Fic: World Turned Upside Down
Inspired by this and this, those (*#$&(#&$(#* plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this down. Because I'm greedy and love an excuse to write cuddly stuff, I couldn't choose just one idea, so I combined them all.
TITLE: World Turned Upside Down.
RATING: G.
WORD COUNT: 2,969
PAIRING, IF ANY: None.
SPOILER WARNING: For the Duel
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: Horatio, after the duel, wallows in angst. But karma's not having that...
Horatio flinched, resting his hand against his wounded shoulder. The doctor had successfully removed the bullet and stitched up the injury, but due to the location, it was inevitable that the threads would be constantly tugged. After everything that had happened that morning, Pellew had taken him off watch for the rest of the day to give him some time to heal. The gesture was appreciated, but at the moment, what Horatio really wanted was something to take his mind off of recent events.
The past two days had been a whirlwind of activity. The assault on the Papillon, a near shooting and drowning, losing two commanding officers, beating back three corvettes, the duel with Simpson, and of course Simpson’s death would have been enough to leave any man exhausted. But all Horatio could think of was that sickening moment when he’d struck his closest friend on the head so as not to imperil their mission. That would have been bad enough-his division had assured him that it had had to be done, although Horatio thought otherwise-but then the rope affixing the jolly boat to the Papillon had come loose, and sent the boat adrift, Archie still unconscious inside. Simpson had crowed that he was to blame for Archie’s death, but the truth was, he shared the blame for that with Horatio. Why hadn’t he just gagged him to keep him quiet? Then there was a chance that he wouldn’t have…
Horatio shivered. On top of all this, that night dip in the cold Atlantic waters had chilled him, and no amount of blankets or hot tea seemed to drive the cold away. If he rested a little, it would probably clear up in a day or two. In the here and now, though, it was causing a few problems.
He sneezed unexpectedly, and gasped in pain as his stitches stretched in protest. Just what he needed; his own body was fighting with itself. Resigning himself to being in a constant state of pain for the next few days, he picked up his cloak and wrapped it around him. Taking the air and warm sun up on deck might do him good.
The first thing he saw when he reached the deck was Matthews, wrapping a coil of rope. He paused in the task and gave Horatio a salute, smiling sympathetically. Horatio nodded and turned away quickly, leaning his arms gingerly on the railing and looking out to sea. He could spy the batteries off in the distance, and the ring of guilt around his heart contracted painfully. Had they spotted the jolly boat and fired on it, tearing it apart? Or had the boat drifted out into the open sea? In which case, Archie had no food, no water, and only his midshipman’s jacket to keep him warm. How long could a man, even one who’d spent years at sea, survive in such conditions? Horatio swallowed and lowered his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I wish I’d never done it.” Saying it aloud didn’t provide much comfort. He stifled another sneeze and felt a grim pleasure as his stitches tugged again; penance for his sins.
“Mr. Hornblower? What are you doing up here? I believe I took you off the watch for today.”
Horatio turned to face his captain. “Yes, sir, you did. I came up here to take the air, that’s all.”
Pellew looked at him for a moment. Then he made a noise that sounded like a sigh. “As you were, Mr. Hornblower.”
“Yes sir.”
“Captain!” Mr. Bracegirdle’s voice rang out from the other end of the deck, “The lookouts have spotted something strange on the port side!”
“A ship?” Pellew said curiously, turning away from Horatio. Horatio followed behind him, welcoming the distraction. Bracegirdle didn’t answer the question until the captain was beside him. “Too small to be a ship. Looks more like an abandoned boat.”
Horatio froze. Surely it couldn’t…and even if it was, he couldn’t possibly…
“Sir!” Bracegirdle said, lowering his telescope and turning towards Pellew, a bit of a smile coming to his face, “There’s a man in the boat, and he’s wearing our colors!”
“Well, bring the ship round to pick him up, man!” Pellew responded.
Horatio felt dizzy, and put his hands on the railing to steady himself. Surely he was imagining all this. He must be more addled than he thought. But he would stay and watch for a little while, just to be sure.
It was fifteen minutes before you could see the boat with the naked eye, and another ten minutes after that before the Indefatigable pulled up beside it. As he peered down at the boat, Horatio caught sight of a blond queue. Two things happened simultaneously after that; a wave of relief washed over him, causing his legs to wobble ominously, and a bubble of shame grew in the pit of his stomach. What must Archie think? After such a harrowing experience, the last thing he’d want to see is the man who put him in that position. Horatio pushed away from the railing and slunk behind a stack of barrels-he couldn’t quite bring himself to disappear entirely.
