament to it.

Bush is not your only friend, either. I suspect Commodore Pellew will always be there to lend you a helping hand, and you must remember to swallow that stubborn pride of yours, and accept his help when it is offered. We were very fortunate, you and I, when we left the rotting corpse of Justinian, and transferred to the Indy, with the finest captain in the fleet at her helm. I know that he held you in special regard, but I never held that against you, for I believe that he and I also reached a place of mutual understanding and respect. I know that he moved heaven and earth to keep us together when we left the Indy. We both owe him a great deal for that, and for so much more. He knows, Horatio. He knows that I did what I did in order that you might live, free of this shadow that hung over us all. Do not hold him to any blame for letting me speak my piece in court. He knew, as did I, that my fate was already sealed, but yours was not.

It's all right, Horatio. This is what I chose to do, the only way I could ever repay you for all you have done for me; for not abandoning me aboard Justinian; for not hating me for what I was and who I belonged to; for teaching me to have faith in myself and my abilities; for helping me to find those abilities; for caring for me during my fits and never looking away in embarrassment, as so many others did; for seeing something in me that was worth saving; for forcing me to take that first drink in El Ferrol; for trusting me to lead the men when you served your time in the oubliette; for making me face my fears at the bridge. For so many things, I owe you my life. And so, I give it back to you, freely and without reservation.

I'm not afraid anymore, Horatio. I'm free - for the first time in my life, I'm free from all the demons and the nightmares. No longer will shadows frighten me, or evil men tear my soul, and I have you to thank for that. You always believed in me, especially when I could not believe in myself, and our strength together was something that was truly phenomenal. I think we were a good balance - you helped me to become a better, stronger man, and I like to think that I helped you to become a more compassionate one. It's just too bad that, no matter how many attempts I made, I could never teach you how to tell a joke properly. Still, I suppose even the almighty Horatio Hornblower must have *some* faults. Well, one, certainly.

Time I was away, Horatio. I will not say goodbye, but only farewell, for I know now that we will one day be reunited. I've seen it, just as I have seen the glorious life you have ahead of you. You will have trials, yes, but you will always triumph in the end, and you will have the life you deserve, the life you came so close to losing. I'm already so proud of you. My one true friend. Know that always, I will be beside you, and I will live inside your heart. You have so much to look forward to, Horatio, and I myself am looking forward to watching you live your life to the fullest, and achieving the greatness that I know awaits you.

Do not grieve long for me, Horatio. Instead, rejoice in the life we lived together, and the friendship that bound us together for eternity. Know always that I loved you, as a friend and as a brother. My life is yours, my friend. Live it well. And when your time has come to join me, we will sail again together, our ship forever pointed toward the sun, our souls high and free atop the yardarm.

A new voyage awaits me, my friend. For now I sail alone, but not it will not be forever. Godspeed to you, my brother. I will watch over you as best I can, and I will weep with both joy and sorrow when it is our time to be reunited. I will wait for you, Horatio. I will wait for the man who is the other half of my soul, the man who is and will always be my best friend.

I have but one final request of you. Live, Horatio. Grasp your life with both hands, and *live*. If you truly wish to honor me, that is the only way to do it. Live for the two of us. And for god's sake, Horatio, please, at least try to be happy. Can you do that for me? I am who I am because of you, because you looked beyond the surface and found something worthwhile, buried deep inside. Keep me beside you, but do not wear my death as a millstone - instead, live and be happy. That is what I wish for you.

Farewell, my friend. We'll see each other again soon.