The varying shore o' th' world
Title: The varying shore o' th' world 2/?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Horatio/Apollo
Summary: The dynamic duo set sail. Written in collaboration with mylodon
Having to report for duty at seven o’clock in the morning held little appeal if Adama’s look of reservation was anything to go by, although Horatio was far too distracted by the thought of putting to sea and the opportunity to repay his outstanding debts, to pay much attention to the battle that was being played out on the foreigner’s face. They walked slowly through the stone cobbled streets of Portsmouth to their lodgings, where Adama dispatched the lurking Mrs Mason with ease, and began to pack Horatio’s meagre belongings into his sea chest. Having little more than the clothes on his back and a few coins in his pocket, Adama watched with jealousy as a lifetime’s worth of memories were packed into the small wooden chest. He shook his head. His former life was over; it would do him no good to dwell on the past. If he was to live this life, with Horatio at his side what’s more, he would have to be honest about where he came from.
Adama exhaled loudly. Come on Lee. Just tell him the truth. Tell him now. His head span as his thoughts went to and fro like waves upon the shore, always returning to the one place he did not wish to go. Tell him. He opened his mouth to speak, stuttered a few monosyllabic sounds, and turned away in embarrassment. He had spent the past day earning Horatio’s trust by pretending to be something he wasn’t - a strategy that would never have worked in the long run but should have lasted longer than twenty four hours - and now had to admit to his deception before it became patently obvious the moment he stepped aboard Hambledon that he was no sailor.
“Horatio, I…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. When you asked me how I came to be in Portsmouth I knew you wouldn’t believe the full story, so I simplified it. Hell, I still don’t know how to explain everything.”
Horatio ran a hand over his face, his fingers trailing a path down from his high forehead to his mouth, where he chewed for a moment on a jagged fingernail. “You could start with your name.”
"The name I told you's my own; so's my rank. But I’ve never sailed any ship like the ones down in the harbour - not till those guys picked me up out the water. I can run a gun crew - learned that quick enough in the time we were out looking for pirates but that's as far as it goes." He could no longer look Horatio in the eye. Intimate they may have been the night before, without any form of inhibition or embarrassment, but now he felt completely exposed to that penetrative gaze.
"I don't understand - are you an army captain then?" Horatio felt as if he'd been hit in the stomach - cold sensations crept up the back of his neck at the thought that he had been taken in so easily by this man. A man he'd taken to his room, his bed, his heart. Only, on reflection, he had never really slept with Lee Adama, had he? It was Archie Kennedy he had been making love to the night before.
"Not that either." Adama studied his hands. "Horatio, you seem an intelligent guy - what I'm gonna say won’t make a scrap of sense but you have to believe me."
"Believe you? After you've just made it plain that you lied to me again and again?" Hornblower was beginning to boil up now, surprise and distress giving way to anger.
"I didn't really lie; hell, everything I told you was pretty much the truth, or the truth as you could understand it. Our ship was attacked, we did get sent way off course, I did take out a smaller vessel and we got wrecked in the sea." The desperate need to tell all for once, to be honest and to be believed, radiated from Adama's eyes.
"But you said you had never sailed a ship." Horatio had come in close, barely a handbreadth between their faces.
"I haven't - these were, I guess you'd call them, ships of the air. Spacecraft. Horatio I don't know if it was in the past or the future as far as your lifetime is concerned but that's where I come from. And not even from Earth - as far as my people know that's just some mythical planet from our past. I sail the sky and stars, Horatio."
Hornblower blanched as he recalled the strange dream he had experienced while Adama lay peacefully sleeping at his side. "The stars? That's nonsense. How can a wooden vessel propel itself through the air?"
"We fly metal ships, far more complex than anything you can even imagine. I can't begin to explain how they work - you must accept that it’s true." Lee stroked his hand down Horatio's face, reached the lips, brushed his fingers along them, his eyes following their movements all the way. "You've got to believe me. I'm billions of miles and I've no idea how many frakking thousands of years away from home. I can't see a way back."
Hornblower’s hand drifted up, almost of its own volition, to caress Adama’s cheek. The cleanly shaven skin was soft beneath his touch, warm and tanned with the slightest sheen of sweat accentuating sharp cheekbones. A series of deep creases appeared in his forehead as he pulled back abruptly, slumping down onto the bed and shaking his head in denial. “I can’t accept that. I won’t. Do you think me a fool, one so blinded by your face that I would believe such a tale?”
“No, Horatio, you are no fool. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were. A fool wouldn’t have allowed me to explain myself. A fool wouldn’t have grasped the concept of space travel. A fool wouldn’t still be here.” Lee reached out for Horatio’s hands, grasping them between his own. “If nothing else, give me the chance to earn your trust.”
“I want you to prove it to me.” Looking up at Adama from his seat on the bed, his expression grave and unyielding, Hornblower caught the flicker of apprehension that appeared in the captain’s eyes. “Give me one good reason not to leave you to your ridiculous delusions. If you think you can,” he added mordantly. “Prove yourself.”
Lee paced slowly to the window and back. Short of retrieving his downed Raptor from the icy northern seas, a virtual impossibility until the invention of deep submergence vessels - and who knew when that would be - he had no way of proving his authenticity. A simple explanation would not suffice, nor would his word. “I can’t. You don’t understand how…” He trailed off, an idea forming in his head. “Give me ten minutes; you’ll have your proof.” Adama dashed out of the room.
Horatio shook his head in confusion and looked out the window, wondering what new madness he was about to witness. Lee was sprinting down the street, dodging people and carts with all the ease of one used to living in close quarters. He was a good actor, if nothing else.
Hornblower cursed himself for his gullibility. How could he have been so very blind - like an aging spinster of good dowry but poor looks who falls for some suitor's outlandish tales. Archie would never have lied to him. But he lied for you. Horatio's conscience stabbed him as sharply as any stiletto. He told the biggest falsehood of his life and you stood in court and let it happen. He rested his head against the grubby window pane, letting the cool glass help his racing mind to clear. And last night you knowingly called this man, whom you now doubt, by a false name, even when you had ceased to be two separate bodies; how dare you judge him for playing with the truth?