“You men, there!” Pellew roared, “get that boat back onto the ship!” Horatio could hear an excited murmur of voices, which turned into a cheer a minute later. He wanted to look, but kept his resolve. “Give him space, for God’s sake!” Pellew snapped. Then, in a milder tone, “I must admit, we didn’t expect to find you out here, Mr. Kennedy. Not after all that’s happened.”
“I’m as surprised as you are, sir,” Archie said, his voice raspy from lack of water, “But I’m grateful for it, all the same.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Parched, hungry, and a bit sore in the head,” came the response (Horatio slid further down against the barrels at that), “But not much worse for wear.”
“I suppose you could do with a rest before you take up your duties once more,” Pellew said, a bit of humor creeping into his otherwise dry tone, “Are all my officers to be incapacitated this day?”
“I won’t, sir.” Bracegirdle responded.
“Thank God for that. Well then, I leave Mr. Kennedy in your hands. He’s not to return to work until he’s been looked over by the doctor and had at least twenty-four hours off duty. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” two voices said. Horatio heard Pellew’s footsteps striding down the deck to oversee the recovery of the jolly boat. That left Bracegirdle and Archie alone. “All our officers?” Archie repeated, curious.
“Well, not all of them,” Bracegirdle said with a bit of a smile, “There’s still Mr. Bowles and myself. But we lost Chad and Eccelston to the Papillon, and Mr. Hornblower’s been injured and taken off the duty roster himself.”
“Hornblower injured?” Archie said, “How?”
“You share a berth with him, correct? I think he can tell you himself. Where the devil did he get off to? He was here a minute ago.”
It was inevitable that Horatio would sneeze again, audibly, at that moment. Cursing quietly, he stood up and came out of hiding, hand on his shoulder. “Pardon me,” he said politely, looking everywhere but at Archie, “I was…occupied.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Bracegirdle said, “Would you mind taking Mr. Kennedy down to sickbay to be looked at? Then you can accompany him back to your room; you both could do with some sleep, I think.”
Horatio nodded, saluted, and turned to Archie, looking at a point over his shoulder as he held out a hand. “Well met, Mr. Kennedy.”
Archie’s hand took his and squeezed firmly. “Good to see you too, Mr. Hornblower.”
Horatio swallowed and cleared his throat. “This way.”
He walked just ahead of Archie, wanting to say something, but the words kept dying in his throat. He knew he needed to apologize, but he would wait until they were back in their cabin for that. Besides, he wanted to know what the doctor’s report was.
It was better than he’d expected. “A bit burned on the face, suffering from thirst, and a crack on the head. How’s your vision?”
“Fine.”
“No difficulty speaking or walking?”
“None.”
“I’d still recommend some proper bedrest, just to make sure. But I think you could safely return to work in a day or two.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Archie said, sliding off the examining table, “I’ll do that. But first, I could do with a drink of water.”
“I’ll go with you,” Horatio said hurriedly, “We can go back to our berth together afterwards.” He kept his eyes on the wall, not wanting to see Archie’s expression. He did allow Horatio to follow him, though, which was a promising sign.
“Bracegirdle said you’d been injured,” Archie said as they went below, “How did that happen?”
“I…I was shot while fighting a duel.”
“A duel?” Archie seemed startled, “I thought Captain Pellew had forbidden you from dueling.”
“He made an exception this time. It was the only way to address my…recent issues with Mr. Simpson.”
Archie paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that he shot at me during the raid on the Papillon.”
“He didn’t!” Archie sounded horrified.
“He did. Grazed my head in the process. I brought it up before the captain afterwards, and Simpson denied it, of course. That’s when I was allowed to fight the duel.”
They had reached the water barrel by now, and Archie bent over it gratefully, but waved a hand to indicate that Horatio continue his story. He reluctantly did so. “It happened just this morning. Simpson shot at me on the count of two, not three. Hit me right in the shoulder. It didn’t do any serious damage, but it still hurts, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to heal.” He rubbed the wound gently.
Archie raised his head from the barrel with a sigh of relief from getting some water in him. Horatio closed the top before they both turned towards their cabin. “Then what?” Archie prompted, “He couldn’t get away with that, surely.”
