Just A Man
Title: Just A Man
Author: Anteros
Characters: Archie Kennedy / Horatio Hornblower
Rating: R
Notes: Angst! Lots of it! Set after On the Bridge. Thanks to esmerelda_t for patient beta and for inciting Archie it increasing fits of temper.
I
For a time it was enough, more than enough, that they had survived. But Archie could not ignore the pain and doubt that was nagging at him. At first he hadn't given a thought to the dead girl on the bridge. He had seen enough of the French wars to know that death was not the sole preserve of soldiers and seamen. He had seen enough to guess what was happening in the town. But he knew Horatio well enough to realise that the senseless slaughter of innocent men, women and children had wounded him deeply. That this one pretty corpse was of any more significance than hundreds of others did not occur to him. Not at first.
But as the days passed and the ship drifted aimlessly, becalmed in the light airs that had bedevilled the expedition from the first, Archie could not ignore the doubt that prowled at the edge of thought and the pain that spread like a bruise across his breast.
Horatio returned to his duties as before and resumed the implacable facade of lieutenant of His Majesty's Royal Navy. But he was a closed book. Even Archie could not read him, and that troubled him more than all the doubts. He knew the captain was watching Horatio, he was watching them all to be sure, but Archie knew his particular attention was turned to his junior lieutenant. Archie also knew that he was the only one who had heard Horatio tossing restlessly in the night, through the thin canvas partition that separated their cabins. Archie was the only one who had heard the strangled sob and the name Horatio cried in the black of the middle watch. Mariette. Her name. Archie lay awake in the darkness, listening, as fury and fear warred in his breast.
II
In the end it was the Major that confirmed his suspicions. Three days out of Quiberon, coming off watch, he entered the wardroom and found Horatio and Edrington seated at the table. Horatio was staring at an untouched glass of wine on the table in front of him, the Major refilling his empty glass from the bottle.
"You did your best Hornblower, no man can do more. You'll meet many more like her no doubt. They say nothing turns the ladies heads like those blue jackets. Can't see it myself I must say but I'll wager you'll agree."
Edrington arched one brow enquiringly and drained his glass. Archie could see Horatio's jaw clenching as he rose from the table. He left without acknowledging Archie and the bruised thing in his chest started to flutter in fear.
"Care to join me Kennedy?" Edrington gestured to the half-empty bottle.
"Thank you M'Lord, if you'll excuse me."
Without sitting Archie picked up Horatio's glass and drained it before retreating to his cabin. He lay on his cot through the first watch and stared at nothing. The light faded to darkness. Archie bent all that remained of his will on trying not to think, not to feel.
It was four bells into the middle watch before he went on deck. The ship was motionless, becalmed under a starless sky. Horatio was on the quarterdeck. Archie could just make out the hunched figure from the light of the binnacle. The fluttering thing in his chest had metamorphosed into something heavy that slid sickeningly as he ascended the quarterdeck companion. Horatio looked up, the dim light deepening the shadows under his eyes.
"Mr Kennedy," he acknowledged flatly.
Archie licked his lip nervously. "Horatio...who was she?"
Horatio straightened his back and lifted his chin.
"Her name was Mariette."
"I know her name, Horatio. You've been calling her name for the last three nights."
Horatio shot Archie a look that made the thing in his chest coil and writhe.
"I must know Horatio, what was she to you?"
Horatio's silence confirmed the answer he already knew. It took all Archie's strength to descend the companion without his knees buckling. On gaining the wardroom he just made it to his cabin where he vomited into the small bowl on the washstand. Then he called for the steward to bring a bottle of brandy and closed the door. The brandy washed away the bile but lit a spark of anger that fed on the hollow fear in his breast. He drank steadily until the canvas walls lurched and spun about him. At least he would hear nothing that night.
III
It was three more days before the wind picked up and backed sufficiently for the Indefatigable to gain enough sail to carry them back to Spithead.
Once the troops had disembarked the captain insisted that all that officers that had landed in Quiberon take several days shore leave. Horatio requested to remain on the ship to assist the First Lieutenant, a request that was flatly denied.
