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The varying shore o' th' world 1
Title: The varying shore o' th' world 1/?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Apollo/Hornblower
Summary: A fearsome new fighting combination takes shape in Portsmouth. *g* This is a continuation from the original crossover and begins with a re-worked version of that story. It's a collaborative effort with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calavarna who has worked like a Trojan on it. Thanks to mzcalypso for the beta and encouragement.
No claim made on or profit made from these characters.
The varying shore o' th' world 1
Horatio could not face going back to his lodgings - he needed a stiff drink, or perhaps three, before he could clamber up to bed and risk dreaming again. Last night he had spent a fitful time, tossing and turning and dreaming of Archie as usual. Vivid dreams, that had continued to haunt him all day, making Portsmouth seem entirely populated by Kennedys, each one of them an illusion - just men who bore a fleeting resemblance in colour or build. Perhaps when Horatio awoke next morning everyone would bear the mask of his lover's face, even Mrs Mason and her daughter - and Hornblower would be driven mad and have to find a desert island or a convenient pistol with just one bullet. That was another good reason to postpone sleep.
He found a small tavern near Spice Island, purchased a pint, sat down. There was only one other occupant of the long table which Hornblower had chosen for its relative privacy - a youngish man, one who appeared to be talking to himself on and off and who inevitably, in keeping with this disturbing day, reminded him of Archie. Except on closer inspection this man really did look like Kennedy, albeit an older version - into his thirties perhaps - more rugged, less whimsical, bearing the marks of battle and hard times across his face. But it was still a ridiculously handsome visage, the characteristic little, child's nose and bright blue eyes - Horatio could not help but stare at him, eyes drawn again and again to the image of the one he had loved so very much.
"Can I help you?" The man spoke, a hint of belligerence in his voice indicating that he had noticed he was being watched and did not like it.
"I'm sorry, it was very rude of me to stare; I hope that you will pardon the intrusion. You bear an extraordinary likeness to a friend of mine, one who is now dead. I could not help..." Words failed Hornblower; it had been a frustrating and puzzling day, with him inhabiting some sort of half dream world and now he felt tired, lonely, hopeless.
Kennedy's double smiled - a rueful, tired smile. "There's no need to apologise then. I know what it's like to lose someone close." He drained his glass, looked at it, turned to Horatio, "I'm getting myself another, can I treat you?"
Hornblower nodded and the man went off to the bar, leaving the lieutenant to consider his new acquaintance. The accent spoke of foreign climes - perhaps the Americas or one of the colonies. There were plenty of men from the other side of the world who had entered His Majesty's service either willingly or through the press; this chap could well be a naval officer or one of the many merchant seamen who traded their wares here. His clothes certainly looked like they had once been fine broadcloth and his demeanour spoke of time in the service. When he returned, he took a seat facing Horatio and raised his tankard. "To departed friends."
"Departed friends indeed." Hornblower drank deeply, contemplating this apparition over the rim of his vessel. His hair seemed exceedingly short for a gentleman, the cut of it unlike anything that Hornblower could remember seeing outside of a bunch of renegades who had been taken from prison to serve on Justinian. And there was a look in the man's eyes that suggested that he had lost his direction in life.
"Do you have a name, sir?" the question came quite unexpectedly.
"Hornblower, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower, once of His Majesty's Navy but now cast up on the beach." The bitterness in his own voice surprised him - he did not usually speak to anyone with such candour, had not done so since his confidante had left him. This strange foreign officer, if that's what he was, must have made him feel at ease again and free to talk openly. "And you?" he hastily added, remembering his manners.
"Captain Lee Adama, like yourself currently without a ship."
"What was your last command?"
Adama smiled. "The last ship I served on wasn't mycommand."
Hornblower nodded his understanding - a flagship then perhaps?
"She was called Galactica."
At this Horatio looked blank; not a vessel he had come across, possibly one of the ships of the line being rolled out by the Americans as they sought to secure their position on the Western coasts of the Atlantic. Or a vessel captured off Cape Horn and renamed by the Spanish. "From what we might call the far side of the world perhaps?" He smiled, the beer and this man's fascinating presence putting him at ease.
"I guess you could say that." the captain grinned. He was strangely taken with this stiff young officer and found himself relaxing for the first time in weeks.
"So how do you find yourself here?"
Hell, there was a question - one Adama could hardly begin to answer. What would terms like Cylons, Battlestars, wormholes, rips in the space-time continuum mean to a sailor of the 1800's, when not even heavier-than-air flight had been discovered? But reply had to be given or his own precarious position might be risked. "My ship was attacked," so far so good, his companion could understand things if he kept it in those terms. It would also enable him to keep as near the truth as possible.
"Pirates?"
Adama nodded - it was not a bad description. "We were driven into uncharted waters, lost our bearings." The computers went out like lights but you'd never begin to comprehend that. "I took some of my men," generic term for the species, it would do, "in smaller vessels to lead an assault." Horatio thought of a surprise boarding raid and nodded, "but we were ourselves attacked. I alone made it here - the rest of my crew were lost - I found myself adrift off some hell hole of a place, back of beyond. I've no idea what happened to my ship."
"Perhaps she overcame her assailants and has gone home to refit. She will find you again I hope." Hornblower looked kindly at his companion, another lost soul like himself.
"Me too," Adama raised his glass in salute to Galactica but he had little optimism on his face.
"So you made your way here?"
"I did - I was lucky enough to be picked out the water by one of your nobility I guess you would call them. Eccentric old guy, had his own private vessel to patrol the western shores. He helped me on my way." A way that Adama was not willing to describe, past the point where milord had begun to suspect that he was a Napoleonic spy and Lee had been forced to escape with the aid of some pistols acquired from his host - and they were the frakking end to load. It had been feral living then, making his way by what he could nick or barter. He'd been fortunate enough early on to come across a collector of curiosities who had paid him a handsome price for his flying suit. Perhaps it was the unusual materials that had made him so generous - perhaps it was the fact that Adama had let the man help him out of the uniform and had not minded the liberties he took in the process. The captain had been able to use the money to get a set of clothes that would not draw attention to himself and to find a bed each night and provision for his stomach.
"And what are your plans now?"
"I've no fr... bloody idea. Get a ship. Find a job. Survive. It's what you do."
"It is indeed." Hornblower's eyes filled with tears. Surviving - that's what he'd been doing since Kingston. Not living really, just doing whatever had to be done to keep body and soul together till the next noon's observance, which is how he marked his days.
Adama noticed the tears, pretended not to, seemed to make up his mind about something. "You wouldn't know where I can find a bed for the night, would you? Haven't fixed myself up yet and it's getting late. Been a tiring few days."
A bold streak remerged in Horatio, one that had been dulled by the months of heartbreak and disappointment. "My landlady would not mind if we shared, providing she could make a profit from it. As long as you would not mind sharing a bed..." He fixed his eyes on his now empty glass and hoped - almost as hard as he had hoped for Archie to survive both the bullet and the gallows - that this man would say yes.
"That seems to be pretty much the norm here for officers down on their luck," if he saw the slight look of offence in Horatio's eye, Adama ignored that too; he could tell how the land lay. "Suits me." He finished his drink, stood up and indicated that they should go.
They walked back to Hornblower's lodgings in comparative silence, Horatio only talking briefly to point out where they were in relation to some of Portsmouth's more notable places; his mind was racing. Why had he been so bold? What had he hoped to achieve - some frantic coupling with a stranger whom he could make believe was Kennedy? There was not even the slightest indication that an advance would be welcomed. Perhaps he could just look at that lovely face and pretend that it was his Archie he saw as he went to sleep and his Archie still there when he awoke. Maybe he could just stay the night awake and watch Adama slumbering; the rain had cleared and the moon was full, there would be enough light through his window. He could observe and simply enjoy the experience.