Unable to bear the voice of principle, Horatio instead tried to consider objectively what he had been told. He knew the French had made great strides with balloons carrying men into the skies on nothing more than hot air and that here in England mines were pumped clear of water with huge engines powered by steam. Could the two ideas be combined and smaller engines - with a greater efficiency than those he knew of - be harnessed to craft that could then be propelled into the skies? It was not a totally outlandish concept. He shook his head and watched the street again, the everyday realities of life passing to and fro before his unseeing eyes; his mind was full of the strange dream that kept returning unbidden to his mind.
It took less then ten minutes for Adama to return, triumphantly thrusting a small silver object into Horatio’s hand and grinning smugly. “It’s called a lighter.”
“What does it do?” Horatio looked at it in confusion. Turning it over, he saw the name Adama engraved into the side, and wondered at its significance.
“Pass me that candle over there.” Lee flicked open the small box, and produced a small flame. “See? Instant fire. That good enough for you?” His father had pressed the lighter into his hand moments before he had left Galactica for the last time. He wouldn’t leave it behind again, no matter what the circumstances.
"Where did you get this?" Hornblower felt the little metallic object all over, as if by caressing it he could persuade it to yield its secrets and those of its owner.
"Just now? Out of hock." Adama bore a small bag, his meagre possessions by the look of them. When he had hared off, weaving elegant patterns with his lithe frame among the good folk of Portsmouth, it had been to his previous lodgings; to pay the landlady - not just for the night's stay he had missed but for the fine breakfast she had provided that morning. Lee could never have admitted to Horatio that he had also lied about his lack of a bed for the night before - better for the man to think that he too had been reduced to pawning his things, redeeming them now in anticipation of work.
"No, I mean who gave you this?"
Adama's handsome face paled. "My father. Before I set off from Galactica in my Raptor. It was to be my good luck charm; perhaps that's why I survived when the rest didn't. I have no idea whether my old man had the same fortune as me."
"I'm sorry." Horatio could see the pain on Adama's face - irrespective of the rest of his story this was patently the truth. "This Galactica - your father's ship - it was out there among the stars?" He vaguely indicated with his arm in the direction of the bright blue Hampshire sky.
"Yeah. It got flung through space like a cannonball over the water and whatever caused it sent me recoiling the other way I guess." Lee looked away, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, well aware that his regret was plainly writ on his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get back.”
Horatio reached a hand out and then aborted the movement, hesitant to offer comfort lest it be rejected. It would be no more than he deserved for his recent distrust. Lost for words, he turned his attention back to the small device in his hand, the cool metal of its casing the very antithesis of the searing flame within. He studied the mechanism carefully, wondering whether it was through friction or another method by which flame was produced.
“Don’t Horatio. You’ll burn yourself.” Adama saw the curiosity in Hornblower’s eyes and moved to retrieve the lighter before any damage was done.
Horatio sniffed, as if offended by the implication that he could not use a small incendiary device, and repositioned his thumb over the lever. He paused, capturing Adama’s gaze and almost daring him to intervene, before flicking the lighter into flame. A stifled gasp of pain escaped his lips as he dropped the lighter to the floor and clutched at his wounded hand.
Lee stepped forward, seizing Hornblower’s injured hand in his own. He brought the pained fingers up to his lips, placing a light kiss on the reddened area. It was childish to think that a mere kiss could remove the pain of the wound but he had acted on instinct and if nothing else his actions may have been a balm for the pain embedded in Horatio’s soul. He had made his feelings known, but whether reciprocation or rejection lay in Hornblower’s next words he couldn’t tell.
Horatio slowly moved his fingers away from Adama's lips, although he did not lose his grip on the man's hand. "I'm sorry. I want to believe you - perhaps I want to believe too much. Tell me about your life on this strange ship; Archie always used to say it was the detail that was convincing in a story - anyone could make up a tale about flying among the clouds, but they would struggle to maintain the particulars of an alien world. Tell me the ordinary things."
Lee smiled, a wave of relief coming over him that neither his touch nor words had been rejected. Horatio still held his hand; they sat on the bed like two old friends or new lovers, at some sort of ease at last. Adama spoke of the shared quarters on Galactica, the taste of Ambrosia, the games of Triad they played, the arguments they had.
In the end it was one seemingly simple detail that had finally convinced Hornblower - the fact that women served shoulder to shoulder with men, wore the same uniforms, flew the same machines. A Napoleonic spy might have come bearing tales of strange flying ships, demonstrating trumped up flintlocks, but Horatio thought it highly unlikely that anyone weaving such tales would have been so outlandish as to turn the normal practice of society upside down. As far as he was concerned this had to be the truth.
"Captain Adama, I wish you to accept my apology. I hope that you will understand why I was so circumspect," Lee nodded in acknowledgment, "and that you will take up my offer of a bottle of something in recompense."
Adama tried hard not to grin. He had become used to what seemed to him the ridiculously stiff necked nature of some of the people he had met in these Isles, but Horatio had to win the prize for pomposity. "I'd like that. And you can begin to talk me through some of the things I need to know for tomorrow." He leaned over and gently kissed Hornblower's cheek. "Although there's something you don't need to say. The guy who rescued me read the rules to his crew every day, told me they were based on your Articles of War. I know that what happened here last night can't happen on Captain Warne's ship."
Horatio cleared his throat loudly, if only to buy him time before responding. Silence would signify his acceptance of these absurd rules, yet to speak out against them would denote an inclination towards insubordination. Already the dark cloud of mutiny hung over his head; despite having been cleared at the Court Martial he was certain that his name carried with it a black mark. He had lived under the threat of the Articles of War for many years, and knew full well the precarious position they were risking. “That is well; the penalties for such things are harsh indeed. It is folly for an officer to disobey the Articles; a captain invariably sees it as mutinous behaviour.”
A sudden, uncharacteristic flash of resentment flared in Lee’s eyes at the mention of mutiny and told Horatio far more than he needed to know. This was no ordinary officer; whether he had been a party in sedition himself or had been subjected to it Hornblower couldn’t deduce, but distress was evident along every sharp plane of Adama’s face. Horatio smiled inwardly. It would be strangely fitting if he were to put to sea with another man scarred by harsh memories of mutiny.
