Smile
Title: Smile
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / (Hornblower), Bush
Rating: R
Notes: Grim Kingston angst fic. A companion piece to Pointless, and which refers back to Friend and Foe and Kiss of Life. Apologies for the second person. I've no idea why it came out like this.
Kingston January 1802
It would have been too much to hope for. To die an old man, at home, surrounded by people who cared. Men like you don't die like that. Men like you die young. With precious little ceremony. Not that you feel young. You left your youth behind years ago. Torn away in Justinian's hold. But you're not old enough to die. Not now. Not now that you've come so far.
Now that you've come so far with him.
It's the thought that he'll be left alone that starts the fear crawling in your belly. That suffocating fear that smothers your breath and leaves you gasping and pleading and raging.
You knew your turn would come, surely sooner rather than later. That you’ve lived this long and evaded the noose must surely be a miracle, or the whim of some fickle god. You hoped it would be an honourable death. Quick and clean, over in an instant. Wind of shot perhaps, or a single musket shot, with just a moment left to blink and smile. Or maybe drowning. You'd come close once. A lifetime ago it seemed, in the freezing waters off Camaret Bay. You could still remember the calm fascination as cold glassy arms encircled you, squeezing the breath from your chest. No panic then. Not till they threw you unceremoniously on the deck, and he kissed you. You've never forgotten that kiss. The look of disbelief and determination in his eyes. As if belief alone could bring you back. And it did. It did.
His belief brought you back and you got your wish. You got your bullet and you'll get to drown, in your own blood in the stifling heat of the Kingston gaol. No more sea cold kisses for you. The thought that you will never feel the touch of his lips again draws the darkness closer. But even as you bite down hard against tears that would never fall, you know that nothing and no one, neither Spanish lead nor Admiralty justice, can take away what he gave you. These treasures are yours forever and the darkness recedes with every remembered kiss, every touch, every breath. Every time he smiled.
You can see his lips so clearly; deep and full and parted. You’ve never forgotten the first time you kissed him, the way he'd stiffened in shock and then that glorious moment of melting capitulation. And then he'd hit you. You've teased him about it mercilessly for years. He’d sigh and roll his eyes. And then he’d smile.
But now you’re afraid. Afraid for him, afraid he will cut himself off behind an implacable façade of duty and honour. Cold and hard and impervious. And the man who laughed and pleaded and begged you to please, just please, will die as surely as you.
Perhaps you should be glad, take some comfort in the fact that there is a part of him that will only ever belong to you. You know there will be others, you know there have been others. But they will never touch him the way you have. They will never see him pleading and helpless with love and with laughter. Perhaps you should be glad, but you would not wish that fate on him. You know that loneliness. To condemn him to that life is your worst fear. Even now, you would sell what little remains of your soul to see him smile.
But no. He won't be alone. Pellew will see his foot on the ladder and his name on the list. And there’s Bush. That Bush is here is a comfort. He's too stubborn to die. Bush will be his commander, not for long, but he'll see him by.
Weary, so weary. All you want to do is close your eyes and sleep. But you struggle with every ounce of your failing strength, afraid that if you close your eyes it will just stop. Even now, you can't help pondering the irony. How many times did you pray for it all to stop? In the hold, in gaols to numerous to recall, on the bridge, in the pit? But not now, not now, it can’t stop now. Not now you’ve come this far.
Archie woke with a jolt, unsure if he’d slept for hours or closed his eyes for a second. Bush was snoring quietly in his cot. The darkness had passed and the grey light of dawn was filtering through the bars of the cell.
There would be time to sleep soon enough.
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / (Hornblower), Bush
Rating: R
Notes: Grim Kingston angst fic. A companion piece to Pointless, and which refers back to Friend and Foe and Kiss of Life. Apologies for the second person. I've no idea why it came out like this.
Kingston January 1802
It would have been too much to hope for. To die an old man, at home, surrounded by people who cared. Men like you don't die like that. Men like you die young. With precious little ceremony. Not that you feel young. You left your youth behind years ago. Torn away in Justinian's hold. But you're not old enough to die. Not now. Not now that you've come so far.
Now that you've come so far with him.
It's the thought that he'll be left alone that starts the fear crawling in your belly. That suffocating fear that smothers your breath and leaves you gasping and pleading and raging.
You knew your turn would come, surely sooner rather than later. That you’ve lived this long and evaded the noose must surely be a miracle, or the whim of some fickle god. You hoped it would be an honourable death. Quick and clean, over in an instant. Wind of shot perhaps, or a single musket shot, with just a moment left to blink and smile. Or maybe drowning. You'd come close once. A lifetime ago it seemed, in the freezing waters off Camaret Bay. You could still remember the calm fascination as cold glassy arms encircled you, squeezing the breath from your chest. No panic then. Not till they threw you unceremoniously on the deck, and he kissed you. You've never forgotten that kiss. The look of disbelief and determination in his eyes. As if belief alone could bring you back. And it did. It did.
His belief brought you back and you got your wish. You got your bullet and you'll get to drown, in your own blood in the stifling heat of the Kingston gaol. No more sea cold kisses for you. The thought that you will never feel the touch of his lips again draws the darkness closer. But even as you bite down hard against tears that would never fall, you know that nothing and no one, neither Spanish lead nor Admiralty justice, can take away what he gave you. These treasures are yours forever and the darkness recedes with every remembered kiss, every touch, every breath. Every time he smiled.
You can see his lips so clearly; deep and full and parted. You’ve never forgotten the first time you kissed him, the way he'd stiffened in shock and then that glorious moment of melting capitulation. And then he'd hit you. You've teased him about it mercilessly for years. He’d sigh and roll his eyes. And then he’d smile.
But now you’re afraid. Afraid for him, afraid he will cut himself off behind an implacable façade of duty and honour. Cold and hard and impervious. And the man who laughed and pleaded and begged you to please, just please, will die as surely as you.
Perhaps you should be glad, take some comfort in the fact that there is a part of him that will only ever belong to you. You know there will be others, you know there have been others. But they will never touch him the way you have. They will never see him pleading and helpless with love and with laughter. Perhaps you should be glad, but you would not wish that fate on him. You know that loneliness. To condemn him to that life is your worst fear. Even now, you would sell what little remains of your soul to see him smile.
But no. He won't be alone. Pellew will see his foot on the ladder and his name on the list. And there’s Bush. That Bush is here is a comfort. He's too stubborn to die. Bush will be his commander, not for long, but he'll see him by.
Weary, so weary. All you want to do is close your eyes and sleep. But you struggle with every ounce of your failing strength, afraid that if you close your eyes it will just stop. Even now, you can't help pondering the irony. How many times did you pray for it all to stop? In the hold, in gaols to numerous to recall, on the bridge, in the pit? But not now, not now, it can’t stop now. Not now you’ve come this far.
Archie woke with a jolt, unsure if he’d slept for hours or closed his eyes for a second. Bush was snoring quietly in his cot. The darkness had passed and the grey light of dawn was filtering through the bars of the cell.
There would be time to sleep soon enough.