I Think You Were There - IV-Epilogue
IV.
“Making my entrance again with my usual flair
“Sure of my life-
No one is there.”
“Are you in love with him, then?”
Archie looked back, startled, from the window seat where he was sitting, to the bed on which he had imagined Daniel to still be asleep. Morning light streamed in where he had pushed back the curtain. It more than a year after their first night together, and finally Archie had come ashore to see him again. Still half-dressed, he met his lover’s gaze questioningly. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Whoever you think about when you sit there in the morning, staring out that window like that. Do you love them?”
But Archie still looked perplexed. “I was just thinking about what I would tell Horatio when I got back to the ship tonight.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, gliding across the room to join Archie. “Not about your night’s escapades, I hope?” he queried wryly, sitting behind him and slipping his arms around his waist.
Archie sunk easily back into the embrace. “No, no. I mean about my promotion. I’m Acting Lieutenant now.”
Daniel blinked. “You didn’t tell me…”
“I didn’t tell you?” Archie turned his head back to meet his gaze, frowning slightly. “I… I’m sorry, I thought I did. The captain told me right before I went ashore. I wasn’t able to find a chance to speak to Horatio about it…”
“A belated and much deserved congratulations, then,” Daniel told him with a proud smile, adding with a small smirk after a moment, “No wonder you were in such a good mood last night.”
Archie chuckled, resting his head back against Daniel’s shoulder. “I’m terrified, really. Means I have to start preparing for my exam,” he admitted wryly. “And aren’t I always in a good mood to see you?”
A smirk. “Well…” In response, Archie snorted, and the two fell silent. The blond relaxed, eyes half-closed, but Daniel found that he could not keep quite comfortable, until eventually, he broke the silence. “Archie, can I ask you something?”
“Mm?”
“I know we never really made any sort of agreement about this, but…” he swallowed, “is there anyone else?”
Archie opened his eyes and looked back at him, genuinely startled. “Daniel, no…”
“Not ever… your Horatio?”
The blond’s expression became incredulous. “Of course not.”
“It’s only… you talk about him a lot – in your letters.”
“That hardly makes him my Horatio…” Archie shook his head. “He would probably think it disgusting if he knew I…” he trailed off, biting his lip. “Upright and moral and all that.” When Daniel winced in response, he shrugged. “I actually… sort of like it about him.”
“That he would think you’re disgusting?”
“No, that’s not…” Archie bit his lip, struggling to find the words to explain. “He’s so sure of what is right, so certain… it would be nice to be that certain about something.”
For a long moment there was silence, but then Daniel spoke. “I’m that certain about something,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on Archie’s bare shoulder.
A chuckle. “Oh?”
“You.”
Archie threw his head back and laughed. “You haven’t been listening to a word I have been saying, have you?”
“It isn’t easy when you look so…”
“Oh, go back to bed.” A snort.
“Only if you’ll come with me?”
When Archie nodded, Daniel kissed him, and they tumbled from the sun-warmed window seat and back to the bed.
Archie was wrong, though – Daniel had been listening. And he knew what that wistful tone meant, even if Archie did not.
V.
“Aren’t we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in midair.”
They were luckier next time – it was only six more months before Archie was able to come ashore again. But they had been a long a trying six months.
After the disaster at Muzillac, including his humiliation at the bridge, Archie sunk further into himself. Uncertainties about his abilities seemed to have come true. Everything he had feared had happened, it seemed – he had been unable to command, he had panicked. Archie found that he did not dare meet the gaze of most of the crew for fear of seeing the scorn that he was certain must lie in their eyes.
He had come close to truly talking to Horatio only once, a day or so after their return from the French defeat. Archie had been leaving his newly-acquired cabin when Horatio had entered the gunroom. His head was bowed and he was hunched over, almost as if he hoped to disappear into the collar of his uniform, but the gesture only made his ungainly frame all the more apparent.
Archie had frozen, swallowing hard. “Horatio..?” he somehow managed uncertainly.