Lee stared up at Horatio, his gaze fixed on a point just past the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I guess that’s it then.” The question he desperately wanted answered remained unvoiced, though his tone inferred a sense of uncertainty, as he sought to confirm the status of their relationship. Even just a short while ago he would have gladly risked all in his careless pursuit of solace but he could not ask the same of Horatio. Not when they both had something to live for.
Oblivious to the unvoiced question but thinking along similar lines himself, Horatio eyed Adama curiously. “There are ways around such rules, of course; moments which can be seized when one is alone. The risk is great, the reward even more so. We wouldn’t be the first to have such a relationship, if the opportunity were to present itself.”
Lee raised an eyebrow. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we wait,” Hornblower laughed softly, his rare moment of levity shattering the tense atmosphere. “Abstinence isn’t deadly, I assure you.”
Adama laughed - not the bitter, brittle laughter that he had employed so far but a warm, heartfelt mirth. He had fallen to earth - the wrong planet, the wrong time - but he had fallen on his feet when he'd gone to that little tavern. Horatio wasn't just a handsome face and a willing body to warm his bed; there was a dignity and rectitude to the man that was both attractive and daunting. If they were to be companions on a long voyage, then they might well find themselves taking advantage of any opportunity they had of being alone together. And not just for a drink from the same bottle.
"Come on," Lee rose from the bed, pulling Hornblower with him. "Let's pool our resources and make sure we get a decent meal. You can start teaching me what I need to do tomorrow. Then we get a proper night's sleep." He eyed the bed ruefully. "Better than we did last night."
Horatio nodded. He would accept that Adama knew how to run a gun crew and he hoped that a little cannon practice would be held as soon as they were clear of the Isle of Wight so that the man could demonstrate his competence to Warne. But in the interim there was the small matter of actually getting the ship - some sort of large sloop or small frigate, he suspected - under way, which would involve anchor chains, sheets, ropes and a whole lifetime's worth of knowledge. He would have to keep it simple and to the point, telling Adama not just what to do, but what to look out for in the way of potential problems. They would go down to the Round Tower before they ate and if their luck was in there'd be a ship or two to look at and use for demonstration.
As it turned out, Horatio's luck was in - and in spades, too. They watched a vessel weigh anchor and another produce her full set of sails, Hornblower all the time pointing out names and descriptions to his companion. He was gratified to find that Adama had picked up an awful lot of words on the vessel that had rescued him - including the names of the primary sails and ropes - and understood the general principles involved in a ship making its way by wind power alone. Horatio was so pleased that they he cut things short and they found a reasonably quiet tavern to sup at - and tackle the next thorny subject.
This particular area they discussed continually through their meal and all the way back to Hornblower's lodgings. Navigation had proved a far more difficult concept to explain than sails and ropes; trigonometry being redundant in the age of space travel, a slate and chalk having been superseded by computers. Adama had attempted to beg off, stating that he was a Viper pilot not a Tactical Officer, but Horatio had merely raised an eyebrow at the foreign terms and continued with the lesson. If they were to be successful in this charade, Lee would have to know how to plot a course at some point.
Their study halted at Horatio’s stifled yawn; his nights of unrest finally catching up with him. The two men stared at the unmade bed, then at each other.
“Left or right side?” Lee looked up at Hornblower, a charming smile on his handsome face.
Horatio shrugged. "I suppose I'll take the right side if it makes no difference. Archie always insisted on sleeping on the left, I guess some habits are hard to break after so long."
"Makes no difference to me. Besides you wanted to pretend I was him. Maybe one more night with him, even just sleeping, is what you need." The captain dropped down onto the bed and began to strip down to his small clothes
“No. I…I realise now that you and he aren’t the same.” They had truly broken the mould when they made Archie Kennedy. “As much as I wanted to pretend that you were Archie returned to me, I accept that you aren’t him. I can’t in good conscience ask you to pretend to be somebody else for the rest of your life.” A rueful grin appeared on Horatio’s face. “He would have disowned me if he’d known of my actions last night. Not everything,” he quickly explained to the suddenly guilty foreigner, “just that I was pretending that you were him. I like to think that he would be happy for us.”
The pair lay down on the hard mattress, side by side in the small bed. Lee was quick to embrace sleep, his steady breaths a testament to his relaxed state. Horatio lay awake for a time, his thoughts racing, his hands clenched together. Finally, he came to an internal decision. Rolling onto his side, he gently curled one arm around Lee's waist and drifted off to sleep.
***
Breakfast the next day paled in comparison with the delights of the day before, just as the previous night had been overshadowed by its predecessor. Some soft tack and meat from their supper had been stuffed into Lee's bag and was hastily consumed with nothing but water to wash it down - the only consoling thought being that the food on Hambledon should prove filling, if not to an epicure’s standard. Bags and sea chests packed and ready to carry, the last of their money left for Mrs Mason with a polite note of thanks, the two men set off for the rendezvous point with that curious mixture of excitement and fear that accompanies all new ventures.
As they approached the quayside, they saw a gig - horse shying at a passing dog - sweep into a knot of sailors and speed on; a small blond figure fell to the ground and was immediately being fussed over with much wailing but little effect.
They saw one smart Alec of a jack stoop over the body and remark, "He's not breathing sir; impact of that carriage must have killed him as stone dead as if it were Wind of Ball." The man immediately regretted his haste when Captain Warne - who was now kneeling at the victim's side - ordered him to shut up, employing a few choice oaths in the process.
Adama immediately pushed the hapless sailor out of the way, knelt down by the young lad, began to feel his neck for a pulse. "His heart's still beating, Captain." A murmur of relief swept through the burgeoning throng at these words. Lee gently tilted the boy's head back, in case it was only the muscles of his tongue that were keeping the air from his lungs. He carefully checked the mouth for any other impediments, while his fingers maintained their monitoring of a pulse that was racing and thready. Taking a huge inhalation, Adama breathed into the lad's mouth, all the while keeping an eye on his chest to make sure that the air was getting to where it was intended; he'd been taught the basics of emergency aid from the word go at flight school - all the technology in the world wasn't going to help a colleague if you didn't get things right in the first few minutes.
