At the Lamb Inn
Title: At the Lamb Inn
Rating: PG
Pairing: Horatio/Archie
Word Count: 2,651 (!!)
Summary: Archie and Horatio have a heartfelt conversation as Archie tries to learn to open up to his once closest friend. Set just after The Duchess and the Devil - I wondered what Archie must have felt about being friends with Horatio again, and how many conflicting feelings he must have had.
Disclaimer: As per usual I have no rights to the Hornblower estate, etc. It's been a very long time! And I have been dreadfully neglectful of LJ and this wonderful community, so many apologies. I started writing this a very long time ago, and at the time it had been partially inspired by anteros_lmc's fic There's a sailor who sings... because I am very much in love with the Jacques Brel song she'd based her fic off of and wanted to involve world-weary sea-chanting sailors in my fic too! This was the result.
At the Lamb Inn there’s an ancient mariner who sings sad songs about the sea. He sits in his own corner of the smoky pub and keeps mainly to himself, but every now and then he’ll grace the tavern with a song. He’s always there - his pipe permanently resting on the jut of his lip; staring out at the crowd with watery blue eyes that are pressed into a face lined with a wrinkle for every year he’s been alive.
He’s the resident madman (for every tavern has one) but he is harmless enough, and he is there so often he has become part of the scenery at the Lamb Inn. It isn’t until one looks closer that one realizes there’s a clear white film over the blue of his eyes: he is blind. Archie knows this though, because he recalls that once upon a time he had bought him a drink - back in the days when he’d served as a midshipman on board Justinian.
But that was the problem really, with the Lamb Inn. There were too many memories.
Archie didn’t like thinking about it much (in fact, he barely acknowledges the old man nowadays - who certainly wouldn’t remember him anyway). He was a different person then. Looking back sometimes feels like looking upon another lifetime, but the memories inevitably resurface and become real when he’s at the Lamb. There were too many dark nooks and crannies; dark nooks and crannies made for the express purpose of providing certain patrons with a reasonable amount of privacy. Undoubtedly they held titillating memories for most. They held quite the opposite for the former midshipman off Justinian, but no one speaks of it now and only a few old hands on the Indy remember Jack Simpson and his molly anyway. Besides, they pretended not to know, pretended not to remember and that suited Archie just fine. No one could know. To have another know of his shame would be to make it all real again, to bring all the memories back. And so Archie took his secret and hid it away in a little box, in a little corner of his mind where it could be forgotten. Every now and again it would niggle away at him and remind him it was there, but Archie was becoming better at ignoring it all the time. Concealed in that little box, his secret would be kept hidden from the world and everyone in it. Even from Horatio. Especially from Horatio.
Archie had no intention of ever letting him know. Sure, Horatio was no longer the wide-eyed innocent he had been back when they were boys on Justinian; but at the core of his very being there was an unshakeable and wholly pure belief in duty and honour, a fundamental goodness that Archie wouldn’t see ruined for the world. In his more belligerent moods Archie found that Horatio’s blind devotion to King and country sometimes left a sick after-taste in his mouth, made him want to shake the boy into seeing some sense. Deep down though, he knew that he clung to Horatio’s friendship because a desperate part of him needed to believe that those values were true, and in Horatio Hornblower he’d found someone who embodied those qualities completely and utterly. There was also the belief that perhaps someday he may yet prove himself worthy of Horatio’s friendship, and of the qualities he exemplified. After all, what else did a soldier have to live for, if not duty and honour?
It wasn’t until Archie heard that familiar tone of concern that he realized he was being distant.
“Alright are you, Archie?”
Snapping out of his melancholic thoughts, Archie graced Horatio with a heartfelt smile. He liked the unconscious way in which Horatio’s speech had begun to reflect his, how his speech had begun to mirror Horatio’s. There was a sort of comfort there, a proof of their closeness - the synchronization of two souls, or so Archie liked to think, in his rather more fanciful moods when he’d had more than his fair share of wine.
“Quite alright thank you Horatio - or should I call your Lt. Hornblower now? I’d hate for you to think I was displaying a lack of decorum by being too familiar with a superior officer,” he teased as they sat down to their usual table. Horatio managed to suppress his grin, offering his customary look of affectionate dissaproval instead.
“Don’t be ridiculous Archie - besides, you’ll be a lieutenant soon enough. I have every faith in your ability to pass your examination.”
