The Anniversary
Title: The Anniversary
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / Hornblower
Rating: G
Notes: I started writing this in December five years after I posted my first fic Grey to Black. At that time, I thought I'd completely missed the boat with Hornblower fandom (still my first and only fandom <3) so it was wonderful to meet so many creative and welcoming folk here on LJ, many of whom have become great friends in RL. I haven't got nearly as much time for fic writing these days as I would like, but the plot bunnies are still breeding and the odd fic does still occasionally make it out of my drafts folder. Anyway, I just wanted to write something to mark the occasion and to say thank you to everyone who makes the Hornblower fandom such a wonderful place to be :)
January 1798, Indefatigable, Spithead
Kennedy’s breath clouded the air in front of him, shimmering briefly in the darkness. The night was still and clear, studded by the sharp silver pinprick of stars, the dim yellow glow of binnacle lights, and beyond, the faint haze that was Portsmouth. On the edge of the shallow pool of light cast by the Indefatigable’s binnacle lantern, he could just make out a familiar figure, standing tall and erect. Kennedy smiled to himself as he picked his way across the deck to the quarterdeck companion. Typical of Hornblower to be standing to attention at the fag end of the first watch, while the Indefatigable was anchored in Spithead, surrounded by the fleet. Across the anchorage the ships bells started tolling. Eight bells, the end of first watch; the middle watch was his.
Stifling a yawn as he ascended the companion, Kennedy approached the third lieutenant and saluted briefly.
“Mr Hornblower.”
“Mr Kennedy.”
Hornblower returned the salute but even in the darkness Kennedy could see that his fingers were white with cold.
“Eight bells and all’s well!” called the master at arms from the waist, and his call was echoed by a myriad distant voices drifting across the still water.
“Nothing to report Mr Kennedy, the deck is yours.”
“Aye sir.”
Being relieved of the onerous duty of standing watch, Hornblower relaxed visibly, shrugging his shoulders and shaking out his arms to get the blood flowing.
“Lord Horatio,” Archie muttered, “why aren’t you wearing your gloves? You must be frozen.”
He seized one of Horatio’s hands and rubbed it briskly between his own.
“Mr Kennedy...” Hornblower admonished half heartedly, but he made no attempt to pull his hand away.
“You’d better get below, your hands are like ice. Take the blankets from my cot, they’ll still be warm.”
Horatio smiled gratefully, but he remained where he stood.
“Go on, what are you waiting for? I think you can trust me with the watch Mr Hornblower. I don’t think we’re in any danger of being boarded, unless the Amazon’s mids are out on another spree.”
“I was just thinking,” Horatio started hesitantly, “it’s five years...”
“Five years?” Archie interrupted, “five years till what? Five years till this damn war is over? Lord I hope it’ll be done by then. The frogs will have run out of heads to lop off long before then surely!”
“No Archie, it’s been five years since...since I joined the service.”
“Really?” Archie raised his brows in mock astonishment “And are you expecting this momentous occasion to be marked by their Lordships? I don’t think the Admiralty award promotions for long service and, even if they did, I don’t think five years really cuts it.”
Horatio sighed, rolling his eyes heavenwards. “No Archie,” he replied, lowering his gaze and his voice, “it’s been five years since we first met.”
“Oh.” Archie could feel his cheeks colouring despite the cold. He walked casually over to the weather rail to conceal his discomfort and gazed out over the water towards the fleet.
Horatio was beside him in a moment, standing so close that Archie could feel his breath against his cheek.
“It was here,” Horatio continued, “right here in Spithead, do you remember?”
Archie smiled tightly, but did not reply.
“You must remember,” Horatio persisted. “It was raining. Sheeting down. You were at the side. You said ‘Welcome to penury’ or something like that. I was so terrified I was going to fall; I can’t remember what you said. Funny that. All these years I’ve been trying to remember, but I never thought to ask. Not that you’d recall, I suppose.”
“Purgatory,” Archie replied, his voice clipped and precise.
“Sorry?” Horatio turned and looked at him blankly.