A few more breaths and the lad took a shuddering gulp of air for himself, each subsequent inhalation becoming more steady and regular. It wasn't long before, with the extreme resilience of the young, the lad opened his eyes and politely enquired as to what was going on. The scene in question was one of the Hambledon's commander - wearing a huge grin of relief on his face - pumping the hand of a strange looking officer and this same man having his back and shoulders soundly slapped by any of the tars who could get themselves within reach.
"Captain's nephew," a grizzled salt whispered into Hornblower's ear. "No father to speak of really, so 'e's brought 'im up like 'is own. Break 'is 'eart to lose 'im."
Adama could not have had a more auspicious start to his sea faring career; the effects of his timely intervention were still being felt as Warne and his two new officers were rowed out to the ship. Sailors were always in search of something that would bring them luck - she was a fickle mistress and anything that would make her grace their vessel for a while was to be cosseted. This hard looking young man with the odd voice and manner was obviously one who would bring them excellent fortune in droves; they'd seen the evidence on the quay and the happy smiles they bestowed upon him warmed Adama's heart. Horatio had to be content to bask in the reflected glory.
If Lee was expected to bring good luck to the ship, he experienced it himself as they prepared to make sail. Any lack of experience he had was never given the opportunity to make itself known; Warne had been so impressed with Adama's medical abilities that he'd insisted that the man immediately instruct the surgeon in his arcane skills, while performing the relatively easy task of overseeing the weighing of the anchor. Any supervision had proved superfluous; this crew - among whom the tale of the new officer's skills had spread like wildfire - were keen to impress and appear at their best. This bringer of fortune might seek to depart, else.
Horatio watched the proceedings behind shrewd eyes. For all the reservations Warne may have had about the two officers; he was certain that, at the very least, Lee wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining his berth beyond their trial. Devotion to a particular officer was not uncommon among sailors; he had seen it dozens of times before, had been on the receiving end what’s more, but the instant loyalty the crew were showing towards Adama was disconcerting. The captain would be duty bound to live up to the monstrous expectations placed on him lest he lose the crew's faith. Better he be given the chance to earn their trust; the unfounded prejudices of sailors could break a weak officer and Hornblower prayed that Adama had strength enough to transcend superstition. Everything he had seen of the man suggested so but command was difficult at the best of times, let alone in a world far removed from what he was used to.
Preoccupied by their duties - at opposite ends of the ship - neither man had much of an opportunity to speak to the other until they found themselves in the small cabin that functioned as the officer’s wardroom. The ceiling was too low for Horatio to stand upright, a paltry candle lit the dim room, and the flimsily partitioned sleeping cabins bore little more than canvas hammocks, but they alone were to share the room and nothing could detract from their contentment.
“You seem to be quite popular with the crew.” Horatio produced a rare grin. “I’ve never seen such a good showing.”
Lee rolled his eyes, a blush colouring his cheeks. “They’ll have forgotten everything by the morning.”
“You’d be surprised.” Horatio had seen the small, self conscious smile that had appeared on Adama’s face at the admiration he had received and had guessed correctly that the captain was secretly pleased with his propitious start. “Anyway, it’ll make your duties easier if they’re eager to impress.”
“And you, Horatio, were you impressed?” Lee curved his lips into a teasing smile.
“Indubitably,” Horatio smiled back. It was the truth; Adama had held his own as they set sail and had kept sensibly quiet during their tour of the ship - an exploration conducted by Freddie, the lad who had been so spectacularly rescued on the quay. He'd let Hornblower do the talking, chipping in with the odd remark or what he hoped was a reasonable question. The only statement of any clear intent had been to the gunner, when Lee had expressed his mistrust of slow match and flint - insisting that a lit cigar in hand or mouth, ready to be stabbed down at any juncture, was the most reliable way to ensure that your cannon fired. The gunner did not necessarily agree with him, but the opinion was respected.
It had proved, as Horatio predicted, to be the smallest vessel that could be graced with the name of frigate; sold out of the service and renamed, she'd been sailing with a Letter of Marque for the best part of ten years and had made a pretty penny in the process. Hornblower wondered if Captain Warne had some sort of connections within the Admiralty, he having done so well with his prizes and his men having been granted exemption from impressment.
The tour had ended at the gunroom, where the two men were allowed to stow their meagre belongings properly and prepare for dinner. The crew were in the middle of their meal, eating at noon like any good Christian soul should and the lieutenants had been invited to eat with Warne and young Freddie at one, the captain keeping to wardroom hours. Horatio looked forward very much to a meal on board again - the sea longing had been eating into his spirit these last few months and now that he could feel his legs giving and adapting with the natural movement of the ship, he was much happier. Or would have been had not the old problem started to give notice that it was rearing its ugly head.
Mal-de-mer. Sea sickness. Call it what you would, unless a man suffered he could not understand the utter misery it brought; the dryness of the mouth, the buzzing of the ears, the desperate longing for life to end, made worse by Hambledon’s incessant swaying. The stiff breeze they sailed under was not threatening in any way, simply strong enough to rock the small frigate from side to side with relentless regularity. It had always been the interminable rocking that ailed Hornblower, more so than the heavy crash of storm driven waves upon the hull.
The thought of dinner sent him staggering towards a basin and emptying what little there was in his stomach with forceful heaves. He rested his forehead against the room’s sturdy wooden frame and sighed. His misery was compounded by the flood of memories that putting to sea had unleashed. Barring his brief turn as commander of Retribution - of which he remembered nothing but heartache - he had not sailed without Archie by his side since they had been reunited in a small, stone walled room in Spain. He liked Lee, could certainly trust him, but there wasn’t the instantaneous synergy between them as there had been with Archie.
“You alright Horatio?” Lee looked at the lieutenant, the concern in his eyes palpable. He was surprised that Hornblower could have spent almost ten years fighting at sea yet still suffered from sea sickness. At least his Viper training had given him a strong stomach; he felt perfectly fine, and had been from the moment he’d set foot on the ship.
“’m fine.” Doubled over in the corner and green to the gills, Horatio choked out his reply before grasping at the basin again. “Don’t worry.”