Horatio looked up sharply, immediately straightening. A smile even flickered across his face, but his eyes were red… dear god, had he been crying?. “Archie.” He nodded in response, continuing across the room, but Archie spoke again, still uncertain.
“Is… is everything all right?”
Horatio had stiffened then. “Yes, of course,” came his smart reply, and then he had turned abruptly to enter his cabin.
Archie had wanted to fling his arms around his friend then, comfort him, tell him that everything was all right, and always would be because he was there – but he had only watched him go, biting hard into his lip to force the tears back that had suddenly sprung into his eyes.
In the past, such despondence could be evaporated just at the thought of the distraction waiting in Daniel Cunningham’s arms, but now, even that was not enough. Thus it was with a heavy heart and a sinking stomach that Archie mounted the steps to his lover’s room in the Portsmouth lodging house. For a long moment, he even stood still before the door, contemplating what would happen if he did not knock, if he instead turned away and spent the evening’s leave in the company of his own misery as he so wished to do. Perhaps – perhaps he could return another time, in better spirits, without this dark cloud, a cloud he had always sworn he would keep from Daniel, hanging over him.
But Daniel was waiting, he knew. Archie knocked.
There was a rather distracted “Coming!” heard from inside, a shuffle of papers, and then the sound of a number of objects tumbling. Even in his melancholy, Archie smiled indulgently at the inadvertent chaos that the man created even in the simple act of answering the door.
Finally, the door swung open to reveal a rather flustered looking Daniel Cunningham who brightened instantly at the sight of Archie. “So it /is/ you,” he grinned, ushering the blond in and closing the door behind him. “You needn’t bother knocking, you know. It only causes…” He waved his hand, indicating the pile of books on the floor next to his desk – the source of the earlier crash.
Archie managed a chuckle that was almost truly genuine. “More trouble than it’s worth?”
“No, no, never that.” Daniel laughed in response and kissed him.
Archie responded, but only distractedly, and for the first time Daniel noticed his awkward stance, still near the door, that was so different from his relaxed, not-a-care-in-the-world manner that Daniel was used to. And yet, Archie’s tense, inward expression, so clear even as he tried to hide it, seemed familiar.
He was silent for a moment, frowning slightly, and then he realized why. The expression was the same one that Archie had worn when he had first laid eyes on him nearly two years previous.
“What?” Archie interrupted Daniel’s reverie with a wry chuckle and a raised eyebrow.
Daniel hesitated, but forced himself to ask, “Is everything quite all right?”
There was a long pause. “Of course,” Archie said finally, his tone unconvincingly quiet. He dropped his chin, his blue eyes flickering away from Daniel’s hazel ones.
With that, any uncertainty vanished. “What is it, Archie?” Daniel tilted the blond’s chin up, but still Archie averted his gaze.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not yourself. Has something-”
“Damnit, I told you, Daniel, I’m bloody fine!” Daniel swallowed hard, startled by the sudden outburst.
It seemed to startle Archie just as much. He ducked his head again, clutching the back of a nearby chair and sinking onto its seat a moment later. “Daniel… I’m sorry. It has been a long week, that’s all. Nothing we need to worry about now.” He looked up again, this time with his more usual grin.
It wasn’t returned, though. Daniel stood beside the chair, looking down at Archie with a frown, his face creased with worry. “Has… anything happened?” he finally asked hesitantly.
There was a pause. “Nothing you need worry yourself with,” Archie said finally, managing to hold his calm expression, but having to avert his gaze again.
“Really?” With a sudden burst of determination and uncharacteristic seriousness, Daniel kneeled beside his lover, taking his hand. “I’m never quite sure, and even in your letters you seem to do this-”
“Do what?” Archie stood and pulled away, retreating to the window that looked out on the street. He clasped his hands in front of him. He was fine, his hands were not trembling, they weren’t… He heard Daniel come up behind him, felt him place a hand on his shoulder.