“Purgatory, I said welcome to purgatory.”
“Oh. Did you? Oh. Well...” Horatio’s voice tailed off and he shuffled uncomfortably.
Archie felt a familiar pang of guilt twisting in his chest.
“Or maybe not, maybe I said something else, I can’t remember,” he lied, “it’s a long time ago.”
“Really? You can’t remember when we met?” Horatio looked so crestfallen, his woeful expression so at odds with the pristine formality of his lieutenant’s uniform, that Archie had to resist a powerful urge to embrace him where he stood.
“Well of course I remember that,” he replied brightly. “You heaved your guts up at my feet. How could I possibly forget? You certainly know how to make an entrance Horatio, there’s no denying that.”
“Archie...”
“Talking of which,” Archie continued, “it’s high time you made your exit before you freeze to death. Come on.” He laid his hand on Horatio’s shoulder and steered him away from the rail. As they reached the companion he stopped, his hand still resting on his friend’s shoulder.
“Five years?
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore: this is the second of our reign.”
“What on earth are you talking about Archie?” Horatio stared at him in bemusement.
“It’s Donne, Horatio, ‘The Anniversary’. I’ll read it to you later. Now get below will you.”
“You’ll read it to me? I have your word on that?” Horatio’s eyes were shining.
“Yes, you have my word. Now get off my deck Mr Hornblower before I have to order you below.”
“Aye, aye, Mr Kennedy, below it is.” Still smiling, Horatio saluted smartly and made his way down the companion.
Archie remembered. Of course he remembered, it was outwith his power to forget. He was cursed with a long memory. He remembered every day of those last five years, every crawling moment of the three that went before. It was only when his thoughts turned to Spain that his memory failed him. Of his last two weeks in the pit he remembered nothing.
Archie gazed unseeing across Spithead, familiar in its every detail. How many nights had he stood there, numb with horror, willing himself to lift a shot from the rack and drop quietly over the side? Why he had not done so, he could not fathom. Certainly not fear of mortal sin, after all, he’d been damned long since. Stubbornness? Fear? Hope? He couldn’t say. And yet here he was, five years hence. Still gazing out over Spithead. Still trying to forget.
Archie bent all his will to forgetting; always look forward, never back, always trying to escape the darkness. But even in the dark, even in the hopeless oblivion of Ferrol, there had been a glimmer of light; Horatio’s shining belief that he was one of them, his unflinching determination that he would not be left behind. Of course he had not believed it at the time, hating Horatio for his persistence, for his determination to drag him back to the Indefatigable where all would see his shame, back to the fleet where Simpson would be waiting. But Simpson was gone, and strange to tell, he was one of them, an Indefatigable, and he had remained so through all the long lost years of captivity in France and Spain. His name never struck from the ship’s books by a captain who did not make casual errors.
And then there was that other light, that spark that kindled in Horatio’s eyes, once they were alone, behind a door that shut; that precious light that drove back the darkness and lit an unquenchable fire within. Still staring out over the anchorage, the lights on the water dissolved before Archie’s gaze, replaced by long lithe limbs that twined about his own, a strong straight back that arched to his touch, dark curls that hung about his face, darker lashes drifting shut and full lips parting to meet his kiss.
The man at the con coughed, stamping his feet to keep warm and pacing a slow deliberate circle around the wheel.
Archie’s face flushed. A fine officer of the watch he watch he made, the Amazon’s mids could have boarded the frigate and carried their flagstaff off right under his nose while he stood there dreaming. And a high time he would have explaining such dereliction of duty to the captain! Berating himself for his lack of discipline, Archie squared his shoulders and crossed the quarterdeck, taking up the same station by the binnacle that Horatio had lately vacated.
He had remembered the date of course, and the lines of Donne had been running through his head all day. That he had shared the joy of Horatio’s friendship for three of those five years seemed nothing short of miraculous. To attain threescore might be an improbable hope, they were at war after all and the future was far from certain, but every day by Horatio’s side added to that tally, and with every day that passed, Archie took one more step away from the darkness and into the light.
