(Untitled)

[nevertouchthem]

Who: William Bush, Archie Kennedy, Horatio Hornblower, anyone else on the Empress
When: Evening of Day 50
Where: The OCEAN.
What: Bush finds himself at sea, but not in the sense that makes him comfortable.
Rating: PG?

Comments

[seventeensir]

If anything, the quiet unnerved Horatio Hornblower more than the din of battle. There had been multiple warnings about strange creatures on land, things that could barely be seen. The captain had spent much of the day watching the shore, debating whether moving sand on the beach was caused by the wind or something unseen walking. He didn't like the idea of an enemy he could not see.

A noise broke through his thoughts, and he reached for his pistol as he turned away from the shore and toward the sea. A second later, he identified it. Not an attack, no. Distress. He abandoned his glass on the deck-- his eyes were good enough to see where and how far the disturbance was. His pistols joined the eyepiece, then his sword was loosed as well. Finally, he removed his uniform jacket.

For only a second, he wondered where they had come from. He'd watched the only visible land all day, and no boats had set out. There were no other ships in sight, and they were near enough that he felt he should have heard such cries before now. Who they were and how they'd gotten into the middle of the ocean were questions for later, though. What mattered now was making sure they lived long enough to be asked those questions.

Without even a glance toward the others on deck, he dove into the water.

[nevertouchthem]

No, no, no! The thing was trying to get away! Which meant it was alive. Which meant it could hear...

"Please! Don't!" Bush choked out the words, swallowing some saltwater in the process. As he tried to cough it out, one hand managed to clamp down on the other man's wrist. At least he'd have that much to hold on to. "I can't swim!"

Somehow he managed to get his head above water and, through the water dripping in his eyes, caught a glimpse of the face of his companion, a face he hadn't seen for quite some time.

Yes, he was either dead already or his mind was slipping quickly.

[noprevaricating]

Archie coughed up more salt water only to inhale even more, flailing in panic. It sounded like Mr. Bush's unmistakable voice. Was this supposed to be some sort of near-death metaphor? Bush dragging him down into the depths? Why Bush? Was this part of Purgatory? Cold water instead of white fire? He hacked and spat and tried hard to breathe. Seconds passed without anything hideously bad happening. The panic began to abate, just barely, and he regained just enough sense to realize that if he tried to keep the imaginary Bush afloat, his own chances would improve. He took the other lieutenant by the arms and did his best. That was easier. Hack, cough.

[seventeensir]

A familiar voice. Familiar words. The man could have laughed were the situation less dire. Thank God above, there was a friend to be found in this place!

A friend, though, who was going to drown another man if he did not quickly provide assistance. He swam quickly to his lieutenant's side, giving the other only a passing glance. He wasn't ungrateful, of course, but he had to think of his men first. And maybe Bush could tell him what had become of the others. What the fate of the Hotspur was. He grabbed one of Bush's arms, hauling it up to his own shoulders and neck. Alone? Pure suicide. A drowning man with that sort of hold would take another down with him. But with another... With another, he'd done this before. He could do it again.

"Mr. Bush!" His shout was somewhat less imposing than it might otherwise have been, as he was struggling to stay afloat. "Calm yourself now, or you will drown us all!" Horatio could only pray that William was not so far lost to panic that he could not be reached with sense. Even some small part of him. He looked over at the other man but did not really see him. His mind was too many other places. "Sir! There's a ship just there!" He did his best to nod at it and point with his free hand, though that enterprise was abandoned quickly to return to struggling against the water. "If we can get there, we can board!"

[nevertouchthem]

Oh thank God, this Kennedy specter was helping him. That small bit of hope helped Bush calm down slightly, only flailing every few seconds (though it felt like years) instead of continuously.

And that hope grew when he heard a familiar voice. If this was the afterlife God was being awfully generous. It almost didn't seem to fit. He reached out toward his captain, as if that would help. "Horatio. You're here, too."

As soon as he had someone on either side of him, Bush put his faith in them, glancing upward when Horatio mentioned the ship. And indeed there was a ship, though it looked...Chinese in origin, or so he thought. Either way it most definitely was not the Hotspur.

[noprevaricating]

Well, this was familiar.

"Aye-aye, Mr. Hornblower," aspirated Archie Kennedy.

If this is my chance to do everything over, I won't. Whether he was speaking to God or not, it was the truth. The ship grew closer. His eyes focused on her hull, not her deck, simply trying to keep it in sight until he touched planks. His teeth were starting to chatter, and he didn't care. If this was his chance to do everything over, the location got screwed up, because the water of the Caribbean was much warmer than this even in January.

Touch planks he did, clinging to the first rung of the ladder and trying to encourage Bush to go up first.

[seventeensir]

Horatio would ask later how the man knew him. He had not given his name, he was sure, but there were more pressing concerns. Like his own body. Every muscle felt heavy, and he was starting to feel the exhaustion he thought he'd slept off. Not to mention the water reminded him of how cold he'd been all last night. The air was warm, and the water was not as cold as it had been-- the heat of the day meant that it had not cooled as much as it would have by morning. Still, the hull of the Empress was under his hand, and he could manage to stay afloat at least this much longer.

"After you gentlemen," Horatio managed, though his breath was coming hard as he realized the effort it had taken to make this trip.

Still, his objective was complete. They were both alive, though thoroughly soaked, and soon they would be on deck. Dry clothes and warm drinks... food, too. He wondered when the last time he'd eaten had been. Nothing today, he didn't think. Nothing that he could remember.