“I am no fool, Archie,” his words were quiet and careful, clearly long thought over, “I know when there are things you don’t say, and I do worry, even if I have no right to…”
“What sorts of things?” Archie did not look at him as he cut in. “Believe me, there is really little of interest that goes on on the ship, and if this is about Horatio again-”
“No, no, Archie.” Daniel interrupted his defensive justification. He pulled his hand from Archie’s shoulder and frustratedly retreated to the chair at his desk that Archie had previously occupied. “You give me banal anecdotes, pages and pages of cheerful commentary about everything and anything, and still I feel as if I don’t know a damned thing about you. When I’ve actually seen you, it has felt like you’re ignoring the very uniform you wear. And today – you show up on my doorstep looking as if someone has died, and yet I haven’t received a damned word about it!” He swallowed, gripping the back of his chair, and his voice dropped shakily. “It’s almost as if you’re… you’re hiding from yourself, Archie.”
The words stung as much as if Daniel had slapped him. Archie physically winced, a pained, almost betrayed gaze flicking briefly over his shoulder at the other man. He felt cut open, laid open to the core; a sickening feeling of vulnerability that he had for months barely been able to keep at bay had been brought to the surface. “Don’t be absurd,” he countered sharply, snapping at Daniel as a last source of protection before he crumbled entirely. “You don’t know anything, you don’t…’’ He stopped, realizing he was shaking. Daniel started toward him, but Archie continued in a dangerously unstable whisper. “I should probably go. I shouldn’t have come.”
Daniel stopped. For a moment, he looked as if he would protest, but then his expression became resigned and he nodded. “I only wish you wouldn’t hide,” was his only quiet response.
Against all reason, it was Horatio who came to mind when Archie heard the words. “I don’t know what else to do,” came his final whisper before he fled the room. He nearly tumbled out into the street, barely muffling a sob that had been lodged in his throat through the entire conversation, and hurried to the nearest pub.
***
After enough drinks to allow him to sleep, if not what one might call restfully, and a night crumpled alone on a bed in a rented room, Archie returned to the Indefatigable. He was not due on watch until that evening, and in any other circumstances would have taken advantage of what was essentially an extra day on shore, but now he could not fathom a day spent in the room he had found, torturously contemplating whether or not to go see Daniel again. So with a head that ached – though due more to his unshed tears than to the alcohol he had drunk – he collapsed back into his small cabin and onto his bunk with every intention of never moving again.
The knock that came to his door a number of hours later was so tentative, so unsure that Archie, who had sworn to himself that he would not answer the door to anyone, could not in good conscience ignore it and weakly bade his visitor enter.
“Archie?” Horatio came in hesitantly, his voice as uncertain as his knock had been a moment ago. Kennedy hastily rubbed his still-red eyes and managed a smile in greeting, but Horatio’s forehead creased with a frown. “Is… is everything all right?” When Archie merely shrugged in response, Hornblower bit his lip, tone going hurt as he added quickly. “I’m sure you want to be left alone.”
But before Horatio could turn to go, Archie stopped him, finally speaking. “No, wait.” He met Horatio’s gaze. “I… I don’t.” And as Archie said it, he realized just how true it was, that all he had wanted since he had left Daniel’s room was to see his best friend. Horatio managed a slow nod.
“ ‘ratio…” Archie swallowed hard, his hands clenching slightly as he summed up the courage to continue, “may I ask you something?” Hornblower frowned, but nodded again, gazing down at him steadily. Archie nodded in return. “Am I… do I ‘hide from myself’?” Daniel’s words still tasted sour in his mouth.
“Of course not,” came Horatio’s immediate reply, though his expression was slightly puzzled. But as his friend continued to stare up at him expectantly, his blue eyes uncommonly bright, Horatio ducked his head, his arms crossing tightly across his chest. “Perhaps that is what you have been doing lately?” His voice nearly wobbled.
“Perhaps,” Archie agreed, his own voice none too steady. He swallowed hard. “At… at the bridge, I thought I’d lost you.”