“But of course,” retorted Archie rather smugly, “and I shall pass it the first time around too, see if I don’t.”
This time Horatio flushed quite red despite himself and the puckish remark earned Archie the wonderful spectacle of a much-irritated Horatio struggling with the right reply. Unable to find one he settled for what he always did - the gentleman’s response.
“Yes, well. As I said - I have every faith in your ability Archie.”
It was the fact that Archie knew Horatio to be incapable of lying that made him beam with a warmth that seemed to emanate from inside - to know that Horatio believed in him was worth the approval of any examination board the Admiralty could cook up a thousand times over, and for a brief moment Archie had forgotten all about the memories associated with the Lamb Inn.
“You’ve not smiled like that since we arrived in Portsmouth harbour.”
It was a comment that threw Archie off completely. Horatio was many things, most of them brilliant, but an observer of human nature he was not and that he should’ve noticed Archie’s grim mood at all was extraordinary considering how well the young lieutenant thought he’d masked his true sentiments. If Horatio could see through him it was no wonder he’d never been accepted as an actor at Drury Lane.
“It’s been a tiring couple of weeks Horatio, this damn weather has finally taken its toll on me.” Unlike Horatio, Archie lied easily through his teeth, as if it were second-nature. He hadn’t expected anymore questioning, but Horatio was far from done with probing.
“Archie…” came the familiar plea; always, always dissaproval and affection in equal measure. Like speaking to a child, Archie thought ungraciously.
“What?”
“Archie, I’d hoped we were good enough friends that you’d never have to wear a mask with me.”
That took Archie by surprise. He was still getting used to this Horatio, the Horatio who had fought battles without him and won over the hearts and minds of the crew so completely their loyalty to him almost rivaled their loyalty to Pellew. The Horatio he had known on back on Justinian would have never been this bold, never have been this candid. In truth Archie found himself quite lost for words, something he had never imagined he’d ever experience in Horatio’s presence.
Unable to escape Horatio’s stern gaze Archie realised he wasn’t going to let him go that easily, but Archie was damned if he would give in.
Flippantly he retorted, “What an odd thing to say, of course we’re good friends Horatio - you don’t think I’d spend shore leave with people I dislike, do you?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Do I?” asked Archie, “to be quite honest with you Horatio I don’t think I know what you mean at all. I am tired, it’s been a long week and I’m sick of this miserable endless rain. Pray tell, what else did you expect me to say?”
Archie could tell the moment he’d said it that he’d offended Horatio, but that still hadn’t prepared him for the flicker of hurt that crossed his friend’s features before they dissolved back into their habitual stoicism. It was the same flicker of hurt he’d seen back in El Ferrol when he’d thrown Horatio’s help back in his face and it was the same flicker of hurt that Archie had inflicted on him when he’d said they could not be friends anymore, otherwise Simpson would kill them. That flicker of hurt seemed to cut Archie to the quick every time, and Archie was tired of being at its mercy.
“I’m sorry Archie; it’s none of my business of course. I won’t ask again.”
Archie sighed. Damn him anyway, he thought. He hated arguing with Horatio. Archie was beginning to discover that keeping secrets from one’s only friends was tricky navigating indeed, and so he forced himself to change the tone of the conversation.
“You look sour enough to curdle milk Horatio. I think you might be putting even my bad mood to shame and we can’t have that - another ale?”
Horatio gave him a half-smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes.
“I’m sure you’re right Archie - another ale then.”
Perhaps it was the fact that Horatio had so prettily conceded defeat to Archie’s belligerent deflection or perhaps it was because Archie couldn’t bear to have Horatio sore with him, but whatever the cause Archie found to his surprise that when the moment came for him to fetch their pints of ale he could not leave.
Instead he tried desperately to find the right words, the words that would make Horatio understand why there were still things he couldn’t say.
“Horatio…you know that I’m eternally grateful to you for what you did at El Ferrol. You fought for me when no one else would, not even myself, and were it not for you I’d probably be dead by now.”
Horatio had begun to counter him but Archie held up a hand to silence him.
“No - whatever you’re going to say, no. You know it as well as I do, if it weren’t for you I’d have given up on life altogether and given the Spanish the satisfaction of seeing one of His Majesty’s officers waste away in their prison.”
“I only did what any other man would have done.”