He was far from fine, Adama could tell by simply looking at him, and he was worried, but he would allow Horatio to maintain his pride. He owed the younger man that much, and more. He could find no words, nor actions, with which he could properly express his gratitude for having been accepted by Hornblower. One day he would repay that debt.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Horatio/Apollo
Summary: The dynamic duo set sail. Written in collaboration with mylodon
Having to report for duty at seven o’clock in the morning held little appeal if Adama’s look of reservation was anything to go by, although Horatio was far too distracted by the thought of putting to sea and the opportunity to repay his outstanding debts, to pay much attention to the battle that was being played out on the foreigner’s face. They walked slowly through the stone cobbled streets of Portsmouth to their lodgings, where Adama dispatched the lurking Mrs Mason with ease, and began to pack Horatio’s meagre belongings into his sea chest. Having little more than the clothes on his back and a few coins in his pocket, Adama watched with jealousy as a lifetime’s worth of memories were packed into the small wooden chest. He shook his head. His former life was over; it would do him no good to dwell on the past. If he was to live this life, with Horatio at his side what’s more, he would have to be honest about where he came from.
Adama exhaled loudly. Come on Lee. Just tell him the truth. Tell him now. His head span as his thoughts went to and fro like waves upon the shore, always returning to the one place he did not wish to go. Tell him. He opened his mouth to speak, stuttered a few monosyllabic sounds, and turned away in embarrassment. He had spent the past day earning Horatio’s trust by pretending to be something he wasn’t - a strategy that would never have worked in the long run but should have lasted longer than twenty four hours - and now had to admit to his deception before it became patently obvious the moment he stepped aboard Hambledon that he was no sailor.
“Horatio, I…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. When you asked me how I came to be in Portsmouth I knew you wouldn’t believe the full story, so I simplified it. Hell, I still don’t know how to explain everything.”
Horatio ran a hand over his face, his fingers trailing a path down from his high forehead to his mouth, where he chewed for a moment on a jagged fingernail. “You could start with your name.”
"The name I told you's my own; so's my rank. But I’ve never sailed any ship like the ones down in the harbour - not till those guys picked me up out the water. I can run a gun crew - learned that quick enough in the time we were out looking for pirates but that's as far as it goes." He could no longer look Horatio in the eye. Intimate they may have been the night before, without any form of inhibition or embarrassment, but now he felt completely exposed to that penetrative gaze.
"I don't understand - are you an army captain then?" Horatio felt as if he'd been hit in the stomach - cold sensations crept up the back of his neck at the thought that he had been taken in so easily by this man. A man he'd taken to his room, his bed, his heart. Only, on reflection, he had never really slept with Lee Adama, had he? It was Archie Kennedy he had been making love to the night before.
"Not that either." Adama studied his hands. "Horatio, you seem an intelligent guy - what I'm gonna say won’t make a scrap of sense but you have to believe me."
"Believe you? After you've just made it plain that you lied to me again and again?" Hornblower was beginning to boil up now, surprise and distress giving way to anger.
"I didn't really lie; hell, everything I told you was pretty much the truth, or the truth as you could understand it. Our ship was attacked, we did get sent way off course, I did take out a smaller vessel and we got wrecked in the sea." The desperate need to tell all for once, to be honest and to be believed, radiated from Adama's eyes.
"But you said you had never sailed a ship." Horatio had come in close, barely a handbreadth between their faces.
"I haven't - these were, I guess you'd call them, ships of the air. Spacecraft. Horatio I don't know if it was in the past or the future as far as your lifetime is concerned but that's where I come from. And not even from Earth - as far as my people know that's just some mythical planet from our past. I sail the sky and stars, Horatio."
Hornblower blanched as he recalled the strange dream he had experienced while Adama lay peacefully sleeping at his side. "The stars? That's nonsense. How can a wooden vessel propel itself through the air?"
"We fly metal ships, far more complex than anything you can even imagine. I can't begin to explain how they work - you must accept that it’s true." Lee stroked his hand down Horatio's face, reached the lips, brushed his fingers along them, his eyes following their movements all the way. "You've got to believe me. I'm billions of miles and I've no idea how many frakking thousands of years away from home. I can't see a way back."
Hornblower’s hand drifted up, almost of its own volition, to caress Adama’s cheek. The cleanly shaven skin was soft beneath his touch, warm and tanned with the slightest sheen of sweat accentuating sharp cheekbones. A series of deep creases appeared in his forehead as he pulled back abruptly, slumping down onto the bed and shaking his head in denial. “I can’t accept that. I won’t. Do you think me a fool, one so blinded by your face that I would believe such a tale?”
“No, Horatio, you are no fool. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were. A fool wouldn’t have allowed me to explain myself. A fool wouldn’t have grasped the concept of space travel. A fool wouldn’t still be here.” Lee reached out for Horatio’s hands, grasping them between his own. “If nothing else, give me the chance to earn your trust.”
“I want you to prove it to me.” Looking up at Adama from his seat on the bed, his expression grave and unyielding, Hornblower caught the flicker of apprehension that appeared in the captain’s eyes. “Give me one good reason not to leave you to your ridiculous delusions. If you think you can,” he added mordantly. “Prove yourself.”
Lee paced slowly to the window and back. Short of retrieving his downed Raptor from the icy northern seas, a virtual impossibility until the invention of deep submergence vessels - and who knew when that would be - he had no way of proving his authenticity. A simple explanation would not suffice, nor would his word. “I can’t. You don’t understand how…” He trailed off, an idea forming in his head. “Give me ten minutes; you’ll have your proof.” Adama dashed out of the room.
Horatio shook his head in confusion and looked out the window, wondering what new madness he was about to witness. Lee was sprinting down the street, dodging people and carts with all the ease of one used to living in close quarters. He was a good actor, if nothing else.
Hornblower cursed himself for his gullibility. How could he have been so very blind - like an aging spinster of good dowry but poor looks who falls for some suitor's outlandish tales. Archie would never have lied to him. But he lied for you. Horatio's conscience stabbed him as sharply as any stiletto. He told the biggest falsehood of his life and you stood in court and let it happen. He rested his head against the grubby window pane, letting the cool glass help his racing mind to clear. And last night you knowingly called this man, whom you now doubt, by a false name, even when you had ceased to be two separate bodies; how dare you judge him for playing with the truth?