“In Spain…and after we came back when you were…” Horatio bit his lip, expression pained. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Does that make us even, then?” Archie’s chuckle was slightly choked, Horatio’s small smile rather lopsided. “I’m sorry I’m a fool.”
“You’re not a fool,” Horatio insisted automatically.
But Archie shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “I am. And it’s no wonder that you all are tired of me.”
Horatio looked briefly puzzled at the ‘all’, but for once knew better than to question. “I could never tire of you.” Archie began to protest, but Horatio refused to allow him to break in. “Never. I…” and here, he did pause, struggling with the words, “I’d just like to have you back.”
Archie’s heart clenched at those words, a choked sound escaping from his throat unbidden, and then he flew into Horatio’s arms, head burrowing briefly against his shoulder as Horatio, startled, just barely caught him. “Archie?” his friend’s voice was kind but perplexed.
Realizing what he had done, Archie flushed deeply and pulled back, meeting his gaze for a long moment. “Nothing – sorry. I’m all right now.” As Horatio looked back at him worriedly, Archie heard himself adding, “Really this time – and I… I’m going to try.” There was a pause. “But do you mind staying for a little tonight?”
They talked that night for longer than they had since the lonely nights in El Ferrol. Archie felt as if a fountain had been turned out – words tumbled cleanly and clearly from his mouth. They spoke of Muzillac, of foolishness, of joy, of pain, of friendship. Neither of them was brave enough to say, perhaps, all the words that should have been said, but there were enough.
And Archie laughed without having to forget.
Epilogue.
It had never been unusual for the places Daniel frequented to have three or four young officers there on leave – it was the same in most every decent but inexpensive pub in Portsmouth – but when the peace had been declared about three months previously, the number had at least doubled with midshipmen, lieutenants, and the odd captain who had found themselves out of work and with little to do. Though years had now past, Daniel’s mind began to return to Archie Kennedy – he could not help but hope that one day it would be him who would appear. And even when he could ignore that foolish desire, he could not escape the twinge in his heart that the sight of the uniforms gave him – a twinge of loss and memory, both of things that had been and things that should have been.
The day after the unhappy episode in Daniel’s flat, Archie had written a long letter to Daniel in which is apologized profusely for his behavior, took the blame for the disastrous afternoon, and even somewhat explained the events at Muzillac that had brought him to that state. Daniel wrote back forgivingly, and their correspondence continued as it had been before.
Something had changed, though. Archie enjoyed the letters he received from Cunningham and looked forward to the times they could meet, but no longer with the same hungry abandon. Letters were often not replied with the same swiftness, and after a while, Daniel’s side of the correspondence slowed as well. Without the desperate need to escape, Archie finally had to admit to himself one day as he stared at an unanswered letter from the other man that had sat on his desk for over a week, but without, despite everything, any sort of true closeness or understanding regarding feelings, he just didn’t know what to say.
He had Horatio now, after all.
Not that every fear had been banished the night that he had finally truly spoken to Horatio again. He had woken up in the middle of the night on more than one occasion since, still shaking from the after-image of whatever nightmare he had been trapped in. Before, it had often taken him hours to fall back asleep, if he truly did at all, and he would lie trembling on his cot, praying for his thoughts to be banished. Now, he could imagine Horatio asleep only a short distance away and be easily calmed by the sense of safety it brought him.
Days were even better. True, at first conversations with Horatio had still been awkward, but as time progressed, they fell back into their easy conversation of old, now never plagued by the discomforting past of old.
And besides – the butterflies that swarmed Archie’s stomach when he met Horatio’s gaze had not gone away, and while he was unsure he would ever gain the courage to act on the feeling, he was finally willing to contentedly admit to its cause.
The last letter Daniel received from Archie exuberantly declared that he had been promoted and was being transferred (with Horatio!) to the Renown, no less – a ship captained by one of the Royal Navy’s great heroes. Daniel sent a brief note of congratulations, but was unsurprised when he received no further reply. He could not lie – the close of their relationship disappointed him, but he could not begrudge his former lover the happiness.
