simplestgift | Seventeen Bells: [WRITTEN/ACTION]

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Seventeen Bells: [WRITTEN/ACTION]

On July the 4th, 1776, one Horatio Hornblower was born in Kent. If you see him, bid him many happy returns. He will most likely grump about it all day and act ungrateful, but don't allow it to discourage you. He does appreciate it, he simply does not know it.

[For most of the day, Archie will be running around trying to furnish a bedroom in the house for a new housemate. He'll end up in the library, Good Spirits, the grocery store, then finally the Battle Dome, mostly staring in bewilderment at the controls before deciding this is too scary and leaving. At some point, he'll also take a walk in the woods, rain or no rain, in shirtsleeves and waistcoat but no coat. After a while, he'll get back on the journals.]

[Filtered away from Grell, 44%]

If you wanted to surprise someone dear to you, to cheer her up when she returned from being kidnapped, what would you do for her?

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You wish you could what?

[there's a wary edge. She's so tired of these secrets and how they always seem to end in people getting hurt]

Hurt him worse, sometimes. Teach him for his stupidity.

[a small smile] Do you think it would make a difference?

Not likely, Jilly. I kidnapped him, for God's sake.

So I heard. From Jack.

[it's a mild reprimand, but a reprimand nonetheless. Still, it doesnt' last]

You can't spend every waking moment looking out for him, Archie. Just like he can't constantly protect you.

Trying is only going to get you both hurt.

[obviously]

I wish I could tell you, Jilly. I do. You would understand if you knew.

[Grell had sworn them to secrecy in order to keep the peace, after Archie's stabbing. She'd agreed with Jack, then, content to do so if it meant ending this. And now Horatio was hurt, with only "it's settled" to say for it.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together, and she didn't dare push. Not if it would risk more]

I know. I trust you.

I just...wish it wasn't necessary.

It isn't. Very little is necessary. Or I should say, unnecessary things cause certain actions to become necessary.

...I'm here. Just... know that much.

...Did I ever tell you why I did what I did for him?

...to save his life?

[but it's tentative. She can guess he means more, just from the way he presented the question]

[A soft laugh.] Of course. But...I remember speaking with you of second chances, Jilly, and how he gave me mine. I wonder if you shouldn't know the entire story. You might gain some understanding of him from it.

I'm happy to listen, Archie. Always. But you know you don't have to.

[it wasn't an attempt to stop him. Just a reassurance. She wouldn't pressure him]

No, I...I think this feels right, somehow. [There is an odd lightness to his voice, as if he's surprised that this doesn't scare him too badly.] Come to the house. I'll have wine, or chocolate if you prefer.

Wine and chocolate sound fine.

I'll be there in a few minutes.

[and, soon enough, she'll be knocking lightly on the door of their new house]

[He lets her in, looking fairly neutral, having poured a couple glasses of wine that are sitting on the coffee table. There's also some leftover cold cuts of meat and bread, in case she's hungry. Sorry, eighteenth-century diet.]

It's good of you to come.

[the formality of it gets a small smile, but there's enough weight in the invitation that she can't bring herself to tease.]

Of course I came.

[He meant it. But it gets a smile. He sits on the couch and gestures at the wine and food.] I may also have cheese, somewhere.

This is perfect.

A search party can always be sent later if we need it.

[she glances around, but she isn't really surprised to see Horatio gone. Not for this particular conversation. Crossing from the threshold, she'll move to join Archie on the couch and pick up one of the glasses of wine, though she makes no move to drink yet]

[He, however, takes a sip. And makes a disclaimer.]

If you want to ask questions, you may, and you don't have to wait for the end. Though I suppose I have to go back to when I first joined the navy. I'll try to keep it brief.

You know I joined because of my grandfather, of course. And for the first few years, running powder was very exciting. I liked living on a ship very much, as a boy. It wasn't always so terrible. Horatio joined much later, of course--in '93, after I'd been a midshipman for two years. So we did not even meet until I was sixteen. When I was rated midshipman, I was transferred to the Justinian, and a few months later, so was another man. His name was Simpson, and he... [A deep breath.] You should understand that the midshipman's berth on every ship is a den of lions. Seniority means little there, so someone bullies his way into high standing and lords it over the others. I want you to take my full meaning when I tell you Simpson, even in comparison with other men like that, was a monster.

[any laughter that had been in her eyes before was gone now.

