Disclaimer: Yeah. Don't own Horatio and his buddies. It sucks, I know :(

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She hated the woods. They were the most despicable part of the whole plantation, in her opinion. They were dark, thick, and infested with all sorts of creatures who had less than pure motives in mind. Bugs, and wolves, and monsters of all shapes and sizes, to only name a few of the beasts. The trees were old, they moaned in the day and night alike, as if it was a song only they could understand.

The forest was also dark, and hence—leaving all other evidence out—it was bad, so she didn't go near it. Archie had always said not to be afraid of it, that it was simply woods, and not to think about it. But what did Archie know? How could one have such a fountain of despicable things within eye sight and not ponder it constantly? Did he not know the dangers that lay within?

Still, she did her utmost to forget about it daily. Her mother didn't exactly want her going near it anyway, so it was somewhat easy to accomplish. Somewhat.

A five year old can only be teased so much until they break, however; and she had reached that point. Her brother had told her that the village children were just a bunch of manure buckets, but they spoke loudly and were very convincing manure buckets. Archie-her only ground of sensible words—was off at school, learning his multiplication tables and reading his Shakespeare. The resulting events were inevitable.

"So, you're scared?"

"I'm not scared!"

"Then what are you?"

"I'm nothing...I'm just nothing." (She said this out of a lack of anything else to say. A five year olds vocabulary is only so large)

But she would be something if she did it, they said. If she would do it, if she would enter the woods, they said she'd be somebody. (Besides the fact they said at the other side of it there was the land of spirits, where she could live. That was actually the most tempting part. Sometimes her mother had let her and Johnathan go to town and see them, the travelers that is. Their colorful scarves, the chants, the magic—it amazed them. So the opportunity of going to a land of the same spirits that the gypsies spoke of was just too good to leave).

At first, she was optimistic. Skipping gaily over leaves, climbing over logs, greeting all flora and fauna that came her way. Two hours later, however, things took a far more sinister turn. Darkness started to settle in, owls coed their soft songs, shadows cast themselves around curves and within small caverns of trees. They blinded her path. Then there were the eyes she swore were watching her, everywhere she looked she thought she saw them, but then didn't. Howling wolves, and quiet whispers of words she couldn't make out. Then the tears and running. She ran, and, ran, and ran. She didn't know where, but didn't care. She just wanted out, and just ran.

When she couldn't run any more, she collapsed onto the ground and quickly crawled into a fallen log. The eyes and noises still followed her. Hopeless and lost, she didn't know what else to do except to curl in a ball and cry. The noises got closer, closer; crinkling leaves, breaking branches...

"Caroline?"

A quiet gasp escaped her throat at the voice and the sensation of a hand gently resting on her arm. But then familiarity rested in.

"Ar-" She sniffed back her sobs, "Archie?"

"I've been looking for her everywhere-" He took her from the log, guiding her back to the outer world, "-your mother's worried herself into a fever."

"How...how did you know where I was?"

"Johnathan got it from those boys." He chastened, "why do you let them push you around so?"

"I-I-I don't know.." Off in the distance, the wolf howled. Caroline grasped his arms tighter, and buried her face in his soft jacket. He rapped his arm around her shoulders, and said quietly,

"Lets go home. I'll have Beth make some tea for you, and we shall snack on those tiny cakes that father brought from London."

"R-really?"

"Really."

And that was enough. Suddenly, the forest wasn't so frightening any longer, and the two of them walked back to the clearing, back to the manner. They did indeed have Beth make them tea, and although Archie's father didn't want them to dine on cakes, they did so anyway. Hiding underneath a bed sheet fort, they snacked and chatted into the wee hours of the morning.

()()()()()

Evening was always her favorite time of day. Even after she joined the navy, she always enjoyed the hours right after sunset, but before the midnight watch. Nature's lullaby of sea gull cries and the whisper of the waves rocking against the ship, or against a quiet shore, brought sweet serenity to her heart. The air was always crisp and cooler, and the stars twinkled, preparing themselves for their nighttime display.

It was even nicer on the ocean—the soft groans of the ship; the fresh, salty air; the gentle whistling of a helmsman who guided them into the dark waters ahead. It was beautiful, especially when she was able to go out at night in one of the smaller boats. Be alone, all alone, in the middle of a eternal sea of black, lapping waters. Nothing calmed her more.

This night, on the other hand, wasn't as peaceful. Its quietness was of no question, but her mind was awake, and her eyes darted from one place to another: waiting.

She was in the stern of a jolly boat, the dark ocean to her right, Horatio to her left; both of his hands were on the rudder, his eyes gazed forward. Caroline looked up at him, then over at Archie who was to his left. His eyes were downcast, as if he was looking into a abyss that only he could see (although she had seen it many times before). What was she going to do? She leaned back, and looked over the waters, at the boats that glided across it. Very quite, very still, but a storm was brewing.

It was the perfect night for a surprise assault. The moon was all but hidden behind a thickly clouded sky, and the waters were still. Near perfect, but one thing could change that. For a moment, Caroline locked eyes with Mathews, one of Horatio's men. The old sailor seemed to be of the same mind she was, but she couldn't hold his gaze for very long, and looked away. It was like he understood everything, and that—in a odd sort of way—scared her. Things just felt rather odd then. Nothing really made sense.

And it was silent.

Then, it wasn't.