Time went by, and Archie Kennedy became part of a wistful past, only coming to the surface now as the sight of blue uniforms became more and more frequent.
But one day proved to be different.
Daniel sat at his normal table near a corner window, contemplating how much longer he could linger there if he wished to get anything useful done that day, when the phrase ‘but on the Renown…’ drifted to him from a nearby table. Startled by the familiarity – wasn’t that the ship Archie had said he would be serving on? – Daniel looked sharply in the direction the words had come from just in time to see the abrupt end of a conversation between two naval officers. One of them rose stiffly and shoved a hat on a curly head of dark hair, glowering at whatever the other had said, and headed for the door. Daniel looked on as the other stared after him, shook his head, and looked about to turn to his drink when he caught Daniel watching him curiously. “Yes?” The man raised an eyebrow after a moment.
“I was just…” But there was no way for him to deny the fact that he had been watching them, and so instead, jumped boldly to the question that had caused him to observe them in the first place. “You didn’t just mention the ship the Renown, did you?”
The last thing Daniel expected was for the man’s face to darken suspiciously as it did at the mention of the ship. “Perhaps… what of it?”
“Do you… did you know Archie Kennedy?”
The man’s expression changed to surprise. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he admitted, a note of incredulousness in his voice. “When he was alive-” But at the startled expression on the other man’s face, he stopped. “Ah, you didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Daniel shook his head slowly and was beckoned over to the other man’s table. “What happened?”
“He was killed in battle,” he admitted quietly. “And then… but the rest is of no consequence.” He shook his head, pausing tensely for a moment. Cunningham almost broke in questioningly, but something in the expression stopped him. “You were a friend of his?” When Daniel nodded, the man smiled slightly. “He was a good man. A bloody mad fool sometimes, and god knows, he could never keep his mouth shut as much as should have, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’d suggest you talk to Mr. Hornblower,” a nod towards the door through which his companion had left, “but it’s a subject he doesn’t… appreciate being broached. They were quite close.”
There was another surprise – that had been the elusive Horatio, then? Daniel managed a small smile after a moment. “Thank you for that, Mr…”
“William Bush. More than welcome, though I wish I had better news.” Daniel nodded with a slight smile, thanked him again, and bade farewell, briefly returning to his table to pay for his drink before finally leaving the pub.
Part of Daniel knew that he did not have the right to be overly surprised – it was the price of war, after all – but it was a lot to think on. He did not go back to his flat, where papers upon papers waited for him, but instead found himself roaming the Portsmouth streets aimlessly. Archie dead… despite the fact that he had doubted they would run into each other again, it was a strange thing to contemplate. He was a hero, no doubt, in the eyes of his friends if not in anyone else’s, if Archie’s charm had remained unchanged or, as Daniel thought more likely, had grown. Daniel had never been quite sure what had turned their relationship from a simple tryst to a fond remembrance, but that damned charm had had something to do with it.
And what of Hornblower, the man he had heard so much about and never seen until now? He does not like the subject broached. What had been between them, then? Did he even have the right to contemplate?
Finally exhausting his quiet melancholy, Cunningham’s thoughts returned to his time with Archie, only a brief episode in the blond’s life, and for that matter, his own, Daniel was sure, but that didn’t stop it from lingering softly in his memory. It was only small things that he now remembered - the way his eyes had twinkled when he laughed, or that his letters would always descend into excited and nearly illegible scrawl if he happened to mention Shakespeare. Somewhere, Daniel remembered, he still had all those letters stored; it was this realization that finally spurned him home, where he retrieved them, and spent the night with memories, finally falling asleep on his bed, surrounded by them and without a stitch of the paperwork he had meant to do complete.
The next day, Daniel Cunningham wore black, and at dawn, went to the dockside to stare out over the ships and, with a toss of his hat into the sea – it floated briefly before sinking, bobbing with surprising cheerfulness and determination for an article that was meant to be somber - bade his final farewell to exuberant, melancholy, and mad Archie Kennedy.