"Come on Horatio, who knows when we'll have another chance of shore leave? No doubt we'll be back to bloody blockade duty next time we put out." Archie's smile was genuine. The anger had burned down so a tiny ember that he could ignore if he chose to look away. Eventually Horatio condescended to repair with Archie to a comfortable inn not far from the port.
Desperation carried them through the first night. They were no sooner through the door of their room than they fell on each other. Hands tangling in hair, lips crushed in hard hungry kisses. Then they were pulling at jackets, shirts breeches. Archie could feel his stomach lurch sickeningly as Horatio tore at his shirt; rough nails raking across his shoulders. But his own hunger carried him over the panic rising in his throat. He was desperate to get through to Horatio. He had to reach his skin, to touch him, to feel his warmth, to know he was real and alive. To know that he was there. The desperate wave of need overwhelmed them, carried them beyond tenderness and care and left them washed up spent and gasping on the bed.
Horatio disentangled himself first, rolling over on his side to face the wall. Archie remained on his back and started up at ceiling, listening to Horatio's breath as it slowed and eased and fell into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Archie lay still. The sheets were damp and sticky between them but Archie had felt no release. The poisonous thing in his chest had coiled tighter still. Horatio felt the same, Archie knew every inch of him. He could see him, touch him, smell him, hear his regular breath but he still couldn't reach him. Archie was no closer to Horatio now than he had been when he had waited out the long hours on the bridge. The thing in his chest twisted sharply. In place of release and contentment was a hollow feeling of unease.
IV
Archie must have eventually drifted off to sleep for when he woke it was morning. Horatio was still asleep, curled behind him, his breath warm and even on Archie's back. There had been no dreams. The unease of the previous night had all but vanished leaving just a trace of a shadow.
The day had started well enough. Horatio had woken late and rested and after a leisurely breakfast they had wandered away from the docks and up through the town. However by the time they had returned to their inn later in the afternoon Horatio had retreated into a tight gloomy silence. Dinner was a strained and silent affair. All Archie's attempts at conversation died on his lips. The thing in his chest stirred and woke.
After dinner Horatio declined to join Archie in the smoking room preferring to find a club to play cards. Archie smiled brightly.
"Would you like me to come? I don't mind."
"No. Thank you Archie, there's no need, you'd just get bored. I'll be back later."
Archie concentrated on keeping the smile hitched in place as Horatio left. "Take care Horatio. Don't loose all your wages."
The smoking room was warm and comfortable. There were cigars, brandies, port and the latest editions of the Gazette and the Gentleman's Magazine. But the brandy tasted bitter and the cigar made Archie's eyes sting. He was angry at Horatio for leaving, angry at himself for letting him go and angrier yet for caring.
The hours dragged. Archie knew there were places he could go. Places where there would be men who would be glad of his company. There was little point in him sitting there like a spurned jo. He drained the last of the brandy, fetched his coat and left.
He still knew the way and despite several deliberate wrong turnings he arrived at the inn too soon. The same sign hung over the door. Inside there would be a long low room, behind that a smaller room with a door that lead out into the alley that ran behind the inn. It was a quiet part of town, there was no reason for a man to pass that way unless he had business. Archie hesitated. The door of the inn opened and two men stepped out passing Archie as they left the inn. One was a cavalry officer, the other wearing a uniform Archie didn't recognise. They were laughing, the taller man clapped the other on the shoulder. He watched them go, anger mingling with envy and contempt.
Archie turned away and walked by long roads back towards the port.
It was late when he returned. Horatio's jacket was hanging by the door and Archie could just make out the long shape on the bed. He lit a single candle and undressed quietly. Horatio's clothes were draped over the back of a chair by the dresser. Archie lifted his waistcoat and checked the breast pocket. The ten pound reserve that Horatio unfailingly placed there when he went out to play cards was gone. He bit his lip, anger mixed with resentment. If Horatio lost all his wages Archie would have to pay for their lodgings. He didn't mind paying, he had the money, not much to be sure, but enough. What he minded was the inevitability of it.
