"I know what you want to do, Kennedy."

If Archie Kennedy is at all startled by the sudden declaration the all-too-silent prison hospital, he doesn't express it beyond flicking his eyes in the direction of the bed next to him. "So now you're in the business of reading minds as well, are you, Mr. Bush?" he asks quietly.

Again, silence fills the space between, only broken by the droning of the flies in the tropical heat. "No, I just know you well enough to figure out the sort of thing you would be planning." As Archie scowls, Bush rolls his eyes and adds, "Oh, for goodness sake, I thought we were passed that."

Archie sighs and immediately regrets the action as a searing pain courses through his chest, followed by a long silence in which he tries to take a breath that isn't painful - at least relatively. He finally manages a quiet, "Sorry," to which the other man merely nods, accepting the apology and unspoken explanation - after all, with the trial and, Bush can't help but swallow, the rest of it, they could only deal with so much. "So what /do/ I want to do, then?" he asks after another moment, a wry challenge.

But William doesn't seem to see any humor in idea, wry or no. "I know very little about what happened when the captain fell," he tells Archie, voice low and serious, "but I do know there were three of you there, one of whom is dead; another is Mr. Hornblower. And there's no denying that you seem to enjoy the idea of martyrdom."

Archie goes tight-lipped. "It's hardly martyrdom if one is going to die anyway. Why not kill two birds with one stone? No," a sudden hard swallow, "pun intended."

"He wouldn't want you to do it."

"Well, if you haven't noticed, Horatio seems to 'enjoy the idea of martyrdom' as well."

Bush sighs, exasperated, and carefully pulls himself into a sitting position. "But /you/ didn't do it."

Archie raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said you weren't there."

"Did you, then?"

Archie is silent for a long moment. He attempts to shift slightly in order to look at the other man, winces sharply at the price for the effort, and finally just replies quietly, still staring at the ceiling, "Mr. Bush, the tribunal is going to ask Horatio if he pushed Captain Sawyer, and Horatio..." he closes his eyes briefly, "Horatio can't even lie to save his own damned neck. They want someone guilty, they want someone dead. There's no reason for it to be him when it could be me. After all, I'm already dead."

"You're having a conversation much like you're alive," Bush counters quietly, watching him intently.

"Ask for me tomorrow and you may find me a grave man." It's barely a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind."

"I still say he wouldn't want you to do it."

Archie laughs softly. "Horatio never wants any sort of help, even when he needs it most. Especially when he needs it most." He manages to turn his head to look at him. "I've nothing to lose."

"You don't deserve to be remembered like that, Kennedy," vehemently insists the man who once hated him. "Your good name-" Bush starts when Archie cuts him off with a sharp laugh.

"If my name - my reputation - mattered that much to me, I would have fallen apart long ago."

"Then you're determined?" Bush asks after another long silence. At Archie's single nod, William seems to sink dejectedly into the hospital cot he is sitting on, dropping his eyes, defeated. "Then I won't stop you...And I will give you any help you need."

The thanks conveyed by Archie's expression, his face as emotionally open as always, is clearer than any sort of words could be. He closes his eyes and is silent long enough for Bush to suspect that he has fallen asleep, but then he speaks abruptly with a swallow, "And...William? Look after Horatio for me? Like I said, the fool toys dangerously with the idea of martyrdom far more often than is good for him. God knows, he needs /someone/ sensible to keep him in line."

"Of course. I would be glad to."

The thanks on Archie's face is clearer than ever.