They reached the house, squared things away with Mrs Mason - she seemed very taken with the foreign officer - and went up to the room, whose meagre state confirmed Adama in all his suppositions. Hornblower was definitely an officer who, however proud and well spoken he might be, had seen better days and was not content in his present condition. The captain was touched by strong emotions - pity, sympathy, desire, lust. As the door closed behind them, leaving just the moonlight for illumination, he suddenly clasped Hornblower's arm and drew him closer, as if to speak confidentially. "Did he share your bed? This friend of yours you miss so much?"
Horatio could not answer coherently; he simply nodded.
"Want to pretend that I'm him?"
Hornblower swallowed hard, looked Adama straight in the eye. "I've wanted that ever since I saw you in the tavern. But you need to understand - we did not just use the bed for sleeping." Better to be clear from the start; no point in raising expectations and finding it was just friendship offered.
The captain smiled. "I didn't think for one minute you did. Not if you looked at him like you've been looking at me. Not if he held you and felt what I do now." He leaned closer, face almost touching Horatio's, breath as sweet and beer laden as Archie's had been on many an occasion. When he was this close, blue eyes boring into Horatio's, the lieutenant could easily believe that this was his erstwhile lover - there was even a little scar on his left cheek that might well have been the double of the one that Kennedy bore. It was more than flesh and blood could stand.
They kissed - it felt absurdly good. Adama nudged Hornblower's nose with his, brushed his mouth with his lips again, just as Archie used to do; kiss after kiss interspersed with little nudges and touches - face on face, lips on lips. The tears started to flow down Horatio's cheeks - they were caressed away with strong, rough hands, hands that then ran through his hair and held his head firm. "If it’s not right don't do it. Just tell me. I'll go."
Hornblower shook his head, "Don't go, not now. Just call me by my name and kiss me once more."
"OK Horatio. We'll do just that." He kissed Hornblower again, much more passionately this time, then pulled back. "What was his name?"
"Archie. Archie Kennedy. He gave his life so that I could live and I wish now that it was me dead and him here laughing with you."
"He'd have laughed, would he? Stuck in this frakking place like we are?"
Hornblower winced at the strange vocabulary, then smiled ruefully. "He'd have slapped your back and found you a bottle and a meal. He'd have somehow contrived for you to drink the tavern dry and rolled you home fit to burst with laughter. And the night - Captain Adama, you have not the first idea of what the night would have been like."
"Show me." Blue eyes burned deep with a strange mixture of hopelessness and longing. "Horatio, I'm as lost as you are. Maybe you can't take pity on yourself. Pity me."
Hornblower leaned down, nuzzled into Adama's neck. "I'll pretend twice over then. Pretend this is for your benefit." He gently saluted the captain's ear, sighed. "I've missed you so much, Archie."
"Course you have Horatio. Been a while." He tugged at Hornblower's waistcoat buttons - frakking ridiculous things to truss yourself up in, these clothes.
Horatio smiled. "You always were hopeless with buttons, Archie. Allow me." Adama let him; let him undo every button the pair of them possessed. Let him do whatever he liked. Didn't even mind that Hornblower kept murmuring I love you Archie, don't leave me again. Lay back. Thought of Galactica. Didn't think at all. Coupled. Tried to work out what the hell he was going to do in the morning. Coupled once more.
The moon shone more brightly than either man had ever known it - Adama felt torn between homesickness and the desire to travel these strictly terrestrial oceans with his new friend, a man he was - for no logical reason - sure would never betray him; who had seen enough of sacrifice not to demand it of another man.
Horatio looked at the moon and wondered if a special angel had been given charge of it, an angel too mischievous to be trusted with anything else and who was shining down his authorization on this congress. He upbraided himself for such sentimentality.
They fell into an easy sleep, Adama dreaming that he was on a ship, naval uniform just like those he had seen on his travels, hair long and bound up in a pigtail, wind in his face, pistol in his belt that took a frakking age to load.
Horatio dreamed as he had never done before; his own command - that was nothing new - Archie at his side - neither was that - but this ship sailed among the stars and that was something he had never even contemplated.
***
It was to be, Horatio decided, a most frustrating day. All he wanted was a few moments of quiet in which he could contemplate the previous day’s occurrences but Mrs Mason, who had taken quite a shine to the new officer under her roof, would not let him be. Every few minutes her footsteps could be heard climbing the narrow stairs, stopping just outside the door as if to listen for any sign of impropriety on Hornblower’s behalf towards Captain Adama. She would be scandalised, of course, if she knew just how far they had stretched the bounds of propriety last night, although she needn’t currently worry; Adama had surfaced early and could be half way across the country by now for all Horatio knew.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the captain; it was possible this double of Archie could win Horatio’s affections in his own right, but pure base instinct told Horatio that there was far more to Captain Lee Adama than had been revealed last night. The very fact that Adama had departed without notice set Horatio on edge, for two vastly different reasons. Firstly, he held no respect for those who engaged in promiscuous behaviour; secondly, he could not bear to lose another lover so soon after finding a modicum of happiness.
The sound of footsteps traipsing down the hallway broke his train of thought. He crept silently towards the door intent on catching Mrs Mason, and was met with a great deal of pain as the solid panel of wood connected soundly with his face. His eyes immediately filled with tears, and he felt rather than saw a hand reach out to guide him to the dishevelled bed. Lee had returned and was bearing both gifts and a grin.
"Sorry, Horatio. Had no idea you were playing hide and seek behind the door."
Hornblower bridled, not just at the harsh insult. This man had an interesting vocabulary. "I was not lurking there if that's what you mean. I was on my way out to find my breakfast."
"Well it's found you." Adama laid a parcel on the bed, a package from which a wonderful smell arose.
"Sausages?" Hornblower's nose twitched excitedly - it was a long time since he had breakfasted on more than bread and a thin excuse for coffee. "And what," he almost dare not ask the question, "is in that pot?"
"Coffee - for us to drink our fill of, long as we return it and the mugs to the owner. Nice old girl." He began to pour and the marvellous aroma filled the room. "The old girl downstairs won’t disturb us either - I said you were hungover."
"Thank you, now she'll think even worse of me than she already does." Horatio had convinced himself that his new friend would not return - finding himself proven so very wrong and being bashed on one of the parts of his physiognomy of which he was particularly mindful had made him belligerent. Pride had suffered twice over and was reasserting itself.
"What'd she think if she came in and saw this?" They both eyed the dishevelled sheets with a hint of unease.
"You are quite right sir. I apologise." Horatio concentrated on his cup of coffee, trying hard to hide the burning on his cheeks.
"Forget it - eat. Anyway, you wanted me to pretend I was him," Adama broke the awkward silence, "or you did last night, so I thought I'd carry on this morning. Guess he'd have brought you a feast for a king, but this was my best."
"It's a feast for me," Hornblower felt no need any longer to pretend about his penurious state, not with this man. He was curious as to where and how Lee had been able to rustle up such a meal at short notice, especially to the extent of being allowed to borrow crockery that could have been taken and pawned by some unscrupulous soul. He knew officers on the beach like him who were not above such things. In the circumstances, Kennedy would have charmed the birds from the trees with a smile or a mention of his aristocratic father; Horatio dreaded to think how Adama had done it. Probably none too differently. An accent that spoke of a distant colony and bright blue eyes which reflected honesty could make for a devastation combination if unleashed on a properly receptive audience.