It was still pitch dark when the cry dragged Archie up from the depths of sleep. Horatio was tossing restlessly in the bed beside him, the words were incomprehensible but the anguish was plain. And through it all, one name, her name. "Mariette. No, please Mariette."
Archie placed a hand on his shoulder attempting to draw him closer. "Shhhh, Horatio, hush. It's all right, hush". Horatio shrugged him off and turned back towards the wall curling in on himself. Eventually the shallow sobs diminished and the room was silent.
Archie knew about solitude. He knew what it was like to be utterly alone on a ship of eight hundred souls, he knew the solitary confinement of innumerable prison cells, he knew the anonymity of the tide of human flotsam cast adrift on the tide the war, he knew the suffocating isolation of the pit. But never had Archie felt such crushing loneliness as he felt lying beside Horatio as he turned his back on him, a woman's name on his lips. Archie closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip until it bled.
V
The following day was a repetition of the first, the following night the same.
VI
Archie pulled on his breeches and was sitting, shirt in hand, opposite the bed. The cold night air made his skin prickle but he had lost the will to dress further. He had intended to leave but as always his will failed him at the last. There was just enough light filtering through the skylight to make out the figure sprawled on the bed, one arm thrown across his face. He was still now. The dream had passed. Archie sighed, stood up and pulled the shirt over his head struggling slightly in the dim light. He retrieved his boots from under the bed, pulled them on and was lifting his jacket from the hook by the door when a movement from the bed made him stop.
"Archie?"
Horatio's voice was thick with sleep. Archie hung his head but could not bring himself to turn round and look at his companion. If he turned round he would never leave.
"Archie, you all right? Where you going?" He sounded like he was barely awake. "Archie?"
"I'm fine Horatio." Archie's hand was on the door knob. "I couldn't sleep is all. You...you woke me."
"Oh. Sorry."
There was such defeat in the muttered response that was so at odds with the man Archie thought he knew that he couldn't help but turn around. Horatio had propped himself up on one elbow but he wasn't looking at Archie, he was gazing at the empty space in the bed where Archie had been lying awake gritting his teeth.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "I had a dream."
"I know you had a dream," Archie sighed. "That's why I think I had better go Horatio."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Does it matter where? You need to sleep Horatio. I'll be back in the morning."
Archie stepped back towards the door and turned the handle. The small click was almost loud enough to drown out the soft "please" breathed from the shadows behind him.
"Please Archie, please stay."
The catch in his voice was enough to make Archie stop and run his hands wearily over his eyes.
"Why?" It was sharper than he intended. "Why should I stay?"
Horatio sank back on to the bed and threw his arm across his eyes again.
"Just...just so I know you're here."
Archie snorted quietly and shook his head.
"I dreamed you were dead."
"You dreamed I was dead?" Archie's tone was incredulous. He could feel cold bitter anger rising and didn't care to stop it. "Horatio I can assure you that I am quite alive and it did not sound as though it was me you were concerned about."
"Archie stop, please, stop. I...I dreamed you were lying dead on the bridge, in the dust and she kept trying to pull me away from you. I was shouting at her to stop. Her hands were so cold. You could have died Archie, and I can't stop thinking on it. You could have died."
"I could have died? Horatio as I recall you were the one that had to be dragged off that bridge."
Sheer bloody anger was making Archie's head spin. He leaned back against the door, it felt reassuringly heavy and solid behind him. The handle dug into his back just above his hip and he pressed back against it. Trying to focus on the dull pain rather than the cold hollow fury breaking over him in waves.
"Why did you do it Archie?"
"Why? Did you think I would stand by and see you blown to pieces Horatio? Do you think so little of me? Do you think me such a coward? I may be prone to panic but I am not a complete..."
"No, Archie, no!" Horatio cut him off, he had risen from the bed and was kneeling on the matress, the crumpled sheet pooled around his waist. "Of course I don't think you're a coward. That's not what I mean. It's just... I don't know... I don't know what I mean." He hung his head, long fingers twisting in the white sheet. "Sometimes, sometimes I wish the spark had won and the whole damn bridge had gone and taken you and me and her with it."
