Chapter Text
The days that follow are a blur.
Rise from bed at six (not wake up, Horatio doesn’t sleep, he falls into small periods of unconsciousness and awakens himself sporadically) get ready for the day, and eat whatever he can afford on meagre half pay. Stale bread was his ration of choice this week, as rent was long overdue and honestly, he was still clinging on to his last few worldly possessions before he makes his next trip to the pawn shop.
Not really noticing what he does, Hornblower tends to spend the majority of the day walking along the port, looking pensively across the channel, as though searching for an answer to what he saw.
He rationalises it, naturally, telling himself that Archie lingers on his mind due to the injustice of losing a friend in such a cruel way. Of course he will think about him, now and then, which combined with his unease of having nothing to do, and lack of sleep, it’s no surprise that he ‘saw’ him.
But he looked so real.
He really tries not to linger on it, especially when he goes to play whist with Pellew a couple days later. He enjoys the comfort of a familiar face, especially one that has been so forgiving when others have not, but his involvement in Kingston makes Horatio’s smile strained and his back more rigid than usual.
And if Pellew notices the bags under his eyes, he doesn’t comment on it. Hornblower takes his wins and leaves with enough to make up his rent. His compass stays in his possession another day.
Though he dislikes his current situation, his day to day misgivings are not what disturb him.
It’s the nights when there is no escape.
Archie is always there. He appears in his same corner, around the time when Horatio’s state of consciousness is just at the edge of drifting off. His face not a second older than when that fateful day took him away. He shouldn’t be able to make out every fold of his clothing, every wrinkle of his skin, every stain of sickly scarlet. He knows this is a delusion of his ailing mind, mirroring his restlessness at being in Portsmouth for far too long. Yet Hornblower can’t help but ponder why his brain remembers so intricately every inch of Archie.
He puts up with it for a while. He can’t really do much about Archie, since he’s only in his head, other than try to think about more positive aspects of his life and stop being caught up in the past. Additionally, it’s not like Archie follows him around or talks to Horatio, he just stands there, in his bloody corner, just watching him. And even then, it’s only in these fleeting moments he’s deceived into believing there might actually be some substance to the figure before him, that his friend really is observing him like some unnerving guardian angel.
By day three of Kennedy’s ‘haunting’, he’s officially had enough.
Maria has to remind him to properly dress himself before he does his daily stroll to the port. He forgets to eat his breakfast, count the money he still needs for rent, and even to check his compass is still with him. Horatio barely manages to not fall down the stairs as he leaves, and even fails to realise that Maria had been speaking to him the entire time, until there’s an unnatural pause in her speech.
“Mr Hornblower…?”
That snaps Horatio out of his head.
“Yes, Maria?”
She grimaces. Obviously she had been talking to him for quite a bit before he realised. She’s a lovely person, really considerate, and he can tell she feels some sort of attachment to him, contrary to her mother’s disgruntlement towards him as a tenant. Horatio appreciates their lighthearted conversations every now and then, it breaks up the days when he barely speaks to people at all. He also appreciates that soon he should make an effort to marry someone, when he is off half pay of course, but Horatio can’t bear to move to a new step in his life without Archie also doing the same. In that way, he will always be trapped in Kingston.
“I was wondering how you are sleeping these days? Sorry if this is out of turn, but you do seem a little worse for ware.”
Now it’s Hornblower’s turn to grimace. Of course this would catch up to him. Archie’s eternal torture was slowly dragging him to the other side, ebbing a way at his will and strength.
“I’m fine, thank you. I’ve only had a slight problem sleeping, but of course who wouldn’t with the recent weather?”
Hornblower prayed she would let him off with that, and not query wether a lieutenant in his majesty’s Royal Navy would be put off sleep by a spot of bad weather.
But she did, surprisingly, adding “ah I see. I’ve had difficulty sleeping too I’m afraid. That storm just will not end, will it?”
With a (im)polite hum in reply, Hornblower makes an exit out into the street, leaving a bewildered and slightly hurt Maria. He cannot keep this up. He cannot continue to be haunted by Archie and let his life fall into ruin because of him. Archie wouldn’t want him live like this, he’d want him to succeed and not get caught up in the past. He can almost sense his friend’s indignation that Horatio isn’t making better use of the sacrifice he made.
Storming to the port in equally turbulent weather, he starts to plan how he will stop this madness. If Archie is a figment of his imagination when he gazes upon him in that corner, all Hornblower will need to do is force himself to properly awaken once he appears, then his mind will be at rest and understand that Archie is permanently gone. With no uncertainties about Archie’s death, there will be no lingering hope that he’s still out there, still conscious in some way. Hornblower will sleep soundly again, Maria won’t worry about him as much, and he will be able to look to the future once more.
After hours of pacing about Portsmouth, and calming down his frantic mind, Hornblower returns to his residence. Maria is no longer around, which he is both grateful for and embarrassed about. He would have to apologise for his rudeness another day. With many hours left until the evening, he decides to sit on his bed and read a copy of ‘The Gazette’ that she had lent him some days earlier, willing the sun to set quicker.
~
For the first time in 3 days, Horatio actually starts to drift off naturally. When he finally looks to the corner, as he’s about to sleep, Kennedy appears as always, pensive and observing. With a sudden jolt, Horatio sits up and rushes to him, hand reaching for his arm.Its foolish, he thinks, to attempt to cling to a memory of the man. He expects absence, hurt and peace of mind, but what Horatio does meet, is the rough fabric of a naval Jacket.