Horatio tore furiously into one of the sausages, washing it down with several large swallows of the scalding hot coffee, and repeating the process. After eating his fill, he leaned forward from his perch on the bed and studied Adama with narrowed eyes. “How long have you served your country?”
“Since I was twenty-one. I went straight from College to-” Frak, 19th century Earth didn’t’t have an equivalent of Flight School and wouldn’t for another couple of centuries as far as Galactica’s CAG could tell. “To basic military training. I think my father might have pulled a few strings to make sure I received a decent posting. He’s Galactica’s commander.”
“You were transferred to his ship then?” Horatio lightly drummed long fingers against the hard mattress, anxious to hear more.
“Not really. I was only supposed to attend Galactica’s decommissioning ceremony,” but we were attacked by frakking toasters, “but after the…pirates attacked there was no way for me to return to my ship. I had no choice but to remain on Galactica and serve under Commander Adama.” Lee sighed heavily. As much as his relationship with his father had developed in the months after the initial Cylon attack, there were still lingering tensions. He supposed he would never get a chance to rectify that now.
Horatio’s brow furrowed at the explanation. “You outrank your father?”
“No, of course not. Like I said, my father is Galactica’s commander.” Adama had a sneaking suspicion that he had committed a horrible gaffe in front of the clever young man and made a hasty effort to conceal his unease by changing the subject. “You never told me how long you and Archie had known each other.”
“Eight years. Almost exactly.” Distracted by a problem that was, for now, just beyond his ability to solve, Horatio ignored the familiar jolt of pain he felt at the mention of his lost lover and pressed on with his interrogation. “You introduced yourself as Captain Lee Adama. A captain outranks a commander, you must know that.”
Lee licked his lips nervously. Of all the things he’d avoided explaining, he just had to be caught out by something so simple. Best stick with a modified version of the truth. “Not in my service. A commander ranks higher than captain. At least they do on the far side of the world.” Never mind that he hadn’t quite figured out where the far side of the world was.
"But do you not have admirals like us?" Horatio could not clarify in his brain how this foreign navy, one he had assumed to be so like his own, worked. He also realised that he still didn't know exactly which country they were talking about.
"We do - commander just means he's a sort of senior captain," Adama laughed, trying to hide his nerves. "Funny the different names we use for things - like your snotties - that's a helluva name for a rank."
Horatio bridled at the reminder of the tag that Simpson had taunted him with. "It's a nickname for midshipmen, rather a crude one. I believe it comes from their alleged habit of wiping their noses on their sleeves; hence the buttons you can find sewn on their cuffs to put them off."
Adama laughed. "Little boys are gross." He was pleased to have overcome the awkward moment, at least temporarily - and pleased that he'd picked up enough slang on his travels to be able to present some sort of coherent tale; but he was going to have to avoid making such simple errors. In truth he had found out an awful lot while aboard the ship that had rescued him, a ship appearing against all hope when he was near to death in the freezing Scottish waters. They'd been out a further two weeks before coming to shore and during that time Lee had watched everything and learned as much as he could.
They'd fitted him out with some old masters' mates clothes the crew had acquired somewhere - that's where he'd first heard the term snotty, as in looks like an overgrown snotty whose mum's cut his hair. He'd been given free run of the ship - this all being prior to milord's suspicions about his provenance - mixing with officers and men alike, and quite literally learning the ropes. He'd proved a quick pupil, watching the daily gun drills that the ship's owner insisted on and soon getting the hang of what was required; he'd even been allowed to lead one of the teams in the final days of their voyage. If only he could turn the conversation to gunnery, he might be able to distract Hornblower until he had his own story watertight enough to pass such expert scrutiny. Or, he thought suddenly, he could distract the lieutenant in other ways.
Stretching out on the bed, he doffed his waistcoat and allowed the neck of his shirt to fall open. Hornblower was suitably distracted by the show of flesh, judging by the way he gripped his coffee mug, knuckles white, body tense. Filing that trick away as one to be used for diversionary purposes, Lee sat up, remembering some important details he had overheard.
"Breakfast wasn't all I picked up." Adama had a conspiratorial look on his open, handsome - Hornblower could not get over how handsome - face. "There were two men in the tavern - one trying desperately to sober up the other. Think they'd been celebrating some good news and overdid it. Frakking out of it this guy was." He saw Horatio wince and realised that here was one word he could perhaps lose from his vocabulary. "They were talking a bit too loud; typical when you've overdone it - seems they were going for interview for a post on a ship at two o'clock today. If they get sober in time."
"Then they should count themselves fortunate," Horatio reflected ruefully on his own shipless state and the small likelihood of finding a berth anywhere, now that England was at peace.
"I guess they did and that's why the guy got sauced. Anyhow, it seems from what I heard that some privateer needs to man his ship and wants the best of His Majesty's ex-officers he can get his hands on. Gonna be pretty competitive to get on board; that's why the one without the hangover needed his friend to get clear-headed."
Horatio looked puzzled. "And why should another man's berth or the losing of it interest us?"
"Because I reckon if we get down to the hard at one o'clock we could have found ourselves a job before anyone else does." Adama grinned eagerly. “Besides, I doubt you’ll last much longer without a decent income. Wouldn’t want you to waste away to a shadow.”
He looked so much like Archie for a moment that Horatio had to chastise himself severely for confusing the two. The plan was certainly something Archie could have devised. He would have guaranteed his berth then gone back to the tavern and bought the other two men a beer, bold as brass. His resulting happiness would have been less because of their return to sea and more due to an escape from idleness; Horatio rather suspected Adama felt the same way.
“Is that fair?” All thoughts of money aside, it seemed immoral to cheat honest men out of their livelihood. Ethics were of little consequence while at war – when lives were at stake and the only thing that lay between life and death was the chance that false colours might buy some time – but while on land they were all in the same position. Poor, uncertain, miserable.
“Have you ever felt as if you have to do something, regardless of the consequences? This is no different. We can either take this opportunity that’s been presented to us or we can remain here in your meagre lodgings, wretched and penniless.”
Horatio thought of Captain Sawyer, and how he had forced the issue of Sawyer’s ability to command, and nodded. “You’re right.”
Adama breathed a silent sigh of relief. Horatio’s concerns mirrored his own, and he felt as if his conscience had been dealt a harsh blow, but the chance they’d been presented with was too good to pass over. It was almost as if the Lords of Kobol were looking out for him, and if conscience was the price he must pay, then so be it.
The water of Portsmouth harbour sparkled in the sunshine; a slight haze hung above the point and over to Haslar - a haze the colour of Archie's eyes, which Hornblower took as a good omen. Same colour as Adama's eyes, too. The Hard was its usual buzz of activity, but they soon located their man, Lee having overheard that he would be found with a small marmoset on his shoulder, standing beside three barrels. This added a level of intrigue to the situation that simply piqued Horatio's interest. They had agreed in advance to keep Adama's rank a secret - someone might not want another captain on their ship; instances of mutiny and usurpation were too recent to have gone from people's minds. Two mere lieutenants might be just the privateer's requirement.
And the matter of the foreign navy needed to be handled with subtlety, too. Lee had tentatively suggested he could say he was from a merchant ship - Horatio had already accepted his explanation that he bore no papers because of the wrecking of his vessel; an unknown captain might not be so trusting and would want some sort of guarantee of his provenance. They would have to play it by ear.
