Chapter Two

Horatio stared at his friend, then leaned back as he realized what Archie must be up to. "Very amusing, Mr. Kennedy," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "It is good to know that your unusual sense of humor was not knocked out of you when the gun blew. It won't get you out of your next watch, you realize."

His brow knit in puzzlement, Archie looked at Horatio. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Horatio's smile faded. "You are not jesting?"

Dr. Hepplewhite stepped forward, moving to stand at Archie's head, looking at Horatio still seated at the foot of the bed. "I fear he is not, lieutenant."

"He doesn't know who I am?"

Hepplewhite shook his head. "No, he has no memory of any of us, or of his life aboard Indefatigable."

"That's not possible."

"Of course it is. As the son of a doctor, surely you must have heard of instances such as this, even though it is not at all common." He looked at Archie, then sighed and looked back at Horatio. "I had thought that seeing you would perhaps jar his memory, but obviously it has not."

"But he is aware of things around him?"

"Hey," protested Archie. "Stop speaking of me as if I am not here in the room."

Hepplewhite and Horatio both inclined their heads slightly. "My apologies, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio said, still reeling a bit from this unexpected development. "How are you feeling?"

"That's better," Archie grumbled as he leaned back. "To be honest, my head hurts like the dickens, Mr…?"

"Hornblower," Horatio supplied helpfully.

Archie, his blond eyebrow arching a bit, looked back and forth between Horatio and the doctor. "Hepplewhite and Hornblower? Am I aboard the Ship of Silly Surnames?"

Horatio almost choked at the look on Dr. Hepplewhite's face. No, Archie's sense of humor was indeed intact. At least there was one positive thing.

"Dr. Hepplewhite," he said, careful to keep any hint of laughter out of his voice, lest the doctor take offense. "Other than a loss of memory, Mr. Kennedy is well?"

Dr. Hepplewhite, still shooting a look of indignation toward Archie, nodded to Horatio. "Yes, Lieutenant Hornblower," he answered, emphasizing Horatio's last name slightly. "He is physically fit for duty."

That gave Horatio pause. Was Archie truly fit for duty? Could a man with no memory be trusted to do his duty, without danger to the ship or the men? Would he even know how to do his duty? That would not be his decision - his duty was only to determine the extent of Archie's injuries, and report them to his captain.

"Very well, doctor, thank you," he said. "I shall inform the captain." He rose to his feet, and before turning to leave, he looked down at Archie, a soft smile crossing his lips. Memory loss or no, that was still his best friend lying in that bed.

"Take care, Mr. Kennedy," he said softly, his brown eyes meeting Archie's blue. "I will return to see you as soon as I am able."

There was no emotion in Archie's eyes, no recognition at all as he looked back at Horatio. "Thank you, Mr. Hornblower, but I am sure you have many other things you would rather do than spend your time conversing with a stranger."

Horatio bit back his automatic response - how could Archie be a stranger? - and merely shook his head. "I may be a stranger to you, sir, but you are not to me. Perhaps if we spend time together, your memory of us will return." He glanced over at the doctor, then back at Archie. "Just be certain sure you follow Dr. Hepplewhite's instructions. I know that stubborn streak of yours, Mr. Kennedy, and I suggest you keep it under wraps until the doctor is convinced you are well." With a nod to the doctor, Horatio left the sick berth.

Archie's gaze followed Horatio out the door, and then he turned back to Hepplewhite. "Doctor."

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy?"

"I do know that man?"

Hepplewhite smiled. "Yes, indeed you do, Mr. Kennedy. The two of you are really quite close, in fact. You seem to have a talent for getting yourself injured, and whenever you are lying here in my sick berth, Lieutenant Hornblower has always spent every spare moment beside you, nursing you back to health."

Archie frowned. "I keep injuring myself?"

Hepplewhite laughed, remembering all the different things that had sent Archie to his care. Since coming aboard Indefatigable, there had been numerous instances, though nothing like when they had served aboard Justinian. The injuries Archie had sought treatment for while aboard the Indy had been much different than the darkness he had been exposed to aboard his first ship. Hepplewhite shuddered a bit, remembering the torment Archie had suffered at the hand of nasty Jack Simpson, the unspeakable acts the man had committed against the young boy.

