Archie: Lingering Nightmares
The nightmares don’t come as often as they used to, this much is certain. Not the ones that had left him shuddering even when they didn’t throw him into fits, that made him nearly as frightened to sleep as he was to be caught awake by him. Not even the ones that he had resignedly grown used to when prison had destroyed all the other workings of his brain, from fear to hope. No, he is free of those nightmares now, just as he is free of the way they had been able to hold him down, even in the absence of the one who had created them. They had dissipated, starting slowly in his recovery in Spain, filtering away in both number and intensity with his return to the Indefatigable, dropping off as he began to gain something resembling confidence...
But this doesn’t mean that they have entirely left him. He still awakes in a cold sweat with a start on occasion, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that most likely won’t allow him to sleep for the rest of the night. Once in a while, a certain inflection of voice will make him flinch; a certain touch will force him to suppress a wince. Once he had been passing through the ship belowdecks and had felt a touch on his shoulder that had nearly made him cry out. When he’d turned around, it had been Horatio, face obviously surprised and confused at the reaction. His friend, his hero. And yet he still hadn’t been able to stop the memory from resurfacing. He had fled the scene in shame.
Later, he had evaded questions, a task that hadn’t been particularly difficult, since Horatio didn’t seem to quite know how to bring it up in the first place. But finally, the agitation from earlier that lingered and grew got to be too much for the concerned friend.
“Archie, is something bothering you?” But a shake of the head was the only response Horatio had received. But this had only served to make him more worried. “What is this about?” he had demanded. “Earlier you looked as if you had seen a ghost. You still do.”
“Nothing, Horatio,” his voice quiet, forceful. “I was only startled. Bad memories...”
That must have triggered something in Horatio’s brain, because almost immediately had come, “Simpson?” Archie hadn’t responded, prompting Horatio to continue. “He’s long dead, Archie. It’s been ages since you have had anything to fear.”
“I know; that isn’t it.” His voice was still quiet.
“Then what is it?”
“Sometimes something will just remind me.”
“But why? Archie, I don’t see…”
“Some things you can’t just forget.” It had been sharper than he had intended, but had promptly silenced the other man. The subject had been dropped.
But there is something he is still afraid of. It isn’t the same fear, and it is more latent, docile, even, but it is still present. It too is a fear that was inherited from Simpson, though Archie would be loathe to admit it. He is afraid that someday, someone will find out. Find out what it is that gives him nightmares, what it is that he cannot forget, even after all this time. The shame would destroy him, he is sure.
People had known, back then. No one had ever directly said anything to him, but that didn’t mean they weren’t above calling in ‘Simpson’s boy’ when he was in earshot. And Clayton had known. But Clayton had been an ally, or at least a fellow prisoner. He had understood, almost.
But now things are different and the dreaded world of the Justinian is far behind him. There are rumors, true, mixed in with the rest of the gossip that is inevitable on such a ship, but his only prayer is that Horatio never get wind of these rumors. That is where his fears really sit, he realizes. He trusts Horatio with all his heart, but Horatio does not deserve to know that such evil existed in the world. You do not know what he is capable of.
Let it stay that way. And let the nightmares continue to diminish until they too are only a memory.