Eyes Meet
One: Anniversary
The sea spray salted his face and brushed through his hair like a lover's fingers. Brown eyes surveyed the empty horizon with an air of one who had seen it all. The ship bucked and swayed beneath him, roiling over the darkened seas like a frightened animal. He took a deep lungful of sea air – the fresh sharpness of it bringing him from his thoughts to the present. This was not a time for careless memories. They were approaching the coast of France. He needed his wits about him.
Horatio Hornblower went below to his cabin, trying to distract himself from… himself, he supposed. He was the greatest danger to his own health sometimes. He had barely sat down when there was a knock at the door.
"Enter." He announced wearily. Lieutenant William Bush entered and bowed, before regarding his captain with concern.
"Horatio…" He began hesitantly.
"Don't worry William; I'll be on deck shortly." Horatio managed to say breezily, forcing a smile. Bush shook his head.
"Horatio, I don't mind taking us in myself, if you want time to rest." The captain looked sharply at his friend.
"I am perfectly well, thank you, Mr Bush." The formal title reminded Bush of his place, but he couldn't stay quiet.
"With all due respect, it's been three years… you haven't once rested. And, today of all days, I can understand if you want to –"
"I want to do nothing of the sort, William!" Horatio snapped angrily. "I do not want to be reminded of the date, or the time nor anything of that matter. Now, if you will excuse me." He stormed past the lieutenant back on deck, forcing down the burning feelings in his chest. Bush was right… today he needed time to himself more than any other day. It had been three years to the day since he last saw Elizabeth. His heart ached and yet sang at her name, her face burned into his thoughts. He was a slave to her memory, and loathed and loved it all at once.
The coast of Brest loomed slowly into view, growing and stretching until it filled the horizon and swept across the ocean towards them. As they dropped anchor, Horatio explained to the crew what the plan was, and oversaw the loading of the boats. As the sand crunched beneath the prows, he gulped down the air that assailed him – pine needles and tree sap, sea and sand. It was a heady mixture, filled with memories. The crack of gunshot, a woman's cry of pain, the snap of undergrowth beneath aggressive feet. He shut his eyes and leapt into the knee-high shallows, splashing to the shore and ignoring the clinging wetness of his breeches.
"Mr Bush." He said, stirring himself.
"Yessir." The answer was prompt and abrupt. Expectant and efficient, just like his lieutenant.
"We will take our parties up either side of this beach; you will take yours on the south side. Meet back here before nightfall."
"Yessir." Bush hurried to act out his orders, and soon the beach was cleared of all but marines and boats. Horatio forced everything to the back of his mind, save the thoughts on the expedition. It was all that mattered, all that he cared about… His duty…
But in the camp firelight that night, he could not shake her. Her eyes… they were a rich blue, flecked with gold. Expensive, spirited, beautiful. Her skin was soft and supple, pale and freckly on her face, shoulders and knees, smooth as marble. He stared hard at the flames of the fire. Her hair was a sheet of ivory gold – delicately pale finery. Her livid red scar had shone beneath the moon shadows, her long, slender neck arched back to receive his lips… Her soft, sweetened mouth had whispered his name, the sound of honey and heaven's bells. She was an angel… Three years. Three long, hardened years of unmerciful torment. Of pain, grief, suffering… Wondering and craving. Her last words had haunted his dreams every night since then. Her face echoed in the hollow reaches of this shell he called his body. You were my angel.
"And you were mine." He whispered to the sea mists and the sleeping forms around him. He hugged his knees, staring at the rubble of the campfire. "And you were always mine."