“He didn’t,” Horatio reassured him, “Despite the blood leaking from my shoulder, I was still standing, and was allowed to take my shot. Simpson fell to his knees and started begging for his life.” Even now, despite everything, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory. “I’d had my satisfaction. No one who was present would ever see him the same way again. I shot into the air and told him he wasn’t worth the powder.”
He opened the door to the cabin and allowed Archie to go in first. “And then?”
“I’m not entirely clear on the facts-the pain took over at that point-but I gather that Simpson came at me with a knife, at which point he was shot by Captain Pellew.”
Archie froze suddenly, standing very still in the middle of the room. Horatio closed the door quickly. “Archie?”
“Shot?” Archie repeated quietly, “Does that mean he’s…”
“Dead,” Horatio said, “Thank the lord for small mercies.”
“Thank God.” Archie said, and the weak relief in his voice was so palpable that Horatio finally managed to look into his face. He looked exhausted, with heavy shadows under his eyes, but he was actually smiling wanly. “It’s over.”
“It’s over,” Horatio agreed, feeling that bubble of shame rise a little higher, “He won’t bother y…us again.”
“It’s like a miracle. And I have you to thank for it.”
Horatio took a step backwards. “Me? No, Archie, no. I didn’t do anything.”
“You weren’t the one who killed him, but you exposed him for what he was. He wouldn’t have been shot if you hadn’t had that duel. If you hadn’t stood up and reported what he’d done, he’d just have returned to his old ways. You ended it, and for that, I’m grateful.”
Horatio turned away, his guilt and shame mixing into one awful sensation in his chest. “Please, don’t. How can you say that, after what I’ve done?”
“What are you talking about, Horatio?” Archie said softly.
“You don’t remember?” Horatio closed his eyes and braced himself. “When…when we were in the jolly boat, you started having a fit. You were endangering the mission, making too much noise. Something had to be done, so I…I knocked you out with the tiller. That’s why your head hurts. It’s why you were stuck out there for two days. It was my fault.”
There was silence for a moment. Then a hand rested on Horatio’s good shoulder. “Look at me, Horatio.”
Horatio shook his head. He couldn’t look. He didn’t want to see the reproach in Archie’s eyes. His throat was starting to get tight.
Archie sighed. “Please, Horatio, look at me.”
Horatio took a deep breath and looked. Archie’s eyes were soft, and he was smiling a little. “Listen to me very carefully, Horatio. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”
“Yes it was!” Horatio protested, and now he was shaking, and he couldn’t seem to stop, “If I hadn’t struck you…”
“…The ships would have been shot to pieces by the Papillon, who would have been alerted to our presence. I know what I’m like when I get like that…gagging me wouldn’t have helped, not really. Knocking me out was the best course of action. Yes, I’m a bit sore, but that will pass. And from what I hear, the mission was a success. I’ll take my bump on the head in exchange for that.”
“But for two days…”
“Were you the one who tied the boat to the Papillon?”
“No.”
“Then you had nothing to do with it breaking loose. That, Horatio, was just pure bad luck.”
Horatio knew he should tell him what Simpson had said, but he couldn’t. Not now. Archie didn’t need to know just how badly Simpson had it out for him. “You could have died…”
Archie actually laughed a little. “I’m an officer of the King’s Navy, even if I’m just a midshipman. If I’d drifted into the bay, surely I’d have been picked up and sent to prison, not shot. And if I’d gone out to sea…Well, I’ve been on the ocean for awhile. I wouldn’t give up without a fight. I can be strong, when the situation calls for it.”
Horatio felt like his legs would no longer support him. Archie, seeing this, gently pushed him against the wall and slid him down to the floor. “No real harm’s been done, Horatio. In fact, a lot of good’s come out of it. Don’t blame yourself for a positive change.”
Horatio wanted to say something else, but was distracted by a harsh shiver, followed by an all too familiar itch in his nose. He pinched his nose and braced himself. Another sneeze, another tug on his stitches, another jolt of pain, and that bubble of shame finally popped. The tears poured down his face, and he suddenly was unable to hold back his sobs.
“N-no!” he choked out, turning his head away and covering his eyes, wiping at them furiously and trying to regain his control. But his body was disobeying him. He drew up his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible. No one should see him like this, not even Archie.