Archie suddenly let out a moan—if Caroline had been looking at him, she would have seen his eyes rolling back, and his body crumpling towards onto the ship bottom. His moans started to get louder, and as soon as she saw, Caroline was at her knees, grabbing for his head, trying to get him to be quiet. Matthews put aside his oar, and went to grab his legs, which were jolting about and knocking against the wooded bulkhead. "He's having a fit, sir!"

Her hands kept slipping as she struggled tried to get a hold on his mouth. His moans grew in volume. "Shh, Archie, it's alright. Shh..." but he was bigger than she was, and her hands had already been shaking.

"Mr. Hornblower!" A voice in the water, Simpson, in other boat, "Can't you keep your boat quiet!"

You're one to talk, Caroline thought, and swore silently at the man. She loathed him intently.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Horatio whispered back helplessly. He looked down at her and she up at him. His eyes begged her to do something, to quiet him somehow, but how the hell should she know what to do? Maybe she should by this point, maybe she should have learned how, but she hadn't.

"Archie...quiet, Archie. Shhh..." Horatio saw that in her eyes, saw that she was just as helpless as anyone was; but at this rate, Archie's cries excelling, his body thrashing, she and Matthews could not hold the young man down forever, and couldn't chance waiting it out.

Then Simpson again, "Do something!"

"Yes, sir!"

Caroline had managed to grab his head and hold it between her thigh and hand, but Archie was thrashing so much that her hand kept sliding and his cries reached into the night. Simpson grew increasingly impatient, Eccleston called for them to quiet down. Matthews groaned, "Sir..."

She didn't even realize what he had done until it was over, she didn't see Horatio pull out the rudder, hold it above his head, then bring it down on the back of Archie's skull. The jolting head had slipped from her grasp for but a moment, and that was all it took. Just like that, the cries silence, and Archie lay still in the bottom of the boat. Matthews moved quietly back to his seat, Horatio sat back down, and Caroline sat frozen there, Archie's head resting on her calf.

Oh. That was the only thought she had. Everything else was blank. What had just occurred? It seemed like a dream, very surreal, maybe a dream in a dream. After getting back next to Horatio, she stared into the abyss for the remainder of the voyage to the Pappilon. No words would suffice, so silence reigned.

The Pappilon was larger than she had supposed; her sides seemed to cascade up to the heavens twice as high as the Indefatigable's. It loomed, it's stillness just made it all the more ominous and foreboding. What if the attack failed? The price would be high. A new sort of a fear twisted into her, one she'd never felt before—this fear of possible death, real death. The jolly boat rested next to the Pappilon, bobbing against it. Men tied it off, other boats landed around them, a middle aged sailor kissed a cross necklace he wore, "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen." Caroline watched him ascend the side of the boat, slowly climbing up the ladder.

Horatio was next. Before he could go, Caroline tapped his arm, "Horatio?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to stay here."

He look down at her feet, then up to her face, "You sure?" his breathing was sharp.

"Yes."

His nod was one of understanding, then he turned and started his way up. She watched him disappear over the top, creeping near silently. The boat felt lighter, and she sat herself down next to Archie, grasping her knees to her chest. No one saw her. She could be scared now, she could sit in positions that could be considered scandalous.

Noise erupted. Gun shots, French voices, clashing swords. It was almost as if the devil had given permission, and all hell with its demons broke loose. Yelling, smashing, smoke. Caroline sat there waiting. No one else was guarding any of the boats. She took off her hat and felt a cool zephyr blowing through her tied-back hair, rebellious strands few around her face.

So calm, so peaceful...aside from the battle going on. It would have been a beautiful night, she thought, looking down at Archie next to her. Eyes gently closed, hair fluttering around his face, he could have been asleep.

The irony of it, she thought, the irony of change; sitting there, she couldn't help but think about old days, days when things were simpler. Days when she was the gullible damsel and Archie was her dashing hero. When they were younger, Archie was hardly ever in trouble or afraid (if ever fearful, it was of his father, who was incredibly impatient with a son who had no interest in the family estate or any thing associated with it) she was always the one getting off into one thing or another. Archie always had been the one to save her.

Yet, somehow, along the path they'd been traveling on, the line between their roles had blurred, and Caroline wasn't sure who was who any longer. Head now buried in her arms, she gave a heavy sigh, as if she could simply breath out everything and be left pure and unstained. The sounds of battle drifted off, and in her mind, everything was still. If only...

... Someone was watching her.

She knew the feeling. A subtle tingling down her spine, a tickle in the back of her neck. Unguarded, unsafe. Caroline froze, her breath halted. No, she didn't want to look. She didn't want to move, but needed to see. Her peer was hesitant, slow, guessing what she would see, almost sure, but needing to know.

There he stood, looking over the banister of the ship, directly down at her, right into her eyes. She didn't move, didn't know what to say. Still recovering from the previous events, all Caroline did was stare. And when Simpson's gun came in view, she had no time to react (or maybe she just didn't know what to do, and didn't particularly care any longer). The last thing she saw was the end of the gun, felt a hot sting and a throb in her head, and the only thing she thought was just a simple 'Oh'.

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Short chapter, yeah, but there's just a lot that's about to happen, and I felt like I should wait and start into it in the next edition. I promise that good things are coming! Reviews are always amazing =D good or bad—constructive criticism!