"Is that what you want Horatio? Do you wish me dead? Am I such an inconvenience that you would be rid of me by any means possible even if it was the end of you too? If I am such a despised hindrance to you Horatio you have only to say and I will willingly turn around and walk out that door and be gone."
It was unjustified and a lie and Archie could hear his voice breaking even as he spat the words out.
"No! No Archie! How can you say that? How can you think that I would wish to see you harmed? After after all... I just, I just want this to stop. All those people that died in the square. There was no sense to it. It was just butchery, madness. And we brought it on them, I brought it on them. I thought if I could save her...just one."
"Save her? Oh how very bloody noble of you Horatio. But I don't think it was saving her that was on your mind."
"Stop Archie, stop. I'm sorry, I just wanted it to stop."
"Stop? Stop Horatio? It won't ever stop. This is it. This is what we are here for, this is war. It doesn't stop. God knows I've prayed it..."
Archie's anger was burning out, doused by the cold weight of helplessness. He suddenly felt cold and tired beyond endurance. His head was aching and he had an overwhelming desire to just lie down beside Horatio and forget it all. But he couldn't forget it. He let his legs go from under him and slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, head bowed to his knees.
Archie knew all too well the relentless horror that was crowding Horatio's every waking moment, making sleep a thing to fear and dreams a place of dread. He knew that horror and it pained him inexplicably that Horatio had to know it too. But at the same time some bitter twisted part of Archie wanted Horatio to suffer, wanted him to know the hollow weight of that pain. He tilted his head back against the door and squeezed his eyes tight shut.
VII
He didn't know how long he had sat there when he felt Horatio settle next to him.
"Archie."
There was something about the soft way that Horatio breathed his name that recalled dim memories of Spain.
"Archie I'm sorry."
Cold fingers brushed lightly over his clenched fist.
"I don't know what to say. I don't know why I did it but she wasn't to blame. I don't know, maybe I thought if I could just save one good thing from all that...that carnage. If I could just save her."
The fingers kept moving over and over the back of his hand, growing warmer now.
Archie opened his eyes and turned to look at his companion. Horatio was still naked save for the sheet twisted around his waist. His hair hung loose over his shoulders, his face gaunt and the dark shadows under his eyes blue in the thin dawn light. But something had cleared from his eyes, the glassy detachment that had made Archie's heart sink was gone. He just looked tired and sad. Archie lifted one hand and ran his fingers down the side of Horatio's face, smoothing away his hair.
"You're just a man Horatio. Just one man. You can't save them all. Often you won't even be able to save one of them. You could at least keep your hands to yourself though." Archie almost managed an unconvincing smile. "It's not your fault that she died any more than it's your fault we are at war. And even you can not claim credit for that."
Horatio caught the hand caressing his face and pressed it to his cheek.
"I don't deserve you Archie."
"No Horatio, I'm quite sure you don't."
Horatio turned towards him, the sheet falling away as he leaned in to kiss him. His lips were light and warm and he was there. Right there. Then long fingers were carefully unbuttoning jacket, waistcoat and shirt, slipping linen from skin. Horatio lay him down on sheet on the floor and everywhere the lightest kisses that burned deep and woke something in Archie that smothered all the fear and anger and left nothing in its place but the feel of Horatio's hands and his mouth and his skin on Archie's skin and his breath on his cheek and this time, this time he was there. Embracing him, surrounding him, slipping inside him, filling the hollowness until there was no place for pain or doubt. And this time it was Archie's name on his lips and when he cried out his eyes were open and he held Archie's gaze. Afterwards he didn't turn away.
VIII
The following night when Horatio woke calling the name of the dead French girl, Archie drew him close and held him until the dream passed and he stilled in his arms.
He's just a man. Just a man. Archie told himself. He had been a fool to think Horatio any different. I don't know why I did it. It was a paltry excuse and it still stung. But Archie also suspected it was the truth. Horatio had no other explanation and God help him, Archie knew what war did to a man. This would hang between them now, there was no undoing what had been done. But Archie could no more stop caring than he could stop the tide from turning so he locked the pain away, buried it deep with the shades of older hurts.
He turned and kissed the dark head pillowed on his shoulder then Archie Kennedy lay awake and stared at the darkness.