Then a hand tugged him forward, pressing him into something much more yielding then the wooden walls behind him. Archie’s arms rested lightly on his back. “It’s all right, Horatio. It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” Horatio gasped, burying his face in Archie’s shoulder instinctively, “I’m so sorry I’msosorryImsosorry.”
Archie rubbed his back in slow circles. “I know, I know. I forgive you. Shh…”
Horatio didn’t stop crying until it felt like he had soaked straight through Archie’s jacket. He sniffed wetly and shivered. “I just…” his voice cracked, and he shut his mouth again, not trusting himself to speak. Archie pulled away a little and looked into Horatio’s face. “Just try to breathe, Horatio.”
Horatio nodded weakly and swallowed. Archie reached out a hand and started gently touching Horatio’s forehead and cheeks. “Not too warm,” he noted, “I thought perhaps you were running a fever.”
“It’s just a chill,” Horatio managed, wiping at his eyes, “I’ll be all right with some rest.”
Archie helped him to his feet. “Then you should probably try to get some right now. It won’t do you any good to sit on the floor like that.”
Horatio automatically reached down to undo the buttons of his coat. “Here, here, let me,” Archie said gently, “You busy yourself with drying your face; it’s unpleasant to wake up to a salt-stained face.”
Horatio finally regained enough sense to pull his handkerchief out from his pocket and carefully wipe his face. He sneezed again in the course of doing so, and although the handkerchief muffled the sound, it did nothing to mask the whimper of pain that came after it as his shoulder voiced its displeasure. Horatio felt himself blush with embarrassment. Archie said nothing, instead removing Horatio’s coat and vest in one swoop. “There we are. Now off with your neckerchief and boots, and into the hammock. After everything that’s happened, sleep’s probably the best thing for you.” Horatio complied, too weak to even make a token protest.
Once he was safely into the hammock, he looked at Archie, still flushed in the face. “Thank you, Archie. I don’t dese…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Archie said affectionately, smoothing the blankets over Horatio, “Get some sleep. When you wake up, we can talk if you like.”
Horatio nodded, taking one last shuddering breath. His shoulder still hurt, and he was still a bit cold under the blankets. But as he closed his eyes, he felt like everything was going to be all right.
You know, I've never seen this plot twist written before. Has anyone else ever seen this sort of thing?
TITLE: World Turned Upside Down.
RATING: G.
WORD COUNT: 2,969
PAIRING, IF ANY: None.
SPOILER WARNING: For the Duel
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here.
SUMMARY/NOTES: Horatio, after the duel, wallows in angst. But karma's not having that...
Horatio flinched, resting his hand against his wounded shoulder. The doctor had successfully removed the bullet and stitched up the injury, but due to the location, it was inevitable that the threads would be constantly tugged. After everything that had happened that morning, Pellew had taken him off watch for the rest of the day to give him some time to heal. The gesture was appreciated, but at the moment, what Horatio really wanted was something to take his mind off of recent events.
The past two days had been a whirlwind of activity. The assault on the Papillon, a near shooting and drowning, losing two commanding officers, beating back three corvettes, the duel with Simpson, and of course Simpson’s death would have been enough to leave any man exhausted. But all Horatio could think of was that sickening moment when he’d struck his closest friend on the head so as not to imperil their mission. That would have been bad enough-his division had assured him that it had had to be done, although Horatio thought otherwise-but then the rope affixing the jolly boat to the Papillon had come loose, and sent the boat adrift, Archie still unconscious inside. Simpson had crowed that he was to blame for Archie’s death, but the truth was, he shared the blame for that with Horatio. Why hadn’t he just gagged him to keep him quiet? Then there was a chance that he wouldn’t have…
Horatio shivered. On top of all this, that night dip in the cold Atlantic waters had chilled him, and no amount of blankets or hot tea seemed to drive the cold away. If he rested a little, it would probably clear up in a day or two. In the here and now, though, it was causing a few problems.
He sneezed unexpectedly, and gasped in pain as his stitches stretched in protest. Just what he needed; his own body was fighting with itself. Resigning himself to being in a constant state of pain for the next few days, he picked up his cloak and wrapped it around him. Taking the air and warm sun up on deck might do him good.
