whisted | for jollyboat: anywhere you go

He doesn't quite fit.

Horatio had known, of course, that he wouldn't. Even if he had managed to make his way onto a ship years ago, everyone would have known he was odd. Perhaps it's for the best that he's clearly just a bit skittish, just a bit uncertain of himself unlike the other young men his age. Perhaps that would distract the human mind from looking to see just why, exactly, this one didn't seem to be quite entirely right.

It was, nonetheless, one thing to know and another thing to live. Being bundled in heavy unfamiliar fabric is surprisingly uncomfortable. The uniform is far more restrictive than the clothing he had forced himself to become accustomed to while hovering around the port. The sensation of being on a boat, despite the familiarity of the sea, is throwing his stomach through something of a loop. He can't shift and change direction. He can't twist along with the waves, comfortable and easy, or cut through below the discomfort of breakers tugging in the wrong direction. It's unnatural, here on a warped version of the surface. It's twisting something uncomfortable in his shoulders, almost dizzying as he tries to find his feet under him.

This is what he wanted, and it doesn't quite fit.

For the most part, feeling his skin in the sack slung over his shoulders is reassuring. His fingers can worry against the familiar softness with each odd rush of discomfort. This, after all, is the back-up plan. This is the fail-safe if everything falls completely to pieces and he needs to throw himself simply back into the sea. This is the piece of himself which will always fit properly, no matter where he is.

That's why it's resting at the top of his sack as he scrambles up properly into the ship. That's why, in the bluster of humanity, the young selkie doesn't notice that his skin has spilled out onto the deck.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

midship

It's imperfect, but it's a shade more perfect than where they'd started. That had always been a part of what made them such a good team.

He can't stop himself from leaning in, just for a heartbeat. It's a quick thing to nudge his forehead against Archie's, but it helps stop the impulse to cling.

"You're sure?"

From:

betteralready

It also helps Archie to breathe just a little more easily. That's a plus. It doesn't entirely stop this bitter laugh that escapes his lips.

"No," he replies, and at least it's honest, "But it's-- what we've got, mm?"

So it has to be enough.

"Just-- try to do it when there's a storm or-- late at night. Both, ideally. 'f I don't have to-- lose you at all it'd be better."

Being separated is always terribly difficult, after all.

From:

midship

It will have to be enough, just like standing close without touching has to be enough. After a beat, Horatio can nod his way through that truth.

"I will." They can do better, even. "We'll pick. Together."

So that Archie wouldn't be blindsided by it. So that they could come the closest possible to Archie really being sure.

From:

betteralready

"'f we can."

Archie can't help but sound exhausted and bitter, still. He can't help how tired and nervous the entire situation makes him.

"If you see a chance to that'll be safe for you and you don't have-- time to check, you should-- go for it."

From:

midship

"If you're sure."

Permission was good. Permission was better when given twice, with no chance for misunderstanding.

From:

betteralready

"I'm sure I want him gone. I'm even more sure I want you safe."

Those are about the only things he can be sure about.

"So if-- you're sure you can manage both those things I trust you t'make the call."

Or, at least, trusts that Horatio will keep safe as he can for Archie's sake, if nothing else.

From:

midship

"Okay."

A deep breath, and Horatio can manage a smile. One hand touches glancingly at Archie's arm, just long enough to be certain he has the man's proper attention as his lips flit up at the edges.

"--okay."

It isn't. But it will be.

From:

betteralready

It isn't. But maybe, with that smile on Horatio's face, it will be. That manages to earn a wan hint of a smile, as well.

"Okay." It's still a little tired, but letting his fingers brush against Horatio's helps, "We probably should-- get some sleep."

From:

midship

"Go on, then."

There would have to be a stop first on Horatio's part. There were always negotiations that had to happen, and the sooner he began them with the rest of the sea, the better.

From:

betteralready

"Give them my regards."

Because of course Archie knows where Horatio's going to head to first. Of course Archie's going to brush his fingers one last time against Horatio's.

Of course, as he passes by to head to the wardroom, he's going to let loose a low "I love you" in the selkie's tongue. It feels important to say it as much as possible.

From:

midship

An echo of the soft sounds follows Archie from the room. It's a blessing that they at least have that much left to them, after all.