Author: Anteros
Characters: Archie Kennedy / Horatio Hornblower
Rating: R
Notes: Angst! Lots of it! Set after On the Bridge. Thanks to esmerelda_t for patient beta and for inciting Archie it increasing fits of temper.
I
For a time it was enough, more than enough, that they had survived. But Archie could not ignore the pain and doubt that was nagging at him. At first he hadn't given a thought to the dead girl on the bridge. He had seen enough of the French wars to know that death was not the sole preserve of soldiers and seamen. He had seen enough to guess what was happening in the town. But he knew Horatio well enough to realise that the senseless slaughter of innocent men, women and children had wounded him deeply. That this one pretty corpse was of any more significance than hundreds of others did not occur to him. Not at first.
But as the days passed and the ship drifted aimlessly, becalmed in the light airs that had bedevilled the expedition from the first, Archie could not ignore the doubt that prowled at the edge of thought and the pain that spread like a bruise across his breast.
Horatio returned to his duties as before and resumed the implacable facade of lieutenant of His Majesty's Royal Navy. But he was a closed book. Even Archie could not read him, and that troubled him more than all the doubts. He knew the captain was watching Horatio, he was watching them all to be sure, but Archie knew his particular attention was turned to his junior lieutenant. Archie also knew that he was the only one who had heard Horatio tossing restlessly in the night, through the thin canvas partition that separated their cabins. Archie was the only one who had heard the strangled sob and the name Horatio cried in the black of the middle watch. Mariette. Her name. Archie lay awake in the darkness, listening, as fury and fear warred in his breast.
II
In the end it was the Major that confirmed his suspicions. Three days out of Quiberon, coming off watch, he entered the wardroom and found Horatio and Edrington seated at the table. Horatio was staring at an untouched glass of wine on the table in front of him, the Major refilling his empty glass from the bottle.
"You did your best Hornblower, no man can do more. You'll meet many more like her no doubt. They say nothing turns the ladies heads like those blue jackets. Can't see it myself I must say but I'll wager you'll agree."
Edrington arched one brow enquiringly and drained his glass. Archie could see Horatio's jaw clenching as he rose from the table. He left without acknowledging Archie and the bruised thing in his chest started to flutter in fear.
"Care to join me Kennedy?" Edrington gestured to the half-empty bottle.
"Thank you M'Lord, if you'll excuse me."
Without sitting Archie picked up Horatio's glass and drained it before retreating to his cabin. He lay on his cot through the first watch and stared at nothing. The light faded to darkness. Archie bent all that remained of his will on trying not to think, not to feel.
It was four bells into the middle watch before he went on deck. The ship was motionless, becalmed under a starless sky. Horatio was on the quarterdeck. Archie could just make out the hunched figure from the light of the binnacle. The fluttering thing in his chest had metamorphosed into something heavy that slid sickeningly as he ascended the quarterdeck companion. Horatio looked up, the dim light deepening the shadows under his eyes.
"Mr Kennedy," he acknowledged flatly.
Archie licked his lip nervously. "Horatio...who was she?"
Horatio straightened his back and lifted his chin.
"Her name was Mariette."
"I know her name, Horatio. You've been calling her name for the last three nights."
Horatio shot Archie a look that made the thing in his chest coil and writhe.
"I must know Horatio, what was she to you?"
Horatio's silence confirmed the answer he already knew. It took all Archie's strength to descend the companion without his knees buckling. On gaining the wardroom he just made it to his cabin where he vomited into the small bowl on the washstand. Then he called for the steward to bring a bottle of brandy and closed the door. The brandy washed away the bile but lit a spark of anger that fed on the hollow fear in his breast. He drank steadily until the canvas walls lurched and spun about him. At least he would hear nothing that night.
III
It was three more days before the wind picked up and backed sufficiently for the Indefatigable to gain enough sail to carry them back to Spithead.
Once the troops had disembarked the captain insisted that all that officers that had landed in Quiberon take several days shore leave. Horatio requested to remain on the ship to assist the First Lieutenant, a request that was flatly denied.