Unable to bear the voice of principle, Horatio instead tried to consider objectively what he had been told. He knew the French had made great strides with balloons carrying men into the skies on nothing more than hot air and that here in England mines were pumped clear of water with huge engines powered by steam. Could the two ideas be combined and smaller engines - with a greater efficiency than those he knew of - be harnessed to craft that could then be propelled into the skies? It was not a totally outlandish concept. He shook his head and watched the street again, the everyday realities of life passing to and fro before his unseeing eyes; his mind was full of the strange dream that kept returning unbidden to his mind.
It took less then ten minutes for Adama to return, triumphantly thrusting a small silver object into Horatio’s hand and grinning smugly. “It’s called a lighter.”
“What does it do?” Horatio looked at it in confusion. Turning it over, he saw the name Adama engraved into the side, and wondered at its significance.
“Pass me that candle over there.” Lee flicked open the small box, and produced a small flame. “See? Instant fire. That good enough for you?” His father had pressed the lighter into his hand moments before he had left Galactica for the last time. He wouldn’t leave it behind again, no matter what the circumstances.
"Where did you get this?" Hornblower felt the little metallic object all over, as if by caressing it he could persuade it to yield its secrets and those of its owner.
"Just now? Out of hock." Adama bore a small bag, his meagre possessions by the look of them. When he had hared off, weaving elegant patterns with his lithe frame among the good folk of Portsmouth, it had been to his previous lodgings; to pay the landlady - not just for the night's stay he had missed but for the fine breakfast she had provided that morning. Lee could never have admitted to Horatio that he had also lied about his lack of a bed for the night before - better for the man to think that he too had been reduced to pawning his things, redeeming them now in anticipation of work.
"No, I mean who gave you this?"
Adama's handsome face paled. "My father. Before I set off from Galactica in my Raptor. It was to be my good luck charm; perhaps that's why I survived when the rest didn't. I have no idea whether my old man had the same fortune as me."
"I'm sorry." Horatio could see the pain on Adama's face - irrespective of the rest of his story this was patently the truth. "This Galactica - your father's ship - it was out there among the stars?" He vaguely indicated with his arm in the direction of the bright blue Hampshire sky.
"Yeah. It got flung through space like a cannonball over the water and whatever caused it sent me recoiling the other way I guess." Lee looked away, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, well aware that his regret was plainly writ on his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get back.”
Horatio reached a hand out and then aborted the movement, hesitant to offer comfort lest it be rejected. It would be no more than he deserved for his recent distrust. Lost for words, he turned his attention back to the small device in his hand, the cool metal of its casing the very antithesis of the searing flame within. He studied the mechanism carefully, wondering whether it was through friction or another method by which flame was produced.
“Don’t Horatio. You’ll burn yourself.” Adama saw the curiosity in Hornblower’s eyes and moved to retrieve the lighter before any damage was done.
Horatio sniffed, as if offended by the implication that he could not use a small incendiary device, and repositioned his thumb over the lever. He paused, capturing Adama’s gaze and almost daring him to intervene, before flicking the lighter into flame. A stifled gasp of pain escaped his lips as he dropped the lighter to the floor and clutched at his wounded hand.
Lee stepped forward, seizing Hornblower’s injured hand in his own. He brought the pained fingers up to his lips, placing a light kiss on the reddened area. It was childish to think that a mere kiss could remove the pain of the wound but he had acted on instinct and if nothing else his actions may have been a balm for the pain embedded in Horatio’s soul. He had made his feelings known, but whether reciprocation or rejection lay in Hornblower’s next words he couldn’t tell.
Horatio slowly moved his fingers away from Adama's lips, although he did not lose his grip on the man's hand. "I'm sorry. I want to believe you - perhaps I want to believe too much. Tell me about your life on this strange ship; Archie always used to say it was the detail that was convincing in a story - anyone could make up a tale about flying among the clouds, but they would struggle to maintain the particulars of an alien world. Tell me the ordinary things."
Lee smiled, a wave of relief coming over him that neither his touch nor words had been rejected. Horatio still held his hand; they sat on the bed like two old friends or new lovers, at some sort of ease at last. Adama spoke of the shared quarters on Galactica, the taste of Ambrosia, the games of Triad they played, the arguments they had.
In the end it was one seemingly simple detail that had finally convinced Hornblower - the fact that women served shoulder to shoulder with men, wore the same uniforms, flew the same machines. A Napoleonic spy might have come bearing tales of strange flying ships, demonstrating trumped up flintlocks, but Horatio thought it highly unlikely that anyone weaving such tales would have been so outlandish as to turn the normal practice of society upside down. As far as he was concerned this had to be the truth.
"Captain Adama, I wish you to accept my apology. I hope that you will understand why I was so circumspect," Lee nodded in acknowledgment, "and that you will take up my offer of a bottle of something in recompense."
Adama tried hard not to grin. He had become used to what seemed to him the ridiculously stiff necked nature of some of the people he had met in these Isles, but Horatio had to win the prize for pomposity. "I'd like that. And you can begin to talk me through some of the things I need to know for tomorrow." He leaned over and gently kissed Hornblower's cheek. "Although there's something you don't need to say. The guy who rescued me read the rules to his crew every day, told me they were based on your Articles of War. I know that what happened here last night can't happen on Captain Warne's ship."
Horatio cleared his throat loudly, if only to buy him time before responding. Silence would signify his acceptance of these absurd rules, yet to speak out against them would denote an inclination towards insubordination. Already the dark cloud of mutiny hung over his head; despite having been cleared at the Court Martial he was certain that his name carried with it a black mark. He had lived under the threat of the Articles of War for many years, and knew full well the precarious position they were risking. “That is well; the penalties for such things are harsh indeed. It is folly for an officer to disobey the Articles; a captain invariably sees it as mutinous behaviour.”
A sudden, uncharacteristic flash of resentment flared in Lee’s eyes at the mention of mutiny and told Horatio far more than he needed to know. This was no ordinary officer; whether he had been a party in sedition himself or had been subjected to it Hornblower couldn’t deduce, but distress was evident along every sharp plane of Adama’s face. Horatio smiled inwardly. It would be strangely fitting if he were to put to sea with another man scarred by harsh memories of mutiny.