They reported, saluted, gave their names. Mr Warne eyed them up and down with a hint of distain, noting the slight shabbiness of the uniform, but at least one of the two names had rung a distinct bell with him. He knew of Hornblower's exploits on the Indefatigable and in the West Indies; that sort of tale of derring-do got spread very quickly. As did the story of a certain fourth lieutenant's mutinous behaviour. The captain of the Hambledon would have shaken off Hornblower's hand and sealed the matter there and then, had he not entertained the thought that perhaps more than one man had been involved in the shenanigans on Renown. On the other hand, he was likely to prove a bloody good man to have at your side in a tight corner - cunning and lucky with it - and such quality might not turn up again this day.
"I'll give you a trial - taking the crew out for a few days to test out the refitting. I'll know by the end of that." He shook Horatio's hand and went back to looking over some experienced hands who had come to try their luck.
"Excuse me," Hornblower interjected, "What about Mr Adama? Is he to be taken on too?"
Warne looked at the pair again. "Not come across many foreign sailors - heard they filled their ships with our deserters. You've not run have you?" He eyed Lee coldly.
Hornblower noticed the merest flicker of something in Adama's eye - cold, unnerving, hinting at who knew what in his past that should not be brought out here of all places. "I can vouch for the lieutenant, sir. He's been as good a servant to the merchant service for his country as I have been to the fighting fleet for mine. He won’t let anyone down." It seemed an odd thing to hear his voice use such strange words, none of which he could in all truth stand by. But he was not going to leave Lee here while he went off to seek his fortunes anew.
"Got papers to prove it?" The captain grinned; the marmoset copied him.
"Have you tried to get your papers back from a Captain who'd decided that he was the only sane man on the ship and had rifled his officers' cabins to prove it?" Adama had suddenly remembered a similar story he'd half heard from his rescuers; he turned to Hornblower as if to seek confirmation.
"Especially when the captain becomes convinced he's the Angel Raphael and sets his lieutenant adrift in a small boat off the Scilly Isles." Horatio decided that if he made the tale as outrageous as possible, it might be more believable than a mundane one about being targeted by cutpurses.
Quite unexpectedly, Warne laughed. "Nothing surprises me about merchantmen." He looked at the men closely again, then nodded. "You're both on trial then. Report here tomorrow, at six bells in the morning watch."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Apollo/Hornblower
Summary: A fearsome new fighting combination takes shape in Portsmouth. *g* This is a continuation from the original crossover and begins with a re-worked version of that story. It's a collaborative effort with
calavarna who has worked like a Trojan on it. Thanks to mzcalypso for the beta and encouragement.No claim made on or profit made from these characters.
The varying shore o' th' world 1
Horatio could not face going back to his lodgings - he needed a stiff drink, or perhaps three, before he could clamber up to bed and risk dreaming again. Last night he had spent a fitful time, tossing and turning and dreaming of Archie as usual. Vivid dreams, that had continued to haunt him all day, making Portsmouth seem entirely populated by Kennedys, each one of them an illusion - just men who bore a fleeting resemblance in colour or build. Perhaps when Horatio awoke next morning everyone would bear the mask of his lover's face, even Mrs Mason and her daughter - and Hornblower would be driven mad and have to find a desert island or a convenient pistol with just one bullet. That was another good reason to postpone sleep.
He found a small tavern near Spice Island, purchased a pint, sat down. There was only one other occupant of the long table which Hornblower had chosen for its relative privacy - a youngish man, one who appeared to be talking to himself on and off and who inevitably, in keeping with this disturbing day, reminded him of Archie. Except on closer inspection this man really did look like Kennedy, albeit an older version - into his thirties perhaps - more rugged, less whimsical, bearing the marks of battle and hard times across his face. But it was still a ridiculously handsome visage, the characteristic little, child's nose and bright blue eyes - Horatio could not help but stare at him, eyes drawn again and again to the image of the one he had loved so very much.
"Can I help you?" The man spoke, a hint of belligerence in his voice indicating that he had noticed he was being watched and did not like it.
"I'm sorry, it was very rude of me to stare; I hope that you will pardon the intrusion. You bear an extraordinary likeness to a friend of mine, one who is now dead. I could not help..." Words failed Hornblower; it had been a frustrating and puzzling day, with him inhabiting some sort of half dream world and now he felt tired, lonely, hopeless.
Kennedy's double smiled - a rueful, tired smile. "There's no need to apologise then. I know what it's like to lose someone close." He drained his glass, looked at it, turned to Horatio, "I'm getting myself another, can I treat you?"
Hornblower nodded and the man went off to the bar, leaving the lieutenant to consider his new acquaintance. The accent spoke of foreign climes - perhaps the Americas or one of the colonies. There were plenty of men from the other side of the world who had entered His Majesty's service either willingly or through the press; this chap could well be a naval officer or one of the many merchant seamen who traded their wares here. His clothes certainly looked like they had once been fine broadcloth and his demeanour spoke of time in the service. When he returned, he took a seat facing Horatio and raised his tankard. "To departed friends."
"Departed friends indeed." Hornblower drank deeply, contemplating this apparition over the rim of his vessel. His hair seemed exceedingly short for a gentleman, the cut of it unlike anything that Hornblower could remember seeing outside of a bunch of renegades who had been taken from prison to serve on Justinian. And there was a look in the man's eyes that suggested that he had lost his direction in life.
"Do you have a name, sir?" the question came quite unexpectedly.
"Hornblower, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower, once of His Majesty's Navy but now cast up on the beach." The bitterness in his own voice surprised him - he did not usually speak to anyone with such candour, had not done so since his confidante had left him. This strange foreign officer, if that's what he was, must have made him feel at ease again and free to talk openly. "And you?" he hastily added, remembering his manners.
"Captain Lee Adama, like yourself currently without a ship."
"What was your last command?"
Adama smiled. "The last ship I served on wasn't mycommand."
Hornblower nodded his understanding - a flagship then perhaps?
"She was called Galactica."
At this Horatio looked blank; not a vessel he had come across, possibly one of the ships of the line being rolled out by the Americans as they sought to secure their position on the Western coasts of the Atlantic. Or a vessel captured off Cape Horn and renamed by the Spanish. "From what we might call the far side of the world perhaps?" He smiled, the beer and this man's fascinating presence putting him at ease.
"I guess you could say that." the captain grinned. He was strangely taken with this stiff young officer and found himself relaxing for the first time in weeks.
"So how do you find yourself here?"
Hell, there was a question - one Adama could hardly begin to answer. What would terms like Cylons, Battlestars, wormholes, rips in the space-time continuum mean to a sailor of the 1800's, when not even heavier-than-air flight had been discovered? But reply had to be given or his own precarious position might be risked. "My ship was attacked," so far so good, his companion could understand things if he kept it in those terms. It would also enable him to keep as near the truth as possible.
"Pirates?"
Adama nodded - it was not a bad description. "We were driven into uncharted waters, lost our bearings." The computers went out like lights but you'd never begin to comprehend that. "I took some of my men," generic term for the species, it would do, "in smaller vessels to lead an assault." Horatio thought of a surprise boarding raid and nodded, "but we were ourselves attacked. I alone made it here - the rest of my crew were lost - I found myself adrift off some hell hole of a place, back of beyond. I've no idea what happened to my ship."
"Perhaps she overcame her assailants and has gone home to refit. She will find you again I hope." Hornblower looked kindly at his companion, another lost soul like himself.
"Me too," Adama raised his glass in salute to Galactica but he had little optimism on his face.
"So you made your way here?"