Equally bad had been Hepplewhite's cavalier treatment of Archie's injuries. He hated how he had basically ignored the boy's pain, even laughing about the cause of it, and continuing to overlook it each and every time it had happened. Archie had never sought treatment from him, for he had been horribly humiliated at the cause of his injuries, but occasionally Midshipman Clayton or seaman Matthews had brought the boy to him, when the injuries had been life-threatening. And what had Hepplewhite done to aid him? Merely wiped away the blood and put a wet cloth at the site of the worst damage, all the while laughing, and calling Archie Jack's whore. He had no excuse for himself, other than that he had become a drunkard, trying to deal with all of the awful things that were aboard that ship, the evil that had lurked in the heart of Jack Simpson and those who followed him.

Simpson had owned him, plain and simple, though not in the way he had owned Archie. He had stolen the boy's youth and innocence, had nearly killed the lad, and every time Hepplewhite caught a glimpse of the shadows that still lurked behind Archie's eyes, even here aboard Indefatigable, he vowed over and over that somehow he would redeem himself. Like Archie, he had been given a second chance when he transferred to Indefatigable, and he had made the most of it. He would never be a brilliant surgeon, but he could at least be a better one, and he could ease the pain of all the men aboard this fine ship. And though he could never make up for how he had treated Mr. Kennedy, he did his best to take special care of him. Of course, considering all the times Archie appeared in his sick berth, he had ample opportunity for that.

Turning his thoughts from the past, he looked down at Archie. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy, you do seem to find yourself in the midst of some trouble or another quite frequently. It's one of your many talents. But whenever you do, Mr. Hornblower is always by your side. It's quite touching, actually."

Still frowning, Archie didn't quite meet Hepplewhite's eyes, his eyes looking around the sick berth. "Touching."

"Oh, yes. I have never seen a friendship quite like yours - it's really more than a friendship."

Archie's head jerked up, his blue eyes burning into Hepplewhite's. "Doctor, are you insinuating that Mr. Hornblower and I are…"

"Heavens, no, Mr. Kennedy," Hepplewhite rushed to assure him. Yes, there were always nasty rumors from some of the men about the two officers, but Hepplewhite had never believed it for a moment. He had seen what that type of relationship had done to Archie, and though he could not swear to it, he truly doubted that the boy would ever involve himself like that. Still, the rumors persisted, though Hornblower and Kennedy seemed to be blissfully unaware of them. "The two of you are as brothers to each other. Nothing more."

Archie nodded, then flinched. "Doctor, is there nothing you can do for this pain in my head? It's quite unbearable."

"Alas, Mr. Kennedy, there is not much I can do. You must rest."

Sighing, Archie rubbed his temples. This was the worst pain he could ever remember. He grinned a bit at that. It was quite possible he had suffered much worse pain than this, but he had no memory of anything, not even his own name.

"Thank you, doctor," he finally said. "I think that a splendid idea."

"Very well," said the doctor, moving about the nearly empty sick berth and turning down the lanterns. "You get some rest, and I will bring you some broth a little later."

Archie watched as the doctor checked on the other patients and then left the room, going into his small office to the side, and then he eased himself down to lie upon the bed. He didn't attempt sleep, for his mind was racing much too fast for that. Staring up at the timbers above his head, he tried to piece together what he could from the few things the doctor had told him.

He was Acting Lieutenant Archie Kennedy, serving aboard the frigate Indefatigable, under Captain Sir Edward Pellew. He was only recently promoted to Acting Lieutenant, shortly before some sort of unpleasant business in France, though the doctor had been rather vague about just what had transpired. They were at war. His closest friend was Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower. He had a talent for getting injured.

But what other talents did he have? Was he a good sailor? Did the men of his division like or respect him? What was he like when he was away from the ship? Did he like music? Did he have a sweetheart somewhere, waiting for him? Who was his family? Was he happy aboard ship? Did he have other friends, besides Hornblower? Did he enjoy himself while on shore leave? What frightened him? What gave him great pleasure?