"Come on Horatio, who knows when we'll have another chance of shore leave? No doubt we'll be back to bloody blockade duty next time we put out." Archie's smile was genuine. The anger had burned down so a tiny ember that he could ignore if he chose to look away. Eventually Horatio condescended to repair with Archie to a comfortable inn not far from the port.
Desperation carried them through the first night. They were no sooner through the door of their room than they fell on each other. Hands tangling in hair, lips crushed in hard hungry kisses. Then they were pulling at jackets, shirts breeches. Archie could feel his stomach lurch sickeningly as Horatio tore at his shirt; rough nails raking across his shoulders. But his own hunger carried him over the panic rising in his throat. He was desperate to get through to Horatio. He had to reach his skin, to touch him, to feel his warmth, to know he was real and alive. To know that he was there. The desperate wave of need overwhelmed them, carried them beyond tenderness and care and left them washed up spent and gasping on the bed.
Horatio disentangled himself first, rolling over on his side to face the wall. Archie remained on his back and started up at ceiling, listening to Horatio's breath as it slowed and eased and fell into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Archie lay still. The sheets were damp and sticky between them but Archie had felt no release. The poisonous thing in his chest had coiled tighter still. Horatio felt the same, Archie knew every inch of him. He could see him, touch him, smell him, hear his regular breath but he still couldn't reach him. Archie was no closer to Horatio now than he had been when he had waited out the long hours on the bridge. The thing in his chest twisted sharply. In place of release and contentment was a hollow feeling of unease.
IV
Archie must have eventually drifted off to sleep for when he woke it was morning. Horatio was still asleep, curled behind him, his breath warm and even on Archie's back. There had been no dreams. The unease of the previous night had all but vanished leaving just a trace of a shadow.
The day had started well enough. Horatio had woken late and rested and after a leisurely breakfast they had wandered away from the docks and up through the town. However by the time they had returned to their inn later in the afternoon Horatio had retreated into a tight gloomy silence. Dinner was a strained and silent affair. All Archie's attempts at conversation died on his lips. The thing in his chest stirred and woke.
After dinner Horatio declined to join Archie in the smoking room preferring to find a club to play cards. Archie smiled brightly.
"Would you like me to come? I don't mind."
"No. Thank you Archie, there's no need, you'd just get bored. I'll be back later."
Archie concentrated on keeping the smile hitched in place as Horatio left. "Take care Horatio. Don't loose all your wages."
The smoking room was warm and comfortable. There were cigars, brandies, port and the latest editions of the Gazette and the Gentleman's Magazine. But the brandy tasted bitter and the cigar made Archie's eyes sting. He was angry at Horatio for leaving, angry at himself for letting him go and angrier yet for caring.
The hours dragged. Archie knew there were places he could go. Places where there would be men who would be glad of his company. There was little point in him sitting there like a spurned jo. He drained the last of the brandy, fetched his coat and left.
He still knew the way and despite several deliberate wrong turnings he arrived at the inn too soon. The same sign hung over the door. Inside there would be a long low room, behind that a smaller room with a door that lead out into the alley that ran behind the inn. It was a quiet part of town, there was no reason for a man to pass that way unless he had business. Archie hesitated. The door of the inn opened and two men stepped out passing Archie as they left the inn. One was a cavalry officer, the other wearing a uniform Archie didn't recognise. They were laughing, the taller man clapped the other on the shoulder. He watched them go, anger mingling with envy and contempt.
Archie turned away and walked by long roads back towards the port.
It was late when he returned. Horatio's jacket was hanging by the door and Archie could just make out the long shape on the bed. He lit a single candle and undressed quietly. Horatio's clothes were draped over the back of a chair by the dresser. Archie lifted his waistcoat and checked the breast pocket. The ten pound reserve that Horatio unfailingly placed there when he went out to play cards was gone. He bit his lip, anger mixed with resentment. If Horatio lost all his wages Archie would have to pay for their lodgings. He didn't mind paying, he had the money, not much to be sure, but enough. What he minded was the inevitability of it.
It was still pitch dark when the cry dragged Archie up from the depths of sleep. Horatio was tossing restlessly in the bed beside him, the words were incomprehensible but the anguish was plain. And through it all, one name, her name. "Mariette. No, please Mariette."