Lee stared up at Horatio, his gaze fixed on a point just past the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I guess that’s it then.” The question he desperately wanted answered remained unvoiced, though his tone inferred a sense of uncertainty, as he sought to confirm the status of their relationship. Even just a short while ago he would have gladly risked all in his careless pursuit of solace but he could not ask the same of Horatio. Not when they both had something to live for.
Oblivious to the unvoiced question but thinking along similar lines himself, Horatio eyed Adama curiously. “There are ways around such rules, of course; moments which can be seized when one is alone. The risk is great, the reward even more so. We wouldn’t be the first to have such a relationship, if the opportunity were to present itself.”
Lee raised an eyebrow. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we wait,” Hornblower laughed softly, his rare moment of levity shattering the tense atmosphere. “Abstinence isn’t deadly, I assure you.”
Adama laughed - not the bitter, brittle laughter that he had employed so far but a warm, heartfelt mirth. He had fallen to earth - the wrong planet, the wrong time - but he had fallen on his feet when he'd gone to that little tavern. Horatio wasn't just a handsome face and a willing body to warm his bed; there was a dignity and rectitude to the man that was both attractive and daunting. If they were to be companions on a long voyage, then they might well find themselves taking advantage of any opportunity they had of being alone together. And not just for a drink from the same bottle.
"Come on," Lee rose from the bed, pulling Hornblower with him. "Let's pool our resources and make sure we get a decent meal. You can start teaching me what I need to do tomorrow. Then we get a proper night's sleep." He eyed the bed ruefully. "Better than we did last night."
Horatio nodded. He would accept that Adama knew how to run a gun crew and he hoped that a little cannon practice would be held as soon as they were clear of the Isle of Wight so that the man could demonstrate his competence to Warne. But in the interim there was the small matter of actually getting the ship - some sort of large sloop or small frigate, he suspected - under way, which would involve anchor chains, sheets, ropes and a whole lifetime's worth of knowledge. He would have to keep it simple and to the point, telling Adama not just what to do, but what to look out for in the way of potential problems. They would go down to the Round Tower before they ate and if their luck was in there'd be a ship or two to look at and use for demonstration.
As it turned out, Horatio's luck was in - and in spades, too. They watched a vessel weigh anchor and another produce her full set of sails, Hornblower all the time pointing out names and descriptions to his companion. He was gratified to find that Adama had picked up an awful lot of words on the vessel that had rescued him - including the names of the primary sails and ropes - and understood the general principles involved in a ship making its way by wind power alone. Horatio was so pleased that they he cut things short and they found a reasonably quiet tavern to sup at - and tackle the next thorny subject.
This particular area they discussed continually through their meal and all the way back to Hornblower's lodgings. Navigation had proved a far more difficult concept to explain than sails and ropes; trigonometry being redundant in the age of space travel, a slate and chalk having been superseded by computers. Adama had attempted to beg off, stating that he was a Viper pilot not a Tactical Officer, but Horatio had merely raised an eyebrow at the foreign terms and continued with the lesson. If they were to be successful in this charade, Lee would have to know how to plot a course at some point.
Their study halted at Horatio’s stifled yawn; his nights of unrest finally catching up with him. The two men stared at the unmade bed, then at each other.
“Left or right side?” Lee looked up at Hornblower, a charming smile on his handsome face.
Horatio shrugged. "I suppose I'll take the right side if it makes no difference. Archie always insisted on sleeping on the left, I guess some habits are hard to break after so long."
"Makes no difference to me. Besides you wanted to pretend I was him. Maybe one more night with him, even just sleeping, is what you need." The captain dropped down onto the bed and began to strip down to his small clothes
“No. I…I realise now that you and he aren’t the same.” They had truly broken the mould when they made Archie Kennedy. “As much as I wanted to pretend that you were Archie returned to me, I accept that you aren’t him. I can’t in good conscience ask you to pretend to be somebody else for the rest of your life.” A rueful grin appeared on Horatio’s face. “He would have disowned me if he’d known of my actions last night. Not everything,” he quickly explained to the suddenly guilty foreigner, “just that I was pretending that you were him. I like to think that he would be happy for us.”
The pair lay down on the hard mattress, side by side in the small bed. Lee was quick to embrace sleep, his steady breaths a testament to his relaxed state. Horatio lay awake for a time, his thoughts racing, his hands clenched together. Finally, he came to an internal decision. Rolling onto his side, he gently curled one arm around Lee's waist and drifted off to sleep.
***
Breakfast the next day paled in comparison with the delights of the day before, just as the previous night had been overshadowed by its predecessor. Some soft tack and meat from their supper had been stuffed into Lee's bag and was hastily consumed with nothing but water to wash it down - the only consoling thought being that the food on Hambledon should prove filling, if not to an epicure’s standard. Bags and sea chests packed and ready to carry, the last of their money left for Mrs Mason with a polite note of thanks, the two men set off for the rendezvous point with that curious mixture of excitement and fear that accompanies all new ventures.
As they approached the quayside, they saw a gig - horse shying at a passing dog - sweep into a knot of sailors and speed on; a small blond figure fell to the ground and was immediately being fussed over with much wailing but little effect.
They saw one smart Alec of a jack stoop over the body and remark, "He's not breathing sir; impact of that carriage must have killed him as stone dead as if it were Wind of Ball." The man immediately regretted his haste when Captain Warne - who was now kneeling at the victim's side - ordered him to shut up, employing a few choice oaths in the process.
Adama immediately pushed the hapless sailor out of the way, knelt down by the young lad, began to feel his neck for a pulse. "His heart's still beating, Captain." A murmur of relief swept through the burgeoning throng at these words. Lee gently tilted the boy's head back, in case it was only the muscles of his tongue that were keeping the air from his lungs. He carefully checked the mouth for any other impediments, while his fingers maintained their monitoring of a pulse that was racing and thready. Taking a huge inhalation, Adama breathed into the lad's mouth, all the while keeping an eye on his chest to make sure that the air was getting to where it was intended; he'd been taught the basics of emergency aid from the word go at flight school - all the technology in the world wasn't going to help a colleague if you didn't get things right in the first few minutes.
