Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy.

AN: I wanted to go more into the history in the Horatio Hornblower books, so with takes place on the Lydia, which is one of Horatio's later ships. (I believe it's the one in Beat to Quarters, though I could be wrong, and forgive me if I am.) Also, I'm sure the dates are wrong, but I'm sure I shall be forgiven. It is *SLASH*, though only as much as they suggest in the books themselves (which is obvious to anyone looking for it, really).

~*~

BLUE EYES AND BLOOD

Chapter 1

Moonlit Icecaps

Lieutenant William Bush drew his cloak in closer around him, digging his face into his scarf. The icy wind pierced through blood and bone on the quarterdeck, but Bush was determined to stand still on his watch for his captain. He had never seen the North Atlantic before, and had a feeling that his captain had not either, but didn't ever bother to ask. Mr. Dawson, a young midshipman who reminded Bush very much of one Mr. Wellard, was looking out over the sea at the floating mountains of ice. It was odd, Bush reflected, to see them; giant white mounds protruding from the sea. It was somehow . . . unnatural. And yet it was too beautiful to put into words. So he didn't try.

His captain, Horatio Hornblower, was somewhere below decks, and Bush hoped he was sleeping. His captain slept very little while he was worrying, and he knew that his captain had much to worry about.

A band of pirates had claimed the waters between Britain and Halifax, and the Admiralty had sent Hornblower out to stop them. The only question now was, how?

Bush rubbed the sleep from his eyes and shifted his cloak. It was late, and his watch was nearly completed. Just one more bell until he would be able to collapse into his hammock. Just one more. . .

"Good evening, Mr. Bush."

The sound startled Bush, and he turned quickly to see Hornblower emerging from the hold. A smile came to his lips before he could stop it.

"Evening, sir."

Hornblower, however, did not seem happy. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes held a deep sadness... Bush cocked an eyebrow at his captain, wondering what had upset him.

"Do you know what day it is, Mr. Bush?" Horatio finally asked.

Bush shook his head, confusion slowly slipping in. "October the fifth, sir."

"October the fifth . . ." Horatio repeated slowly, and then understanding slowly dawned onto Bush's mind.

"How many years has it been, sir?"

"Too many. Too many that he could have spent with us, and yet didn't." Horatio had started quietly, but had ended up bitter. Bush didn't reply as quick flashes of memory went across his mind. Blue eyes, cliff tops, a smile, and blood. Those were always the things that reminded him of Archie. Bush, however, had only known him a very short time, and he imagined that Horatio had many more things that linked to their old friend. Bush only hoped that he also would be so remembered after he was gone. He knew, in some vague way, that Hornblower would outlive him, if only because his captain must be immortal.

"I think..." Hornblower continued, startling Bush out of his thoughts, "That Archie would have like icebergs. Don't you think?"

Bush looked out at the mountains of ice, and nodded. "I think he would have appreciated them, sir."

"Very true..."

Bush watched his captain, his idol, as he looked out at the ice, the dark shade beneath his eyes more than a trick of the light, and the murky depths of his irises sorrowful. This, Bush thought to himself, Is a haunted man. And I do not know how to help him.

~*~

The days passed in Bush's favourite manner, with gun and sail drills everyday. The drills excited him, gave him something to do, for in reality, the Lydia had not seen an enemy ship since they had left England. The men were being to wonder why they were here, and Bush was beginning to wonder if the pirates actually existed. Probably, but they would know well enough to stay away from the 36-gunned frigate.

With complete joy Bush yelled at the men to reef the top sails, and then unreef them again. To run out the gun, fire them unloaded, and run them back in again. To have races up and down the rigging, and get the blood pumping in every single man aboard.

Hornblower was ever like a shadow behind him, untalkative in the morning as always, and gloomy by evening. I happened for a little period of time every year, though not always so obviously. How Bush explained it to himself was that Hornblower was bored without the enemy. While they were normally engaged in battle around the anniversary of Archie's death, now they were doing nothing but looking. And looking for something that they had yet to find.

It was getting colder every day and every night, and Bush could only find comfort in stuffing his hands beneath his armpits on the late-night watches. Never, of course, in front of the men, so during the day he kept his fingers warm by merely stretching them often – though it did little good.

That was why, on October the 10th, a ragged and undisciplined cheer went up from the ship's crew as a thick black line appeared on the horizon.

"SILENCE!" Bush cried, trying to regain discipline, though he quivered with excitement.

"Mr. Dunlop," He said, walking over to a Midshipman who was busy studying the signal book on the lee side of the deck, "Would you please go and fetch the Captain from his cabin and tell him that his presence would be greatly appreciated on deck." Dunlop nodded, and ran down to fetch Hornblower, as Bush tried to suppress a grin. After weeks at see, they were finally there! It was Canada he was seeing, the western reach of the British Empire. Bush had never been to Canada before, but he could claim he had now! His mind was already thinking about the new supplies and men when his Captain appeared on deck.

"Your report, Mr. Bush."

"Land ahoy over the starboard bow, sir. Newfoundland if my calculations are correct, sir."

Hornblower nodded. It was too early to be sociable.

"Very good. Take us into Halifax, and send up a signal for Captain Richardson of the Insufferable."

Bush nodded, and wisely decided not to ask who Richardson was, or why they were looking forward. Instead, he shouted up directions for the new tack, and tried not to look over at his Captain, who stood with his hands clasped on the quarterdeck. It was a six hours before they were in signal range of Halifax, and Bush quickly ordered Midshipman Dawson up to the fighting top to count the sails.

"Nine ships, sir!" Dawson called down, his unbroken voice high-pitched on the wind, "Two Ships-of-the-Line, sir, one frigate, and six sloops! Probably merchants, sir." He added about the sloops. Bush nodded to himself, and yelled up to Dawson that he could return to the deck, and if he would please pass the information down to the Captain. Mr. Dawson would do so gladly, and Hornblower was soon on the deck.

"Send the signal up, Mr. Bush."

"Aye aye, sir." Bush said cheerfully, and the signals were run up. First the Insufferable's number, then Richardson's name. Thorp, the 2nd Lieutenant who was up in the fighting top, called the response down to Hornblower.

"She's there, sir! Her Captain sends his response: 'Nice to see you, Captain Hornblower. Report for orders.'"

"Thank you, Thorp! Run up 'Affirmative', if you please." He turned to Bush, "Ready my jetty. I will leave Mr. Thorp in charge of the ship, and you will accompany me to the Insufferable."

"Aye aye, sir!" Cried Mr. Bush, trying desperately to hide his joy.

"Then, I suppose we must go meet our Captain Richardson, and see exactly what is in store for us."

Bush didn't care, as long as Hornblower was in store for it as well.

***