"I did - I was lucky enough to be picked out the water by one of your nobility I guess you would call them. Eccentric old guy, had his own private vessel to patrol the western shores. He helped me on my way." A way that Adama was not willing to describe, past the point where milord had begun to suspect that he was a Napoleonic spy and Lee had been forced to escape with the aid of some pistols acquired from his host - and they were the frakking end to load. It had been feral living then, making his way by what he could nick or barter. He'd been fortunate enough early on to come across a collector of curiosities who had paid him a handsome price for his flying suit. Perhaps it was the unusual materials that had made him so generous - perhaps it was the fact that Adama had let the man help him out of the uniform and had not minded the liberties he took in the process. The captain had been able to use the money to get a set of clothes that would not draw attention to himself and to find a bed each night and provision for his stomach.
"And what are your plans now?"
"I've no fr... bloody idea. Get a ship. Find a job. Survive. It's what you do."
"It is indeed." Hornblower's eyes filled with tears. Surviving - that's what he'd been doing since Kingston. Not living really, just doing whatever had to be done to keep body and soul together till the next noon's observance, which is how he marked his days.
Adama noticed the tears, pretended not to, seemed to make up his mind about something. "You wouldn't know where I can find a bed for the night, would you? Haven't fixed myself up yet and it's getting late. Been a tiring few days."
A bold streak remerged in Horatio, one that had been dulled by the months of heartbreak and disappointment. "My landlady would not mind if we shared, providing she could make a profit from it. As long as you would not mind sharing a bed..." He fixed his eyes on his now empty glass and hoped - almost as hard as he had hoped for Archie to survive both the bullet and the gallows - that this man would say yes.
"That seems to be pretty much the norm here for officers down on their luck," if he saw the slight look of offence in Horatio's eye, Adama ignored that too; he could tell how the land lay. "Suits me." He finished his drink, stood up and indicated that they should go.
They walked back to Hornblower's lodgings in comparative silence, Horatio only talking briefly to point out where they were in relation to some of Portsmouth's more notable places; his mind was racing. Why had he been so bold? What had he hoped to achieve - some frantic coupling with a stranger whom he could make believe was Kennedy? There was not even the slightest indication that an advance would be welcomed. Perhaps he could just look at that lovely face and pretend that it was his Archie he saw as he went to sleep and his Archie still there when he awoke. Maybe he could just stay the night awake and watch Adama slumbering; the rain had cleared and the moon was full, there would be enough light through his window. He could observe and simply enjoy the experience.
They reached the house, squared things away with Mrs Mason - she seemed very taken with the foreign officer - and went up to the room, whose meagre state confirmed Adama in all his suppositions. Hornblower was definitely an officer who, however proud and well spoken he might be, had seen better days and was not content in his present condition. The captain was touched by strong emotions - pity, sympathy, desire, lust. As the door closed behind them, leaving just the moonlight for illumination, he suddenly clasped Hornblower's arm and drew him closer, as if to speak confidentially. "Did he share your bed? This friend of yours you miss so much?"
Horatio could not answer coherently; he simply nodded.
"Want to pretend that I'm him?"
Hornblower swallowed hard, looked Adama straight in the eye. "I've wanted that ever since I saw you in the tavern. But you need to understand - we did not just use the bed for sleeping." Better to be clear from the start; no point in raising expectations and finding it was just friendship offered.
The captain smiled. "I didn't think for one minute you did. Not if you looked at him like you've been looking at me. Not if he held you and felt what I do now." He leaned closer, face almost touching Horatio's, breath as sweet and beer laden as Archie's had been on many an occasion. When he was this close, blue eyes boring into Horatio's, the lieutenant could easily believe that this was his erstwhile lover - there was even a little scar on his left cheek that might well have been the double of the one that Kennedy bore. It was more than flesh and blood could stand.
They kissed - it felt absurdly good. Adama nudged Hornblower's nose with his, brushed his mouth with his lips again, just as Archie used to do; kiss after kiss interspersed with little nudges and touches - face on face, lips on lips. The tears started to flow down Horatio's cheeks - they were caressed away with strong, rough hands, hands that then ran through his hair and held his head firm. "If it’s not right don't do it. Just tell me. I'll go."
Hornblower shook his head, "Don't go, not now. Just call me by my name and kiss me once more."
"OK Horatio. We'll do just that." He kissed Hornblower again, much more passionately this time, then pulled back. "What was his name?"
"Archie. Archie Kennedy. He gave his life so that I could live and I wish now that it was me dead and him here laughing with you."
"He'd have laughed, would he? Stuck in this frakking place like we are?"
Hornblower winced at the strange vocabulary, then smiled ruefully. "He'd have slapped your back and found you a bottle and a meal. He'd have somehow contrived for you to drink the tavern dry and rolled you home fit to burst with laughter. And the night - Captain Adama, you have not the first idea of what the night would have been like."
"Show me." Blue eyes burned deep with a strange mixture of hopelessness and longing. "Horatio, I'm as lost as you are. Maybe you can't take pity on yourself. Pity me."
Hornblower leaned down, nuzzled into Adama's neck. "I'll pretend twice over then. Pretend this is for your benefit." He gently saluted the captain's ear, sighed. "I've missed you so much, Archie."
"Course you have Horatio. Been a while." He tugged at Hornblower's waistcoat buttons - frakking ridiculous things to truss yourself up in, these clothes.
Horatio smiled. "You always were hopeless with buttons, Archie. Allow me." Adama let him; let him undo every button the pair of them possessed. Let him do whatever he liked. Didn't even mind that Hornblower kept murmuring I love you Archie, don't leave me again. Lay back. Thought of Galactica. Didn't think at all. Coupled. Tried to work out what the hell he was going to do in the morning. Coupled once more.
The moon shone more brightly than either man had ever known it - Adama felt torn between homesickness and the desire to travel these strictly terrestrial oceans with his new friend, a man he was - for no logical reason - sure would never betray him; who had seen enough of sacrifice not to demand it of another man.
Horatio looked at the moon and wondered if a special angel had been given charge of it, an angel too mischievous to be trusted with anything else and who was shining down his authorization on this congress. He upbraided himself for such sentimentality.
They fell into an easy sleep, Adama dreaming that he was on a ship, naval uniform just like those he had seen on his travels, hair long and bound up in a pigtail, wind in his face, pistol in his belt that took a frakking age to load.
Horatio dreamed as he had never done before; his own command - that was nothing new - Archie at his side - neither was that - but this ship sailed among the stars and that was something he had never even contemplated.
***
It was to be, Horatio decided, a most frustrating day. All he wanted was a few moments of quiet in which he could contemplate the previous day’s occurrences but Mrs Mason, who had taken quite a shine to the new officer under her roof, would not let him be. Every few minutes her footsteps could be heard climbing the narrow stairs, stopping just outside the door as if to listen for any sign of impropriety on Hornblower’s behalf towards Captain Adama. She would be scandalised, of course, if she knew just how far they had stretched the bounds of propriety last night, although she needn’t currently worry; Adama had surfaced early and could be half way across the country by now for all Horatio knew.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the captain; it was possible this double of Archie could win Horatio’s affections in his own right, but pure base instinct told Horatio that there was far more to Captain Lee Adama than had been revealed last night. The very fact that Adama had departed without notice set Horatio on edge, for two vastly different reasons. Firstly, he held no respect for those who engaged in promiscuous behaviour; secondly, he could not bear to lose another lover so soon after finding a modicum of happiness.
The sound of footsteps traipsing down the hallway broke his train of thought. He crept silently towards the door intent on catching Mrs Mason, and was met with a great deal of pain as the solid panel of wood connected soundly with his face. His eyes immediately filled with tears, and he felt rather than saw a hand reach out to guide him to the dishevelled bed. Lee had returned and was bearing both gifts and a grin.