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / Hornblower
Rating: G
Notes: I started writing this in December five years after I posted my first fic Grey to Black. At that time, I thought I'd completely missed the boat with Hornblower fandom (still my first and only fandom <3) so it was wonderful to meet so many creative and welcoming folk here on LJ, many of whom have become great friends in RL. I haven't got nearly as much time for fic writing these days as I would like, but the plot bunnies are still breeding and the odd fic does still occasionally make it out of my drafts folder. Anyway, I just wanted to write something to mark the occasion and to say thank you to everyone who makes the Hornblower fandom such a wonderful place to be :)
January 1798, Indefatigable, Spithead
Kennedy’s breath clouded the air in front of him, shimmering briefly in the darkness. The night was still and clear, studded by the sharp silver pinprick of stars, the dim yellow glow of binnacle lights, and beyond, the faint haze that was Portsmouth. On the edge of the shallow pool of light cast by the Indefatigable’s binnacle lantern, he could just make out a familiar figure, standing tall and erect. Kennedy smiled to himself as he picked his way across the deck to the quarterdeck companion. Typical of Hornblower to be standing to attention at the fag end of the first watch, while the Indefatigable was anchored in Spithead, surrounded by the fleet. Across the anchorage the ships bells started tolling. Eight bells, the end of first watch; the middle watch was his.
Stifling a yawn as he ascended the companion, Kennedy approached the third lieutenant and saluted briefly.
“Mr Hornblower.”
“Mr Kennedy.”
Hornblower returned the salute but even in the darkness Kennedy could see that his fingers were white with cold.
“Eight bells and all’s well!” called the master at arms from the waist, and his call was echoed by a myriad distant voices drifting across the still water.
“Nothing to report Mr Kennedy, the deck is yours.”
“Aye sir.”
Being relieved of the onerous duty of standing watch, Hornblower relaxed visibly, shrugging his shoulders and shaking out his arms to get the blood flowing.
“Lord Horatio,” Archie muttered, “why aren’t you wearing your gloves? You must be frozen.”
He seized one of Horatio’s hands and rubbed it briskly between his own.
“Mr Kennedy...” Hornblower admonished half heartedly, but he made no attempt to pull his hand away.
“You’d better get below, your hands are like ice. Take the blankets from my cot, they’ll still be warm.”
Horatio smiled gratefully, but he remained where he stood.
“Go on, what are you waiting for? I think you can trust me with the watch Mr Hornblower. I don’t think we’re in any danger of being boarded, unless the Amazon’s mids are out on another spree.”
“I was just thinking,” Horatio started hesitantly, “it’s five years...”
“Five years?” Archie interrupted, “five years till what? Five years till this damn war is over? Lord I hope it’ll be done by then. The frogs will have run out of heads to lop off long before then surely!”
“No Archie, it’s been five years since...since I joined the service.”
“Really?” Archie raised his brows in mock astonishment “And are you expecting this momentous occasion to be marked by their Lordships? I don’t think the Admiralty award promotions for long service and, even if they did, I don’t think five years really cuts it.”
Horatio sighed, rolling his eyes heavenwards. “No Archie,” he replied, lowering his gaze and his voice, “it’s been five years since we first met.”
“Oh.” Archie could feel his cheeks colouring despite the cold. He walked casually over to the weather rail to conceal his discomfort and gazed out over the water towards the fleet.
Horatio was beside him in a moment, standing so close that Archie could feel his breath against his cheek.
“It was here,” Horatio continued, “right here in Spithead, do you remember?”
Archie smiled tightly, but did not reply.
“You must remember,” Horatio persisted. “It was raining. Sheeting down. You were at the side. You said ‘Welcome to penury’ or something like that. I was so terrified I was going to fall; I can’t remember what you said. Funny that. All these years I’ve been trying to remember, but I never thought to ask. Not that you’d recall, I suppose.”
“Purgatory,” Archie replied, his voice clipped and precise.
“Sorry?” Horatio turned and looked at him blankly.