The first thing he saw when he reached the deck was Matthews, wrapping a coil of rope. He paused in the task and gave Horatio a salute, smiling sympathetically. Horatio nodded and turned away quickly, leaning his arms gingerly on the railing and looking out to sea. He could spy the batteries off in the distance, and the ring of guilt around his heart contracted painfully. Had they spotted the jolly boat and fired on it, tearing it apart? Or had the boat drifted out into the open sea? In which case, Archie had no food, no water, and only his midshipman’s jacket to keep him warm. How long could a man, even one who’d spent years at sea, survive in such conditions? Horatio swallowed and lowered his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I wish I’d never done it.” Saying it aloud didn’t provide much comfort. He stifled another sneeze and felt a grim pleasure as his stitches tugged again; penance for his sins.
“Mr. Hornblower? What are you doing up here? I believe I took you off the watch for today.”
Horatio turned to face his captain. “Yes, sir, you did. I came up here to take the air, that’s all.”
Pellew looked at him for a moment. Then he made a noise that sounded like a sigh. “As you were, Mr. Hornblower.”
“Yes sir.”
“Captain!” Mr. Bracegirdle’s voice rang out from the other end of the deck, “The lookouts have spotted something strange on the port side!”
“A ship?” Pellew said curiously, turning away from Horatio. Horatio followed behind him, welcoming the distraction. Bracegirdle didn’t answer the question until the captain was beside him. “Too small to be a ship. Looks more like an abandoned boat.”
Horatio froze. Surely it couldn’t…and even if it was, he couldn’t possibly…
“Sir!” Bracegirdle said, lowering his telescope and turning towards Pellew, a bit of a smile coming to his face, “There’s a man in the boat, and he’s wearing our colors!”
“Well, bring the ship round to pick him up, man!” Pellew responded.
Horatio felt dizzy, and put his hands on the railing to steady himself. Surely he was imagining all this. He must be more addled than he thought. But he would stay and watch for a little while, just to be sure.
It was fifteen minutes before you could see the boat with the naked eye, and another ten minutes after that before the Indefatigable pulled up beside it. As he peered down at the boat, Horatio caught sight of a blond queue. Two things happened simultaneously after that; a wave of relief washed over him, causing his legs to wobble ominously, and a bubble of shame grew in the pit of his stomach. What must Archie think? After such a harrowing experience, the last thing he’d want to see is the man who put him in that position. Horatio pushed away from the railing and slunk behind a stack of barrels-he couldn’t quite bring himself to disappear entirely.
“You men, there!” Pellew roared, “get that boat back onto the ship!” Horatio could hear an excited murmur of voices, which turned into a cheer a minute later. He wanted to look, but kept his resolve. “Give him space, for God’s sake!” Pellew snapped. Then, in a milder tone, “I must admit, we didn’t expect to find you out here, Mr. Kennedy. Not after all that’s happened.”
“I’m as surprised as you are, sir,” Archie said, his voice raspy from lack of water, “But I’m grateful for it, all the same.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Parched, hungry, and a bit sore in the head,” came the response (Horatio slid further down against the barrels at that), “But not much worse for wear.”
“I suppose you could do with a rest before you take up your duties once more,” Pellew said, a bit of humor creeping into his otherwise dry tone, “Are all my officers to be incapacitated this day?”
“I won’t, sir.” Bracegirdle responded.
“Thank God for that. Well then, I leave Mr. Kennedy in your hands. He’s not to return to work until he’s been looked over by the doctor and had at least twenty-four hours off duty. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” two voices said. Horatio heard Pellew’s footsteps striding down the deck to oversee the recovery of the jolly boat. That left Bracegirdle and Archie alone. “All our officers?” Archie repeated, curious.
“Well, not all of them,” Bracegirdle said with a bit of a smile, “There’s still Mr. Bowles and myself. But we lost Chad and Eccelston to the Papillon, and Mr. Hornblower’s been injured and taken off the duty roster himself.”
“Hornblower injured?” Archie said, “How?”
“You share a berth with him, correct? I think he can tell you himself. Where the devil did he get off to? He was here a minute ago.”
It was inevitable that Horatio would sneeze again, audibly, at that moment. Cursing quietly, he stood up and came out of hiding, hand on his shoulder. “Pardon me,” he said politely, looking everywhere but at Archie, “I was…occupied.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Bracegirdle said, “Would you mind taking Mr. Kennedy down to sickbay to be looked at? Then you can accompany him back to your room; you both could do with some sleep, I think.”