A few more breaths and the lad took a shuddering gulp of air for himself, each subsequent inhalation becoming more steady and regular. It wasn't long before, with the extreme resilience of the young, the lad opened his eyes and politely enquired as to what was going on. The scene in question was one of the Hambledon's commander - wearing a huge grin of relief on his face - pumping the hand of a strange looking officer and this same man having his back and shoulders soundly slapped by any of the tars who could get themselves within reach.
"Captain's nephew," a grizzled salt whispered into Hornblower's ear. "No father to speak of really, so 'e's brought 'im up like 'is own. Break 'is 'eart to lose 'im."
Adama could not have had a more auspicious start to his sea faring career; the effects of his timely intervention were still being felt as Warne and his two new officers were rowed out to the ship. Sailors were always in search of something that would bring them luck - she was a fickle mistress and anything that would make her grace their vessel for a while was to be cosseted. This hard looking young man with the odd voice and manner was obviously one who would bring them excellent fortune in droves; they'd seen the evidence on the quay and the happy smiles they bestowed upon him warmed Adama's heart. Horatio had to be content to bask in the reflected glory.
If Lee was expected to bring good luck to the ship, he experienced it himself as they prepared to make sail. Any lack of experience he had was never given the opportunity to make itself known; Warne had been so impressed with Adama's medical abilities that he'd insisted that the man immediately instruct the surgeon in his arcane skills, while performing the relatively easy task of overseeing the weighing of the anchor. Any supervision had proved superfluous; this crew - among whom the tale of the new officer's skills had spread like wildfire - were keen to impress and appear at their best. This bringer of fortune might seek to depart, else.
Horatio watched the proceedings behind shrewd eyes. For all the reservations Warne may have had about the two officers; he was certain that, at the very least, Lee wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining his berth beyond their trial. Devotion to a particular officer was not uncommon among sailors; he had seen it dozens of times before, had been on the receiving end what’s more, but the instant loyalty the crew were showing towards Adama was disconcerting. The captain would be duty bound to live up to the monstrous expectations placed on him lest he lose the crew's faith. Better he be given the chance to earn their trust; the unfounded prejudices of sailors could break a weak officer and Hornblower prayed that Adama had strength enough to transcend superstition. Everything he had seen of the man suggested so but command was difficult at the best of times, let alone in a world far removed from what he was used to.
Preoccupied by their duties - at opposite ends of the ship - neither man had much of an opportunity to speak to the other until they found themselves in the small cabin that functioned as the officer’s wardroom. The ceiling was too low for Horatio to stand upright, a paltry candle lit the dim room, and the flimsily partitioned sleeping cabins bore little more than canvas hammocks, but they alone were to share the room and nothing could detract from their contentment.
“You seem to be quite popular with the crew.” Horatio produced a rare grin. “I’ve never seen such a good showing.”
Lee rolled his eyes, a blush colouring his cheeks. “They’ll have forgotten everything by the morning.”
“You’d be surprised.” Horatio had seen the small, self conscious smile that had appeared on Adama’s face at the admiration he had received and had guessed correctly that the captain was secretly pleased with his propitious start. “Anyway, it’ll make your duties easier if they’re eager to impress.”
“And you, Horatio, were you impressed?” Lee curved his lips into a teasing smile.
“Indubitably,” Horatio smiled back. It was the truth; Adama had held his own as they set sail and had kept sensibly quiet during their tour of the ship - an exploration conducted by Freddie, the lad who had been so spectacularly rescued on the quay. He'd let Hornblower do the talking, chipping in with the odd remark or what he hoped was a reasonable question. The only statement of any clear intent had been to the gunner, when Lee had expressed his mistrust of slow match and flint - insisting that a lit cigar in hand or mouth, ready to be stabbed down at any juncture, was the most reliable way to ensure that your cannon fired. The gunner did not necessarily agree with him, but the opinion was respected.
It had proved, as Horatio predicted, to be the smallest vessel that could be graced with the name of frigate; sold out of the service and renamed, she'd been sailing with a Letter of Marque for the best part of ten years and had made a pretty penny in the process. Hornblower wondered if Captain Warne had some sort of connections within the Admiralty, he having done so well with his prizes and his men having been granted exemption from impressment.
The tour had ended at the gunroom, where the two men were allowed to stow their meagre belongings properly and prepare for dinner. The crew were in the middle of their meal, eating at noon like any good Christian soul should and the lieutenants had been invited to eat with Warne and young Freddie at one, the captain keeping to wardroom hours. Horatio looked forward very much to a meal on board again - the sea longing had been eating into his spirit these last few months and now that he could feel his legs giving and adapting with the natural movement of the ship, he was much happier. Or would have been had not the old problem started to give notice that it was rearing its ugly head.
Mal-de-mer. Sea sickness. Call it what you would, unless a man suffered he could not understand the utter misery it brought; the dryness of the mouth, the buzzing of the ears, the desperate longing for life to end, made worse by Hambledon’s incessant swaying. The stiff breeze they sailed under was not threatening in any way, simply strong enough to rock the small frigate from side to side with relentless regularity. It had always been the interminable rocking that ailed Hornblower, more so than the heavy crash of storm driven waves upon the hull.
The thought of dinner sent him staggering towards a basin and emptying what little there was in his stomach with forceful heaves. He rested his forehead against the room’s sturdy wooden frame and sighed. His misery was compounded by the flood of memories that putting to sea had unleashed. Barring his brief turn as commander of Retribution - of which he remembered nothing but heartache - he had not sailed without Archie by his side since they had been reunited in a small, stone walled room in Spain. He liked Lee, could certainly trust him, but there wasn’t the instantaneous synergy between them as there had been with Archie.
“You alright Horatio?” Lee looked at the lieutenant, the concern in his eyes palpable. He was surprised that Hornblower could have spent almost ten years fighting at sea yet still suffered from sea sickness. At least his Viper training had given him a strong stomach; he felt perfectly fine, and had been from the moment he’d set foot on the ship.
“’m fine.” Doubled over in the corner and green to the gills, Horatio choked out his reply before grasping at the basin again. “Don’t worry.”
He was far from fine, Adama could tell by simply looking at him, and he was worried, but he would allow Horatio to maintain his pride. He owed the younger man that much, and more. He could find no words, nor actions, with which he could properly express his gratitude for having been accepted by Hornblower. One day he would repay that debt.