She nodded once, at his permission, but she makes no move to ask questions. She doesn't ask for clarification. She doesn't look doubtfully at him when he describes Simpson. There's an understanding there.

What he did doesn't matter. She knows the type too well to disbelieve]

[He takes a deep breath.]

And I was his favorite. [He stops for a second, not quite sure how on Earth one can elaborate on that.] He...didn't like anyone who was younger, or brighter, or more popular. He was...creative, in some ways, but not in others. He had something he called "the proceedings of the inquisition." He'd beat your entire story out of you, till he had something he could use against you. I...hadn't done anything I was ashamed of, when I was fourteen. I sometimes think I should have lied to him just so he would stop, but if he'd ever found out it would've made it worse. And... [A slight, helpless widening of his eyes.] He had nothing. Nothing he could hold over me and make him do his bidding, not from a boy of fourteen. I suppose he...took matters into his own hands, then.

[Another pause, as if considering whether or not to elaborate. Then he lets out a breath, giving her a glance, trying to determine from her face.]

[What do you do to shame a boy of fourteen? There might have been any number of things to fill that gap. A different time... a military setting... maybe a beating would have been enough. But she knows that pain. She knows that shame, unbidden and undeserved, for a crime they didn't commit.

He hasn't confirmed it, but she doesn't ask him to. It's the worst thing she can imagine, and it's what she thinks she sees in his eyes. "It was a long time before anyone could look at me like I was an officer."

If she asks, he could deny it. But part of her already knows what his answer would be...and she can't bear to make him say when there's no need.]

I'm sorry.

[so soft. It's not pity. To pity him is to pity herself, and she doesn't do that either. But there is pain. And a deeper understanding than either of them should have had.]

[Then understands already.

It was easier to tell her than Dawn. If he had to say why, he might try to say it's because he knows, for certain, that Jilly will never judge him for something like this. But if he really thought about it, he might say that it's because he's now told this story to three people who've then made it into his list of "completely trusted." The more he tells, the less difficult it is, although it is not easy. Her soft statement causes him to bob his head in acknowledgment, but he can't say anything to it. Not at this moment. He can feel the vibrations beginning in his bones, not yet visible as shaking, but likely to get there.]

I, ah. [He takes another drink of wine.] I told one of the lieutenants what was happening, and he laughed. He said that I was lying, and if I was not, and I was not able to...to handle it, then I was not fit to be in the navy. So I...I gave up. Everyone had given up by then. A-and it continued, until...until I was sixteen. [She doesn't need the details--Simpson being transferred for his acting-lieutenancy, then coming back a few months later after failing his examination. That isn't necessary.] Horatio came aboard, then, and we were friends almost immediately. Simpson...took to beating him more than the rest of us, though he never--he didn't. With... [Okay, this got so awkward just now, and he sets down his wine and clasps his hands to keep them from shaking.] Horatio challenged him to a duel. Just so he could have an excuse to kill him legally. And-and one of the older midshipmen, he used to try and look after us, when he could. He knocked Horatio over the head and fought in his stead, and died that way. It's...not a story I'll tell, but it's important you know Horatio tried to bring this man to justice and failed.

One night we were commanding the jolly boat of a cutting-out expedition, and I was...I was ill, I suppose you might say. [Telling her about the fits is too much for one night. She knows how bad it was without it.] I was lying asleep in the jolly boat and when I woke up, I was adrift, with no one in sight.

Edited 2011-07-06 06:53 (UTC)

[She hasn't touched her wine, and she doesn't start now. Rather, when his shaking starts, she carefully sets the glass aside and tentatively leans forward, reaching out. Her hand hovers near his, but not on it. Not actually touching. She looks to him for permission, first, because they both understood. It wasn't something you took for granted.

When he doesn't pull away or shake his head to move her she places her smaller hand over his, holding tight as if she could calm the tremors that way. She knows she can't...but it's all she can do.

She can almost picture them, young and angry and hurt and broken against a system that gave them no way out. A century between them and her, and it breaks her heart that, somehow, the story stays the same. And she can see the threads reaching out to today, the filaments stretching through the years, wrapping themselves around Grell and Jack and Luceti until they were tangled up in them again.

He doesn't have to explain the connection. It's as good as spelled out, in her mind.

When he speaks of being adrift, though, the connections become less clear. This was less familiar territory, and all she can do is nod for him to continue, a small chill settling in her stomach]

Edited 2011-07-06 06:57 (UTC)

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