Horatio nodded, saluted, and turned to Archie, looking at a point over his shoulder as he held out a hand. “Well met, Mr. Kennedy.”
Archie’s hand took his and squeezed firmly. “Good to see you too, Mr. Hornblower.”
Horatio swallowed and cleared his throat. “This way.”
He walked just ahead of Archie, wanting to say something, but the words kept dying in his throat. He knew he needed to apologize, but he would wait until they were back in their cabin for that. Besides, he wanted to know what the doctor’s report was.
It was better than he’d expected. “A bit burned on the face, suffering from thirst, and a crack on the head. How’s your vision?”
“Fine.”
“No difficulty speaking or walking?”
“None.”
“I’d still recommend some proper bedrest, just to make sure. But I think you could safely return to work in a day or two.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Archie said, sliding off the examining table, “I’ll do that. But first, I could do with a drink of water.”
“I’ll go with you,” Horatio said hurriedly, “We can go back to our berth together afterwards.” He kept his eyes on the wall, not wanting to see Archie’s expression. He did allow Horatio to follow him, though, which was a promising sign.
“Bracegirdle said you’d been injured,” Archie said as they went below, “How did that happen?”
“I…I was shot while fighting a duel.”
“A duel?” Archie seemed startled, “I thought Captain Pellew had forbidden you from dueling.”
“He made an exception this time. It was the only way to address my…recent issues with Mr. Simpson.”
Archie paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that he shot at me during the raid on the Papillon.”
“He didn’t!” Archie sounded horrified.
“He did. Grazed my head in the process. I brought it up before the captain afterwards, and Simpson denied it, of course. That’s when I was allowed to fight the duel.”
They had reached the water barrel by now, and Archie bent over it gratefully, but waved a hand to indicate that Horatio continue his story. He reluctantly did so. “It happened just this morning. Simpson shot at me on the count of two, not three. Hit me right in the shoulder. It didn’t do any serious damage, but it still hurts, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to heal.” He rubbed the wound gently.
Archie raised his head from the barrel with a sigh of relief from getting some water in him. Horatio closed the top before they both turned towards their cabin. “Then what?” Archie prompted, “He couldn’t get away with that, surely.”
“He didn’t,” Horatio reassured him, “Despite the blood leaking from my shoulder, I was still standing, and was allowed to take my shot. Simpson fell to his knees and started begging for his life.” Even now, despite everything, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory. “I’d had my satisfaction. No one who was present would ever see him the same way again. I shot into the air and told him he wasn’t worth the powder.”
He opened the door to the cabin and allowed Archie to go in first. “And then?”
“I’m not entirely clear on the facts-the pain took over at that point-but I gather that Simpson came at me with a knife, at which point he was shot by Captain Pellew.”
Archie froze suddenly, standing very still in the middle of the room. Horatio closed the door quickly. “Archie?”
“Shot?” Archie repeated quietly, “Does that mean he’s…”
“Dead,” Horatio said, “Thank the lord for small mercies.”
“Thank God.” Archie said, and the weak relief in his voice was so palpable that Horatio finally managed to look into his face. He looked exhausted, with heavy shadows under his eyes, but he was actually smiling wanly. “It’s over.”
“It’s over,” Horatio agreed, feeling that bubble of shame rise a little higher, “He won’t bother y…us again.”
“It’s like a miracle. And I have you to thank for it.”
Horatio took a step backwards. “Me? No, Archie, no. I didn’t do anything.”
“You weren’t the one who killed him, but you exposed him for what he was. He wouldn’t have been shot if you hadn’t had that duel. If you hadn’t stood up and reported what he’d done, he’d just have returned to his old ways. You ended it, and for that, I’m grateful.”
Horatio turned away, his guilt and shame mixing into one awful sensation in his chest. “Please, don’t. How can you say that, after what I’ve done?”
“What are you talking about, Horatio?” Archie said softly.
“You don’t remember?” Horatio closed his eyes and braced himself. “When…when we were in the jolly boat, you started having a fit. You were endangering the mission, making too much noise. Something had to be done, so I…I knocked you out with the tiller. That’s why your head hurts. It’s why you were stuck out there for two days. It was my fault.”
There was silence for a moment. Then a hand rested on Horatio’s good shoulder. “Look at me, Horatio.”
Horatio shook his head. He couldn’t look. He didn’t want to see the reproach in Archie’s eyes. His throat was starting to get tight.