“Purgatory, I said welcome to purgatory.”
“Oh. Did you? Oh. Well...” Horatio’s voice tailed off and he shuffled uncomfortably.
Archie felt a familiar pang of guilt twisting in his chest.
“Or maybe not, maybe I said something else, I can’t remember,” he lied, “it’s a long time ago.”
“Really? You can’t remember when we met?” Horatio looked so crestfallen, his woeful expression so at odds with the pristine formality of his lieutenant’s uniform, that Archie had to resist a powerful urge to embrace him where he stood.
“Well of course I remember that,” he replied brightly. “You heaved your guts up at my feet. How could I possibly forget? You certainly know how to make an entrance Horatio, there’s no denying that.”
“Archie...”
“Talking of which,” Archie continued, “it’s high time you made your exit before you freeze to death. Come on.” He laid his hand on Horatio’s shoulder and steered him away from the rail. As they reached the companion he stopped, his hand still resting on his friend’s shoulder.
“Five years?
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore: this is the second of our reign.”
“What on earth are you talking about Archie?” Horatio stared at him in bemusement.
“It’s Donne, Horatio, ‘The Anniversary’. I’ll read it to you later. Now get below will you.”
“You’ll read it to me? I have your word on that?” Horatio’s eyes were shining.
“Yes, you have my word. Now get off my deck Mr Hornblower before I have to order you below.”
“Aye, aye, Mr Kennedy, below it is.” Still smiling, Horatio saluted smartly and made his way down the companion.
Archie remembered. Of course he remembered, it was outwith his power to forget. He was cursed with a long memory. He remembered every day of those last five years, every crawling moment of the three that went before. It was only when his thoughts turned to Spain that his memory failed him. Of his last two weeks in the pit he remembered nothing.
Archie gazed unseeing across Spithead, familiar in its every detail. How many nights had he stood there, numb with horror, willing himself to lift a shot from the rack and drop quietly over the side? Why he had not done so, he could not fathom. Certainly not fear of mortal sin, after all, he’d been damned long since. Stubbornness? Fear? Hope? He couldn’t say. And yet here he was, five years hence. Still gazing out over Spithead. Still trying to forget.
Archie bent all his will to forgetting; always look forward, never back, always trying to escape the darkness. But even in the dark, even in the hopeless oblivion of Ferrol, there had been a glimmer of light; Horatio’s shining belief that he was one of them, his unflinching determination that he would not be left behind. Of course he had not believed it at the time, hating Horatio for his persistence, for his determination to drag him back to the Indefatigable where all would see his shame, back to the fleet where Simpson would be waiting. But Simpson was gone, and strange to tell, he was one of them, an Indefatigable, and he had remained so through all the long lost years of captivity in France and Spain. His name never struck from the ship’s books by a captain who did not make casual errors.
And then there was that other light, that spark that kindled in Horatio’s eyes, once they were alone, behind a door that shut; that precious light that drove back the darkness and lit an unquenchable fire within. Still staring out over the anchorage, the lights on the water dissolved before Archie’s gaze, replaced by long lithe limbs that twined about his own, a strong straight back that arched to his touch, dark curls that hung about his face, darker lashes drifting shut and full lips parting to meet his kiss.
The man at the con coughed, stamping his feet to keep warm and pacing a slow deliberate circle around the wheel.
Archie’s face flushed. A fine officer of the watch he watch he made, the Amazon’s mids could have boarded the frigate and carried their flagstaff off right under his nose while he stood there dreaming. And a high time he would have explaining such dereliction of duty to the captain! Berating himself for his lack of discipline, Archie squared his shoulders and crossed the quarterdeck, taking up the same station by the binnacle that Horatio had lately vacated.
He had remembered the date of course, and the lines of Donne had been running through his head all day. That he had shared the joy of Horatio’s friendship for three of those five years seemed nothing short of miraculous. To attain threescore might be an improbable hope, they were at war after all and the future was far from certain, but every day by Horatio’s side added to that tally, and with every day that passed, Archie took one more step away from the darkness and into the light.