“But that’s just it, don’t you see? No other man would have done what you did - delay you’re escape so that an invalid prisoner who refused to even eat his own meals could get better? I swear Horatio, one of these days your sense of honour will get you killed. The rest of them couldn’t wait to leave me to rot; Matthews, Styles, Hunter, they’re all King’s men, aren’t they? Yet not one of them thought twice about leaving me in that pit, so don’t tell me you only did what any other man would have done. I know damned well that isn’t true. And I’m grateful for it. Truly. But I’m not the same boy you knew on Justinian, do you understand? In many ways I’m as good as a stranger to you.”
“A stranger who chose to go back to that very pit and serve my parole with me when you were under no obligation to do so,” Horatio quickly pointed out. Archie smiled wryly.
“I suppose you have that affect on people Horatio - soon you’ll have the entire navy performing ridiculous acts of honour willy-nilly. It’ll be the death of us all.”
That made them both grin. For a moment Archie felt his heart lighten at the familiarity of the exchange and he could almost fool himself into believing that it was just like back when they were boys on the Justinian, before Simpson.
“But that’s why they love you - the men, I mean.” It’s why I love you thought Archie, but he knew better than to say that out loud. “You make people want to be better than they are. I don’t believe there’s a single dishonest bone in your entire body and by god somehow you’ve managed to survive this bloody war despite it. But most men aren’t like you. Most officers are not like you, do you understand? There are things…you could not even begin to imagine them Horatio. I’m not the same person you knew, and there are things that I cannot speak of yet. Do you see?”
For a moment there was silence and Archie could see that Horatio was mulling over some of his own thoughts by the way his brows furrowed.
What Horatio said next left Archie at a loss for words.
“I thought of you every day, you know. I didn’t know what to do with myself when I’d realised you were gone. I couldn’t bear it, the thought that I might have been responsible for what happened.”
Archie steeled himself. Horatio had told him of course, what had happened that night when they attacked the Papillion. He’d had a fit. Horatio had knocked him out to prevent the rest of the crew from being discovered and killed. He’d merely done what any sensible soldier would have done. Archie knew that. How the cutter ended up adrift was a mystery, but it was hard to feel at all reasonably about it when all Archie remembered was waking up terrified in an empty boat in the middle of the sea with no food or water and no land or ship to be seen for miles.
Though he knew it was irrational, a part of him blamed Horatio for his subsequent imprisonment and it was a subject (there were many, Archie was beginning to realise) that he couldn’t talk to Horatio about. Not if he still wanted to be friends with him. And he did. He so desperately did.
“I couldn’t believe it when I found you in El Ferrol. I thought you were some ghost come to haunt me.”
Archie smiled grimly.
“Believe me Horatio; I could have said the same about you. You gave me the fright of my life when I saw you. I thought I was having a nightmare - that I was back on Justinian again with Simpson…” his voice drifted off.
“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.” said Horatio gently.
Archie snorted but said nothing. Simpson couldn’t physically hurt him anymore, but the memories were another thing.
“I know that things are different now and that we’ve both changed, but I hope that with time you may come to trust me again. Truly Archie, you are the only friend I have in all the world and I have been more alone in these last few years than I have ever been in all my life.”
The words had a funny effect on Archie, who felt an odd tightening in his chest at the thought of Horatio having been lonely without him.
“I do trust you Horatio,” said Archie gently, “I trust you with my life. You know that. But as for the rest…it will take time, that is all.”
Horatio nodded, indicating that he had understood and for a while they merely sat there enjoying the fine food and simply being in one another’s presence.
By the time the clock struck midnight Archie and Horatio were back on amicable terms; with Archie teasing Horatio mercilessly and Horatio allowing him to do so because he secretly enjoyed it. As they got up to leave the tavern, Archie paused for a moment before the old mariner’s table.
“Wait a moment Horatio, I won’t be a minute.”
Horatio wondered at what his friend was plotting. To his surprise, Archie had gone to buy another pint of ale, but not for himself. Horatio watched as his friend placed the mug in the blind mariner’s hands and wondered curiously about what words were being exchanged and how Archie knew the man.
“Who was that?” he asked, once Archie was done. Archie merely gave him another one of those half-smiles that hid more than it revealed.
“Just an old friend.”
Knowing that he wouldn’t get a more elaborate answer than that, Horatio nodded and said nothing more.
“Shall we go?”
“Yes, let’s.” said Archie, taking Horatio by the arm and leading him out of the Inn, into the night.