Archie placed a hand on his shoulder attempting to draw him closer. "Shhhh, Horatio, hush. It's all right, hush". Horatio shrugged him off and turned back towards the wall curling in on himself. Eventually the shallow sobs diminished and the room was silent.
Archie knew about solitude. He knew what it was like to be utterly alone on a ship of eight hundred souls, he knew the solitary confinement of innumerable prison cells, he knew the anonymity of the tide of human flotsam cast adrift on the tide the war, he knew the suffocating isolation of the pit. But never had Archie felt such crushing loneliness as he felt lying beside Horatio as he turned his back on him, a woman's name on his lips. Archie closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip until it bled.
V
The following day was a repetition of the first, the following night the same.
VI
Archie pulled on his breeches and was sitting, shirt in hand, opposite the bed. The cold night air made his skin prickle but he had lost the will to dress further. He had intended to leave but as always his will failed him at the last. There was just enough light filtering through the skylight to make out the figure sprawled on the bed, one arm thrown across his face. He was still now. The dream had passed. Archie sighed, stood up and pulled the shirt over his head struggling slightly in the dim light. He retrieved his boots from under the bed, pulled them on and was lifting his jacket from the hook by the door when a movement from the bed made him stop.
"Archie?"
Horatio's voice was thick with sleep. Archie hung his head but could not bring himself to turn round and look at his companion. If he turned round he would never leave.
"Archie, you all right? Where you going?" He sounded like he was barely awake. "Archie?"
"I'm fine Horatio." Archie's hand was on the door knob. "I couldn't sleep is all. You...you woke me."
"Oh. Sorry."
There was such defeat in the muttered response that was so at odds with the man Archie thought he knew that he couldn't help but turn around. Horatio had propped himself up on one elbow but he wasn't looking at Archie, he was gazing at the empty space in the bed where Archie had been lying awake gritting his teeth.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "I had a dream."
"I know you had a dream," Archie sighed. "That's why I think I had better go Horatio."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Does it matter where? You need to sleep Horatio. I'll be back in the morning."
Archie stepped back towards the door and turned the handle. The small click was almost loud enough to drown out the soft "please" breathed from the shadows behind him.
"Please Archie, please stay."
The catch in his voice was enough to make Archie stop and run his hands wearily over his eyes.
"Why?" It was sharper than he intended. "Why should I stay?"
Horatio sank back on to the bed and threw his arm across his eyes again.
"Just...just so I know you're here."
Archie snorted quietly and shook his head.
"I dreamed you were dead."
"You dreamed I was dead?" Archie's tone was incredulous. He could feel cold bitter anger rising and didn't care to stop it. "Horatio I can assure you that I am quite alive and it did not sound as though it was me you were concerned about."
"Archie stop, please, stop. I...I dreamed you were lying dead on the bridge, in the dust and she kept trying to pull me away from you. I was shouting at her to stop. Her hands were so cold. You could have died Archie, and I can't stop thinking on it. You could have died."
"I could have died? Horatio as I recall you were the one that had to be dragged off that bridge."
Sheer bloody anger was making Archie's head spin. He leaned back against the door, it felt reassuringly heavy and solid behind him. The handle dug into his back just above his hip and he pressed back against it. Trying to focus on the dull pain rather than the cold hollow fury breaking over him in waves.
"Why did you do it Archie?"
"Why? Did you think I would stand by and see you blown to pieces Horatio? Do you think so little of me? Do you think me such a coward? I may be prone to panic but I am not a complete..."
"No, Archie, no!" Horatio cut him off, he had risen from the bed and was kneeling on the matress, the crumpled sheet pooled around his waist. "Of course I don't think you're a coward. That's not what I mean. It's just... I don't know... I don't know what I mean." He hung his head, long fingers twisting in the white sheet. "Sometimes, sometimes I wish the spark had won and the whole damn bridge had gone and taken you and me and her with it."