Archie sighed. “Please, Horatio, look at me.”
Horatio took a deep breath and looked. Archie’s eyes were soft, and he was smiling a little. “Listen to me very carefully, Horatio. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”
“Yes it was!” Horatio protested, and now he was shaking, and he couldn’t seem to stop, “If I hadn’t struck you…”
“…The ships would have been shot to pieces by the Papillon, who would have been alerted to our presence. I know what I’m like when I get like that…gagging me wouldn’t have helped, not really. Knocking me out was the best course of action. Yes, I’m a bit sore, but that will pass. And from what I hear, the mission was a success. I’ll take my bump on the head in exchange for that.”
“But for two days…”
“Were you the one who tied the boat to the Papillon?”
“No.”
“Then you had nothing to do with it breaking loose. That, Horatio, was just pure bad luck.”
Horatio knew he should tell him what Simpson had said, but he couldn’t. Not now. Archie didn’t need to know just how badly Simpson had it out for him. “You could have died…”
Archie actually laughed a little. “I’m an officer of the King’s Navy, even if I’m just a midshipman. If I’d drifted into the bay, surely I’d have been picked up and sent to prison, not shot. And if I’d gone out to sea…Well, I’ve been on the ocean for awhile. I wouldn’t give up without a fight. I can be strong, when the situation calls for it.”
Horatio felt like his legs would no longer support him. Archie, seeing this, gently pushed him against the wall and slid him down to the floor. “No real harm’s been done, Horatio. In fact, a lot of good’s come out of it. Don’t blame yourself for a positive change.”
Horatio wanted to say something else, but was distracted by a harsh shiver, followed by an all too familiar itch in his nose. He pinched his nose and braced himself. Another sneeze, another tug on his stitches, another jolt of pain, and that bubble of shame finally popped. The tears poured down his face, and he suddenly was unable to hold back his sobs.
“N-no!” he choked out, turning his head away and covering his eyes, wiping at them furiously and trying to regain his control. But his body was disobeying him. He drew up his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible. No one should see him like this, not even Archie.
Then a hand tugged him forward, pressing him into something much more yielding then the wooden walls behind him. Archie’s arms rested lightly on his back. “It’s all right, Horatio. It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” Horatio gasped, burying his face in Archie’s shoulder instinctively, “I’m so sorry I’msosorryImsosorry.”
Archie rubbed his back in slow circles. “I know, I know. I forgive you. Shh…”
Horatio didn’t stop crying until it felt like he had soaked straight through Archie’s jacket. He sniffed wetly and shivered. “I just…” his voice cracked, and he shut his mouth again, not trusting himself to speak. Archie pulled away a little and looked into Horatio’s face. “Just try to breathe, Horatio.”
Horatio nodded weakly and swallowed. Archie reached out a hand and started gently touching Horatio’s forehead and cheeks. “Not too warm,” he noted, “I thought perhaps you were running a fever.”
“It’s just a chill,” Horatio managed, wiping at his eyes, “I’ll be all right with some rest.”
Archie helped him to his feet. “Then you should probably try to get some right now. It won’t do you any good to sit on the floor like that.”
Horatio automatically reached down to undo the buttons of his coat. “Here, here, let me,” Archie said gently, “You busy yourself with drying your face; it’s unpleasant to wake up to a salt-stained face.”
Horatio finally regained enough sense to pull his handkerchief out from his pocket and carefully wipe his face. He sneezed again in the course of doing so, and although the handkerchief muffled the sound, it did nothing to mask the whimper of pain that came after it as his shoulder voiced its displeasure. Horatio felt himself blush with embarrassment. Archie said nothing, instead removing Horatio’s coat and vest in one swoop. “There we are. Now off with your neckerchief and boots, and into the hammock. After everything that’s happened, sleep’s probably the best thing for you.” Horatio complied, too weak to even make a token protest.
Once he was safely into the hammock, he looked at Archie, still flushed in the face. “Thank you, Archie. I don’t dese…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Archie said affectionately, smoothing the blankets over Horatio, “Get some sleep. When you wake up, we can talk if you like.”
Horatio nodded, taking one last shuddering breath. His shoulder still hurt, and he was still a bit cold under the blankets. But as he closed his eyes, he felt like everything was going to be all right.
You know, I've never seen this plot twist written before. Has anyone else ever seen this sort of thing?