Frustrated, Archie rolled onto his side. Nothing was coming to him, nothing sounded familiar. He only knew what he knew about himself because Dr. Hepplewhite had told him these things, and he accepted them as fact. He had to start somewhere.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, the memories would come back, maybe scenes from his life would flash before his eyes. Surely everything couldn't just be gone. There must be something, somewhere, that would trigger his memory. He let his eyelids fall, his mind centered on nothing but the blackness behind his lids, feeling the breath as it moved in and out of his chest. Nothing.

He tried to imagine a shape of a body - no face, just some sort of image to get him started, some idea of someone he would recognize. The only thing that came to his mind was the concerned personages of both Hepplewhite and Hornblower.

Dammit. He already knew those two - well, somewhat. He knew who they were, but only because they had told him as much. He still had no idea of how good of a doctor Hepplewhite was, no recollection of why he and Hornblower were friends.

...The two of you are as brothers to each other...

Why? He may not remember people, but he did know that friendships such as that were not the norm in the Navy, for there was always the threat of transfer or death to separate the men, so close relationships were not exactly encouraged or even welcomed. So why were he and this lieutenant such good friends? And why did he feel no connection to the man now?

Frustrated, Archie rolled back over onto his back, groaning slightly at the sharp pain that stabbed through his head as he did so. Lightning flashes of bright colors flew behind his eyelids, startling him just a bit. As the colors faded, so did the pain in his head, gradually subsiding to merely a mild throbbing, as opposed to feeling as if someone were burying a cutlass in his skull and trying to carve out his eyes from the inside.

This was pointless. All he ever got when he tried to remember anyone was a big, black void, a chasm that stretched out endlessly before him, full of the unknown. Sleep was what he needed. Maybe everything would come back to him in the morning. Or perhaps he would dream of something from his past, something that would spark the other memories to come flooding back.

Or would he dream of other things, unpleasant things? Life aboard a warship was difficult, he knew that, and it was not an easy life to lead. Maybe he could not fall asleep because he did not want to, maybe he feared the dark. He lay silently for a moment, waiting. No, he decided. I feel no fear about anything, just an uneasiness about not knowing anything about myself. Perfectly understandable. Sighing, he forced himself to lie still, thinking of nothing but the sound of the Indy as she rose and fell gently upon the swells, listening to the creaking of her timber, and gradually feeling a peace settle over him. He recognized these sounds. The Indy was his home, he was sure of it. And so, wrapped safely in her protection, he gradually drifted off to dreamless, restorative sleep.

*****

When he awoke the next morning, stiff and a bit chilled, awareness was slow to come to him. There were sounds of men moving about the ship, the sounding of the watch, the laughter and song of the men as they went about their day. Archie lay still for a moment, just thinking.

Nothing has changed, he thought with a sigh. I can't remember anything else about this ship, about her crew, about my own life. Slowly, he sat up, grunting a little at the sharp jab of pain in his head. He sat still for a few moments, breathing deeply until the pain passed, and then he raised his head and looked around.

The sick berth was empty, though he could see a shadow moving around under the door to Dr. Hepplewhite's office. All the other injured men had been sent back to their own hammocks, he assumed, probably because their injuries were not serious. So it's just me here by myself, he thought. All alone. There was a bit of irony in that. He truly was alone, without even his memories for company.

"Ah, Mr. Kennedy," Hepplewhite greeted him as he exited his office. "How is your head today?"

"Still attached," Archie grumbled, and Hepplewhite laughed.

"Well, you just see that it remains attached here in sick berth. I'm going to go fix you some breakfast, so you wait right here." Picking up a wooden bowl, the doctor left the room, whistling "Drop of Brandy" as he went.

Archie leaned back, then sat up. Sitting here would do him absolutely no good - he needed to be out and about, where something might spark his memory. It certain sure wouldn't happen here.

"Sorry, doc," he said. "Some things a man just has to do himself."