"Is that what you want Horatio? Do you wish me dead? Am I such an inconvenience that you would be rid of me by any means possible even if it was the end of you too? If I am such a despised hindrance to you Horatio you have only to say and I will willingly turn around and walk out that door and be gone."
It was unjustified and a lie and Archie could hear his voice breaking even as he spat the words out.
"No! No Archie! How can you say that? How can you think that I would wish to see you harmed? After after all... I just, I just want this to stop. All those people that died in the square. There was no sense to it. It was just butchery, madness. And we brought it on them, I brought it on them. I thought if I could save her...just one."
"Save her? Oh how very bloody noble of you Horatio. But I don't think it was saving her that was on your mind."
"Stop Archie, stop. I'm sorry, I just wanted it to stop."
"Stop? Stop Horatio? It won't ever stop. This is it. This is what we are here for, this is war. It doesn't stop. God knows I've prayed it..."
Archie's anger was burning out, doused by the cold weight of helplessness. He suddenly felt cold and tired beyond endurance. His head was aching and he had an overwhelming desire to just lie down beside Horatio and forget it all. But he couldn't forget it. He let his legs go from under him and slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, head bowed to his knees.
Archie knew all too well the relentless horror that was crowding Horatio's every waking moment, making sleep a thing to fear and dreams a place of dread. He knew that horror and it pained him inexplicably that Horatio had to know it too. But at the same time some bitter twisted part of Archie wanted Horatio to suffer, wanted him to know the hollow weight of that pain. He tilted his head back against the door and squeezed his eyes tight shut.
VII
He didn't know how long he had sat there when he felt Horatio settle next to him.
"Archie."
There was something about the soft way that Horatio breathed his name that recalled dim memories of Spain.
"Archie I'm sorry."
Cold fingers brushed lightly over his clenched fist.
"I don't know what to say. I don't know why I did it but she wasn't to blame. I don't know, maybe I thought if I could just save one good thing from all that...that carnage. If I could just save her."
The fingers kept moving over and over the back of his hand, growing warmer now.
Archie opened his eyes and turned to look at his companion. Horatio was still naked save for the sheet twisted around his waist. His hair hung loose over his shoulders, his face gaunt and the dark shadows under his eyes blue in the thin dawn light. But something had cleared from his eyes, the glassy detachment that had made Archie's heart sink was gone. He just looked tired and sad. Archie lifted one hand and ran his fingers down the side of Horatio's face, smoothing away his hair.
"You're just a man Horatio. Just one man. You can't save them all. Often you won't even be able to save one of them. You could at least keep your hands to yourself though." Archie almost managed an unconvincing smile. "It's not your fault that she died any more than it's your fault we are at war. And even you can not claim credit for that."
Horatio caught the hand caressing his face and pressed it to his cheek.
"I don't deserve you Archie."
"No Horatio, I'm quite sure you don't."
Horatio turned towards him, the sheet falling away as he leaned in to kiss him. His lips were light and warm and he was there. Right there. Then long fingers were carefully unbuttoning jacket, waistcoat and shirt, slipping linen from skin. Horatio lay him down on sheet on the floor and everywhere the lightest kisses that burned deep and woke something in Archie that smothered all the fear and anger and left nothing in its place but the feel of Horatio's hands and his mouth and his skin on Archie's skin and his breath on his cheek and this time, this time he was there. Embracing him, surrounding him, slipping inside him, filling the hollowness until there was no place for pain or doubt. And this time it was Archie's name on his lips and when he cried out his eyes were open and he held Archie's gaze. Afterwards he didn't turn away.
VIII
The following night when Horatio woke calling the name of the dead French girl, Archie drew him close and held him until the dream passed and he stilled in his arms.
He's just a man. Just a man. Archie told himself. He had been a fool to think Horatio any different. I don't know why I did it. It was a paltry excuse and it still stung. But Archie also suspected it was the truth. Horatio had no other explanation and God help him, Archie knew what war did to a man. This would hang between them now, there was no undoing what had been done. But Archie could no more stop caring than he could stop the tide from turning so he locked the pain away, buried it deep with the shades of older hurts.
He turned and kissed the dark head pillowed on his shoulder then Archie Kennedy lay awake and stared at the darkness.