"Sorry, Horatio. Had no idea you were playing hide and seek behind the door."
Hornblower bridled, not just at the harsh insult. This man had an interesting vocabulary. "I was not lurking there if that's what you mean. I was on my way out to find my breakfast."
"Well it's found you." Adama laid a parcel on the bed, a package from which a wonderful smell arose.
"Sausages?" Hornblower's nose twitched excitedly - it was a long time since he had breakfasted on more than bread and a thin excuse for coffee. "And what," he almost dare not ask the question, "is in that pot?"
"Coffee - for us to drink our fill of, long as we return it and the mugs to the owner. Nice old girl." He began to pour and the marvellous aroma filled the room. "The old girl downstairs won’t disturb us either - I said you were hungover."
"Thank you, now she'll think even worse of me than she already does." Horatio had convinced himself that his new friend would not return - finding himself proven so very wrong and being bashed on one of the parts of his physiognomy of which he was particularly mindful had made him belligerent. Pride had suffered twice over and was reasserting itself.
"What'd she think if she came in and saw this?" They both eyed the dishevelled sheets with a hint of unease.
"You are quite right sir. I apologise." Horatio concentrated on his cup of coffee, trying hard to hide the burning on his cheeks.
"Forget it - eat. Anyway, you wanted me to pretend I was him," Adama broke the awkward silence, "or you did last night, so I thought I'd carry on this morning. Guess he'd have brought you a feast for a king, but this was my best."
"It's a feast for me," Hornblower felt no need any longer to pretend about his penurious state, not with this man. He was curious as to where and how Lee had been able to rustle up such a meal at short notice, especially to the extent of being allowed to borrow crockery that could have been taken and pawned by some unscrupulous soul. He knew officers on the beach like him who were not above such things. In the circumstances, Kennedy would have charmed the birds from the trees with a smile or a mention of his aristocratic father; Horatio dreaded to think how Adama had done it. Probably none too differently. An accent that spoke of a distant colony and bright blue eyes which reflected honesty could make for a devastation combination if unleashed on a properly receptive audience.
Horatio tore furiously into one of the sausages, washing it down with several large swallows of the scalding hot coffee, and repeating the process. After eating his fill, he leaned forward from his perch on the bed and studied Adama with narrowed eyes. “How long have you served your country?”
“Since I was twenty-one. I went straight from College to-” Frak, 19th century Earth didn’t’t have an equivalent of Flight School and wouldn’t for another couple of centuries as far as Galactica’s CAG could tell. “To basic military training. I think my father might have pulled a few strings to make sure I received a decent posting. He’s Galactica’s commander.”
“You were transferred to his ship then?” Horatio lightly drummed long fingers against the hard mattress, anxious to hear more.
“Not really. I was only supposed to attend Galactica’s decommissioning ceremony,” but we were attacked by frakking toasters, “but after the…pirates attacked there was no way for me to return to my ship. I had no choice but to remain on Galactica and serve under Commander Adama.” Lee sighed heavily. As much as his relationship with his father had developed in the months after the initial Cylon attack, there were still lingering tensions. He supposed he would never get a chance to rectify that now.
Horatio’s brow furrowed at the explanation. “You outrank your father?”
“No, of course not. Like I said, my father is Galactica’s commander.” Adama had a sneaking suspicion that he had committed a horrible gaffe in front of the clever young man and made a hasty effort to conceal his unease by changing the subject. “You never told me how long you and Archie had known each other.”
“Eight years. Almost exactly.” Distracted by a problem that was, for now, just beyond his ability to solve, Horatio ignored the familiar jolt of pain he felt at the mention of his lost lover and pressed on with his interrogation. “You introduced yourself as Captain Lee Adama. A captain outranks a commander, you must know that.”
Lee licked his lips nervously. Of all the things he’d avoided explaining, he just had to be caught out by something so simple. Best stick with a modified version of the truth. “Not in my service. A commander ranks higher than captain. At least they do on the far side of the world.” Never mind that he hadn’t quite figured out where the far side of the world was.
"But do you not have admirals like us?" Horatio could not clarify in his brain how this foreign navy, one he had assumed to be so like his own, worked. He also realised that he still didn't know exactly which country they were talking about.
"We do - commander just means he's a sort of senior captain," Adama laughed, trying to hide his nerves. "Funny the different names we use for things - like your snotties - that's a helluva name for a rank."
Horatio bridled at the reminder of the tag that Simpson had taunted him with. "It's a nickname for midshipmen, rather a crude one. I believe it comes from their alleged habit of wiping their noses on their sleeves; hence the buttons you can find sewn on their cuffs to put them off."
Adama laughed. "Little boys are gross." He was pleased to have overcome the awkward moment, at least temporarily - and pleased that he'd picked up enough slang on his travels to be able to present some sort of coherent tale; but he was going to have to avoid making such simple errors. In truth he had found out an awful lot while aboard the ship that had rescued him, a ship appearing against all hope when he was near to death in the freezing Scottish waters. They'd been out a further two weeks before coming to shore and during that time Lee had watched everything and learned as much as he could.
They'd fitted him out with some old masters' mates clothes the crew had acquired somewhere - that's where he'd first heard the term snotty, as in looks like an overgrown snotty whose mum's cut his hair. He'd been given free run of the ship - this all being prior to milord's suspicions about his provenance - mixing with officers and men alike, and quite literally learning the ropes. He'd proved a quick pupil, watching the daily gun drills that the ship's owner insisted on and soon getting the hang of what was required; he'd even been allowed to lead one of the teams in the final days of their voyage. If only he could turn the conversation to gunnery, he might be able to distract Hornblower until he had his own story watertight enough to pass such expert scrutiny. Or, he thought suddenly, he could distract the lieutenant in other ways.
Stretching out on the bed, he doffed his waistcoat and allowed the neck of his shirt to fall open. Hornblower was suitably distracted by the show of flesh, judging by the way he gripped his coffee mug, knuckles white, body tense. Filing that trick away as one to be used for diversionary purposes, Lee sat up, remembering some important details he had overheard.
"Breakfast wasn't all I picked up." Adama had a conspiratorial look on his open, handsome - Hornblower could not get over how handsome - face. "There were two men in the tavern - one trying desperately to sober up the other. Think they'd been celebrating some good news and overdid it. Frakking out of it this guy was." He saw Horatio wince and realised that here was one word he could perhaps lose from his vocabulary. "They were talking a bit too loud; typical when you've overdone it - seems they were going for interview for a post on a ship at two o'clock today. If they get sober in time."
"Then they should count themselves fortunate," Horatio reflected ruefully on his own shipless state and the small likelihood of finding a berth anywhere, now that England was at peace.
"I guess they did and that's why the guy got sauced. Anyhow, it seems from what I heard that some privateer needs to man his ship and wants the best of His Majesty's ex-officers he can get his hands on. Gonna be pretty competitive to get on board; that's why the one without the hangover needed his friend to get clear-headed."
Horatio looked puzzled. "And why should another man's berth or the losing of it interest us?"
"Because I reckon if we get down to the hard at one o'clock we could have found ourselves a job before anyone else does." Adama grinned eagerly. “Besides, I doubt you’ll last much longer without a decent income. Wouldn’t want you to waste away to a shadow.”
He looked so much like Archie for a moment that Horatio had to chastise himself severely for confusing the two. The plan was certainly something Archie could have devised. He would have guaranteed his berth then gone back to the tavern and bought the other two men a beer, bold as brass. His resulting happiness would have been less because of their return to sea and more due to an escape from idleness; Horatio rather suspected Adama felt the same way.