[nevertouchthem]

In any other case, Bush wouldn't act so selfishly, but there was a ship and he would not pass up his chance to stand once more on the deck, far above the suffocating waters. He moved sluggishly at first, getting his footing back, but quickly made his way up the ladder.

Back on deck was where he was supposed to be and even though this was a foreign lady, he felt so much more at peace. Bush took a moment to breathe, but then knelt down in front of the ladder and held out his hand to the next man to come up.

[noprevaricating]

When Horatio Hornblower was being a humanitarian, there was no use arguing with him. Archie was next up, not quite looking at anything when he took Bush's hand and pulled himself aboard.

"Thank you, M-Mister Bush." It took a second to steady himself, then he turned to help Horatio aboard, offering a shaking hand.

[seventeensir]

Horatio followed once he could be sure he wouldn't be rushing the man before him. Even a few steps up-- out of the water and just in the sun and air-- felt better. He gripped the hand offered him, shivering a bit himself as he did so, and hauled himself up.

Safely on deck, he let himself breathe and tried to ignore his own shaking. He looked at Bush, trying to see if he'd suffered anything worse than the swim. A nod toward the third man would suffice for now. "Th-thank you, sir. I am... quite in your debt for your assistance."

He turned his head to properly thank the man and offer his hand, but he froze. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened, as if he intended to speak, but nothing came out. He made no move forward or back... merely stared.

[nevertouchthem]

Bush nodded to Archie and took a step back, not wanting to crowd the man. It also gave him a moment to retrieve his wits so that when Horatio came back on deck, he wouldn't be an emotional mess.

Just a waterlogged mess.

Of course, he wasn't quite ready to accept that he had died somehow, though Archie's appearance here, wherever here was, confused him greatly. He didn't feel dead, but he also didn't feel like this was some surreal dream. He hadn't drank that much wine at dinner, had he? But there was no way Archie Kennedy, who had died in Jamaica, could be here, now, in any logical sense.

Bush mulled over this, the thoughts running together in his mushy mind, as he gave the two men space to become acquainted. If this wasn't a dream, then surely Horatio would be just as confused as he was. And Bush knew he and Archie were almost closer than kin. It wouldn't be right to interrupt them now.

[noprevaricating]

Suddenly it occured to Kennedy that this may not be Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. It wouldn't make sense. He had appeared just in time to save Bush from drowning, and Horatio had mistaken him for a stranger. Now his old friend was staring, as if this helpful stranger had disappeared before his very eyes. No, this wasn't the afterlife.

"I must be haunting you."

That was the only possible explanation, unless the last few days had only been a bad dream good God let them be a bad dream. He was a ghost and this was England, and that was why Horatio had more lines around his eyes, a deeper chisel to his cheeks, than he had had a few minutes ago when Archie was drowning in his own blood. One hand reached out slowly, tentatively, white shivering fingertips stretched toward the shoulder of the blood brother he had last seen when he had died.

"Horatio? Can you see me?"

[seventeensir]

His breath caught in his throat. He tried to speak once or twice more before he gave up. The chill was forgotten, and the dampness of his clothes was nothing. He heard and saw nothing but the man in front of him. A man he'd seen die. He'd sat there and watched Archie die. He had even sat there after. For hours.

And yet...

And yet here...

Standing before him...

"Archie?"

His eyes were deceiving him. Eyes, ears, mind. Everything was conspiring against him. It had to be. How in God's name was this even--

He gasped, taking a step back when those fingers touched his shoulder, but it was more out of shock than anything else. This was no ghost. He'd been touched. Archie was flesh and blood and standing before him. Solid. Here.

Here.

"Archie," he said again.

He lashed a hand out to grab the other man by the arm. He gave a sharp tug on the arm and stepped forward. His own arm wrapped around Archie; his hand clutched the man's shoulder from behind. The way he held onto him, it didn't look like Horatio had plans to let go any time soon.

[nevertouchthem]

As the two men spoke, Bush kept his eye on them both, though he didn't make a move to interrupt them. It was understandable that Horatio didn't know how to react at first. Bush was sure he wouldn't be much better if he were in the man's shoes.

So when the two finally embraced, he relaxed a little bit, though he was still confused as to how all this could be happening. Even so, if Horatio was happy again, then he would be as well.

[noprevaricating]

Out of instinct, he threw his arms around his friend, clutching him like the half-drowned Bush had clutched him. Was he still dying? No--he could remember dying. He could remember sinking out of life like letting go of a line to disappear into the water. He knew he died. He also knew he was gasping air now, and his heart was pounding against his ribs like it wanted out, which meant he was alive. He knew he had died, and he knew he was alive now. It didn't make sense, but these were truths, as solid as Horatio was in the circle of his arms.

More than anything, he knew that he had thought he would never see Horatio again. That's what made him go nearly boneless in the captain's arms. What was happening, or what happened next, couldn't be too bad.

[leastof2weevils]

"What on earth is going on up here?"

What happened next, of course, was the inevitable emergence of the Empress' other passengers. Upon hearing the commotion, Jack Aubrey had rushed onto the deck as quickly as his legs could take him. The sight of the three men standing there streaming water when there had only been, to his knowledge, one perfectly dry man there previously, then, was undoubtedly...puzzling. Where had the other two come from? There was no sign of any other boat around them in the water, save for the Wicked Wench, which he already knew was empty.

"Captain Hornblower?"

He drew closer, his guard up. In the dim lamp light he could at least recognize the uniform of a Navy man on one of them.

"You are hardly in any shape to be diving into the water--you could have called me before leaping in yourself." He paused to survey Bush and Kennedy. "Though I am certain that these two are grateful for your actions, rash though they were."