“Is that fair?” All thoughts of money aside, it seemed immoral to cheat honest men out of their livelihood. Ethics were of little consequence while at war – when lives were at stake and the only thing that lay between life and death was the chance that false colours might buy some time – but while on land they were all in the same position. Poor, uncertain, miserable.
“Have you ever felt as if you have to do something, regardless of the consequences? This is no different. We can either take this opportunity that’s been presented to us or we can remain here in your meagre lodgings, wretched and penniless.”
Horatio thought of Captain Sawyer, and how he had forced the issue of Sawyer’s ability to command, and nodded. “You’re right.”
Adama breathed a silent sigh of relief. Horatio’s concerns mirrored his own, and he felt as if his conscience had been dealt a harsh blow, but the chance they’d been presented with was too good to pass over. It was almost as if the Lords of Kobol were looking out for him, and if conscience was the price he must pay, then so be it.
The water of Portsmouth harbour sparkled in the sunshine; a slight haze hung above the point and over to Haslar - a haze the colour of Archie's eyes, which Hornblower took as a good omen. Same colour as Adama's eyes, too. The Hard was its usual buzz of activity, but they soon located their man, Lee having overheard that he would be found with a small marmoset on his shoulder, standing beside three barrels. This added a level of intrigue to the situation that simply piqued Horatio's interest. They had agreed in advance to keep Adama's rank a secret - someone might not want another captain on their ship; instances of mutiny and usurpation were too recent to have gone from people's minds. Two mere lieutenants might be just the privateer's requirement.
And the matter of the foreign navy needed to be handled with subtlety, too. Lee had tentatively suggested he could say he was from a merchant ship - Horatio had already accepted his explanation that he bore no papers because of the wrecking of his vessel; an unknown captain might not be so trusting and would want some sort of guarantee of his provenance. They would have to play it by ear.
They reported, saluted, gave their names. Mr Warne eyed them up and down with a hint of distain, noting the slight shabbiness of the uniform, but at least one of the two names had rung a distinct bell with him. He knew of Hornblower's exploits on the Indefatigable and in the West Indies; that sort of tale of derring-do got spread very quickly. As did the story of a certain fourth lieutenant's mutinous behaviour. The captain of the Hambledon would have shaken off Hornblower's hand and sealed the matter there and then, had he not entertained the thought that perhaps more than one man had been involved in the shenanigans on Renown. On the other hand, he was likely to prove a bloody good man to have at your side in a tight corner - cunning and lucky with it - and such quality might not turn up again this day.
"I'll give you a trial - taking the crew out for a few days to test out the refitting. I'll know by the end of that." He shook Horatio's hand and went back to looking over some experienced hands who had come to try their luck.
"Excuse me," Hornblower interjected, "What about Mr Adama? Is he to be taken on too?"
Warne looked at the pair again. "Not come across many foreign sailors - heard they filled their ships with our deserters. You've not run have you?" He eyed Lee coldly.
Hornblower noticed the merest flicker of something in Adama's eye - cold, unnerving, hinting at who knew what in his past that should not be brought out here of all places. "I can vouch for the lieutenant, sir. He's been as good a servant to the merchant service for his country as I have been to the fighting fleet for mine. He won’t let anyone down." It seemed an odd thing to hear his voice use such strange words, none of which he could in all truth stand by. But he was not going to leave Lee here while he went off to seek his fortunes anew.
"Got papers to prove it?" The captain grinned; the marmoset copied him.
"Have you tried to get your papers back from a Captain who'd decided that he was the only sane man on the ship and had rifled his officers' cabins to prove it?" Adama had suddenly remembered a similar story he'd half heard from his rescuers; he turned to Hornblower as if to seek confirmation.
"Especially when the captain becomes convinced he's the Angel Raphael and sets his lieutenant adrift in a small boat off the Scilly Isles." Horatio decided that if he made the tale as outrageous as possible, it might be more believable than a mundane one about being targeted by cutpurses.
Quite unexpectedly, Warne laughed. "Nothing surprises me about merchantmen." He looked at the men closely again, then nodded. "You're both on trial then. Report here tomorrow, at six bells in the morning watch."
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You might have to explain the Warne / Hambledon / marmoset allusions if there are any. Thought it must be O'Brian by the title (brilliant by the way) but can't place them. Can't wait for more!
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We weren't consciously alluding to O'Brian - the title is from 'Anthony and Cleopatra', just after the bit that Archie quotes in D&D.
*hides in embarassment at mention of Warne* - this was just us being silly. Warne is based on the magnificent Shane, your King of Spin. Hambledon is the home of cricket. The marmoset signifies nothing (yet).
Hugs
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Thanks for your nice comment!
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Lummy! If that's true and had we known, I'm not sure we've have attempted it...
Thank you for the kind words - I don't know very much about BSG, either - that's
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"Especially when the captain becomes convinced he's the Angel Raphael and sets his lieutenant adrift in a small boat off the Scilly Isles." Horatio decided that if he made the taleas outrageous as possible, it might be more believable than a mundane one about being targeted by cutpurses.
Now there's a very Archie thing for Horatio to do! *grins widely*
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The funny thing is that I don't like the show at all!
I've just had a thought - perhaps Guardian Angel Archie is watching over Horatio and making him do all sorts of inspired things.
(Actually I did think of you earlier today; I was watching cricket on TV and Jim Troughton - grandson of the second Dr Who - took a catch. The world's daftest plot bunny bounced through my bonce - cricket, Dr K, Lord Peter, Dr Who (McGann version)!)
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Really enjoying the fact that you decided to run with this idea, though! All
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Good, aint it? That's a <"lj user="calavarns"> piece.
And that's where the fun starts. Think Mr Adama can run a ship? :)
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Thanks so much for your comment!
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I am a fool for such crossovers or pretty sailors from Sea or Sky Oh, so am I. And how pretty they are (especially together) *g*
Thank you very much for your kind comment, we promise there'll be more soon.
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No need to apologise - so pretty, so heroic, who could resist?
Thank you so much - we'll keep writing as long as they keep talking to us!
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:-) I hope the lad's don't find themselves batting on a sticky wicket.
Had a scary thought... Archie stuck in a parallel universe with Starbuck, now wouldn't there be some interesting conversations, for those are two officer's who cannot keep their mouth's shut *grin* Certainly no prevaricating and lots of snark :-) Poor Colonel Tigh.
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Really? You do surprise me. Would never have guessed. X)
The mind boggles.
Thanks
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I'd much prefer Archie and Apollo ;-) Funny that, eh?
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if he made the tale as outrageous as possible, it might be more believable than a mundane one
Props to you ladies for pulling this off! As usual, I can't wait for more.
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Don't it just? Thanks for the positive encouragement - it's certainly a challenge trying to make something that's fundamentally ridiculous in some way believable.
Hugs
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That's what we thought - but agree with you about Horry and the issues; there'll be a lot more angst with Lee than with Archie. And rivalry.
Indeed - the next bit is written and needs a jolly good priddying but should see light of day in about a week - the piece after that is travelling back and forth across the world being added to haphazardly. I reckon it must be the most cyber-travelled fic in the world.
Varying Shore I - Part I
well, slightlydifferent. I decided to give up on trying to suffer through an episode of BSG. Even given the Jamie-ness I just can’t do it. *strikes colours* A bridge too far.And it occurred to me last night that I have ceased apologising for the loads of unconnected, disjointed ideas that spring forth and I’m sorry I don’t put them into a more ordered form. I’d be failed on the MPT if I did that (as yesterday’s lecture bore out) and whilst I could try to proffer a defence of some sort I’ve also learned the that there are times to suck it up, go to the table and accept judgment gracefully (or as gracefully as is possible). So, to avoid breaking a vow I made to you aaaages ago, I will NOTE that it is regrettable I am unable to approach your literary works with any equanimity and concise or reasoned analysis because they’re just too good (and I would have written shorter comments but I don’t have the time just now).
and Hornblower would be driven mad and have to find a desert island or a convenient pistol with just one bullet.
This description was so interesting – by contrast – to how brides!horry dealt with his grief. Very interesting characterization I really thought that was good.
a youngish man, one who appeared to be talking to himself on and off and who inevitably, in keeping with this disturbing day, reminded him of Archie.
Awww. And I have to giggle at ‘young-ish’ man – saw a bit of a new version of jane eyre with the fellow from Cambridge spies and he was talking about being a ‘young-ish’ man. *giggle*
more rugged, less whimsical, bearing the marks of battle and hard times across his face.
Love the description. And interesting to see horry ‘observing’ archie in a very different way to how he normally does.
"Can I help you?" The man spoke, a hint of belligerence in his voice indicating that he had noticed he was being watched and did not like it.
And I can imagine him delivering the line – I can hear it.
The accent spoke of foreign climes - perhaps the Americas or one of the colonies.
I forgot he has ‘north American english’ in this show. Even tho they are both alright talking like that, I adore jamie’s other voice and jb!brogue is just too cute.
Eccentric old guy, had his own private vessel to patrol the western shores. He helped me on my way."
The previous bit where adama is pondering all this and trying to make sense of things so interesting. I do adore the psychology of archie (either in the AOS or in the brides universe) since mister ipondereverything normally steals the inside bits. And also just b/c adama so different. I’ve seen the one clip
yes, that clipand along with the dialogue, feel I’m getting to know adama!jamie well. It’s cool. :D And I really like his modern-day colloquial speech – helps put the character vividly into one’s mind."I've no fr... bloody idea.
*giggle*
The captain was touched by strong emotions - pity, sympathy, desire, lust. …"Want to pretend that I'm him?"
Adama is so different. But I can see/hear/imagine Jamie!adama saying all this.
But you need to understand - we did not just use the bed for sleeping."
And then there are the constants of the universe. Poor old horatio. Somehow I think adama realised, probably even before horry thought of it back in the pub.
Re: Varying Shore I - Part I
You and me too, sweetheart. He's lovely but there are limits. (It's like the Torchwood/JB thing - at least there are some episodes of that which are watchable...)
So, to avoid breaking a vow I made to you aaaages ago, I will NOTE that it is regrettable I am unable to approach your literary works with any equanimity and concise or reasoned analysis because they’re just too good (and I would have written shorter comments but I don’t have the time just now).
You make my day, sweetie pie.
Very interesting characterization I really thought that was good.
Thank You - this actually started off as a funny piece and got more and more serious. That's one of the light hearted leftovers.
And interesting to see horry ‘observing’ archie in a very different way to how he normally does
It's a recurring theme - Horry seeing yet not seeing Archie in Lee.
Somehow I think adama realised, probably even before horry thought of it back in the pub.
You're probably right. Much more open in Adama's time - i bet he saw the signs.
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Varying Shore I - Part II
I wonder if he realised how gorgeous he looked. You know, I guess adama might realise … *grin*
"The old girl downstairs won’t disturb us either - I said you were hungover."
I do like adama and how he’s just being him, as of course he would, despite being out of place and out of time. IT’s great.
Guess he'd have brought you a feast for a king, but this was my best."
Oh that’s so endearing even tho I know he’s a bit of a rogue.
Kennedy would have charmed the birds from the trees with a smile or a mention of his aristocratic father;
Awww. I miss archie. It’s odd I suppose this is exactly as it will/might be with jack when he turns up (i.e. a devastatingly handsome character available and perhaps interested in one of the pair) but it’s not the same sort of dilemma for horry since archie is
can’t say it outnot available just now. But mister guiltfest would find a way to feel he was cheating and since the period is so close to when he had to let archie go, yeah, I can see that being a really, really, really hard dilemma.An accent that spoke of a distant colony and bright blue eyes which reflected honesty could make for a devastation combination if unleashed on a properly receptive audience.
Such a well wrought phrase!!!
Frak, 19th century Earth didn’t’t have an equivalent of Flight School and wouldn’t for another couple of centuries as far as Galactica’s CAG could tell.
*giggle* He’s so great.
Adama had a sneaking suspicion that he had committed a horrible gaffe in front of the clever young man and made a hasty effort to conceal his unease by changing the subject.
I really like adama. I can imagine him – poor guy thinking like: frak, frak, frak, how do I explain this without ‘blowing my cover’.
Lee licked his lips nervously. Of all the things he’d avoided explaining, he just had to be caught out by something so simple. Best stick with a modified version of the truth. “Not in my service. A commander ranks higher than captain. At least they do on the far side of the world.” Never mind that he hadn’t quite figured out where the far side of the world was.
Simply brilliant writing. I really like that a lot. Lee could talk his way out of everything. He must be somehow related to archie, very distantly of course since he’s in the 5000 century or whatever it is.
I believe it comes from their alleged habit of wiping their noses on their sleeves; hence the buttons you can find sewn on their cuffs to put them off."
*giggle* Yes I remember your telling me this – if I had read this I would have known.
Re: Varying Shore I - Part II
Merci - and on behalf of
but it’s not the same sort of dilemma for horry since archie is can’t say it out not available just now. But mister guiltfest would find a way to feel he was cheating and since the period is so close to when he had to let archie go,
It's almost as if you've read ahead! Oh the angst proliferates. Yes - Archie nt available - I like that idea.
And couldn't that all just apply to JB2? I can't think of a better description of him in panto...
Simply brilliant writing. I really like that a lot
i'm so glad you said that cos that's one of calavarna's bits and I HOPE SHE NOTICED!
*giggle*
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Clever, clever 51st century boy taking advantage. Mean lee. Just kidding.
The plan was certainly something Archie could have devised. He would have guaranteed his berth then gone back to the tavern and bought the other two men a beer, bold as brass.
Oh yes. It’s just so brilliant – is adama really like this? Or do you think it’s just Jamie coming through, adding hints of this in characters he plays. It’s brilliant. So good so good!
Hornblower noticed the merest flicker of something in Adama's eye - cold, unnerving, hinting at who knew what in his past that should not be brought out here of all places.
I love his strength. It’s going to be interesting to see where this goes.
"You're both on trial then. Report here tomorrow, at six bells in the morning watch."
This is going to be brilliant. Really looking forward to carrying on with it!!! This is going to be really interesting and you’re so right – adama was really easy to get to know. I can’t help but like his character a great deal – strangely drawn to him even tho I know he’s not ‘solid’ and good like archie is. But this has so much potential. I am sorry
yes, sorry for saying thatthat I couldn’t be more ordered. But yeah. This is amazing – so so so interesting!!! Eagerly anticipating the next bit. :DMore anon - will catch up on the emails owed to you (and comments) this evening. Take care!!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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I'm not sure. He has a bold streak and a conscience and some internal demons; rather like Archie in that but I don't think he's as nice as Archie. But I think he'd be willing to do almost anything to survive in the 1800's.
You're right in your summing up - I like Lee and have grown to like him more as I wrote this. And the more I think about him again the more i see the analogies with Jack H....
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