The mermaids, usually teasing and cheerful, somber quickly when Horatio greets them. It had been some time since he last asked them for help, but the tension in his features had been easily recognizable even in the dim moonlight.

Their teeth are still frighteningly long. Their fingers are still lightly barbed. Their hunger is still easily whetted by the explanation of why this particular man ought to be dragged to the deep.

In the next few days, Archie will be far more likely to catch a flicker of familiar silvery tails just below the waves.

From:

betteralready

He'll catch sight of the tails. He might, if he has the chance on watch one night, even give the mermaids a quiet wave.

He'll be tense until the ideal night to push Sawyer into the sea comes. Even then, he won't be able to relax until he feels sure Horatio's safe.

From:

midship

He hadn't meant for Henry to be there. That's his one regret.

The night is storming and pitch-dark. The captain is taking his air alone, just briefly, while his toadies remain hidden in the safety below. The glance he shares with Archie has a certain finality to it as Horatio heads up to take his second watch of the night.

And then, far too late to send him back, Henry is all but stuck to his side.

Horatio doesn't mind, of course, being further bound to the midshipman. The devotion already between them isn't tested by the brief flash of violence aboard or the instant turmoil below. The only regret comes as Henry press in against his chest, eyes squeezed shut and body trembling, gasping in breaths in the middle of the storm.

He forces them both to walk the rest of the watch calmly. He forces himself to look woodenly confused when he's asked if he hadn't seen the captain upon his return below.

From:

betteralready

Archie's anxious, but only Horatio will be able to properly tell that. To everyone else the tightness in the lieutenant's expression and shoulders will just look like the strain he's already been carrying their entire journey. It only grows when Horatio's questioned.

At least the man seems to believe Horatio, brushing past the lieutenant quickly to rush back above and try to find the captain. Archie waits a long few moments before drifting over to the selkie.

"You're soaked through, Mr. Hornblower."

Is he okay?

Edited (his maj got to the subject line and i didn't realize) Date: 2018-12-02 03:59 am (UTC)

From:

midship

Henry has to be gently detached and sent off. It's what ought to happen, any other night. It's what ought to happen tonight, so that everyone will faintly remember it when the questions come.

It also leaves Horatio's hand free to just briefly catch a tight hold of Archie's.

Words don't come. Certainly words in the language of men don't come. All he has, for a few moments, is the truth that lingers in his cold fingers clutching to the man he loves.

It will be better once he's changed into something warmer. It will be better once he's lain quietly with the truth in his berth for a few long hours.

From:

betteralready

They can act as normally as they can manage. Archie can gently herd Horatio away into a place quiet and more secluded for a moment to just brush a kiss against the other lieutenant's cheek.

Then, well. Then they have to return to the wardroom. Then they have to act as though everything is fine-- or at least, as fine as things can be while their captain is missing.

Archie still doesn't breathe properly again until the day it's decided that Sawyer went over the side in the night by accident, rather than by anyone's design.

From:

midship

The brief affection helps. It settles something just enough for the strain in Horatio's features to melt into something closer to worry than simple pained exhaustion. It makes the first night pass far more believably--and all the nights that come after are easier to bear.

Still, something stays tense and fretful in his gut until the end of the inquest. That leaves him in a thoughtful sort of quiet, gaze fixed more intently on the waves once they're returned to the ship.

From:

betteralready

He knows that look. Or, well-- He knows something like that look.

It's not entirely safe just yet, but it's safe enough for Archie to slide quietly up next to the selkie.

"You look like you want to go swimming, Mr. Hornblower," he says. To another ear it might sound simply conversational, but to Horatio it likely sounds as gently worried as it actually is.

From:

midship

Part of the ache, of course, is that there truly hadn't been time. Shore leave had always been ideal for slipping briefly back into the waves, stretching himself properly in the comfort of his first home--but not this time, not with the inquest breathing down their necks. Part of the fixation is as simple as that, like any other creature kept trapped too long in a small space when it wanted to roam free.

But part of the ache is much harder to pin down.

"...it could have been Henry."

There had been no question that this needed to happen. There had been no question about risking their own necks, about their slap-dash plan to escape if something like the truth began to come to light.

But it could have been Henry under the inquest's microscope. And that could have erased nearly all the good they had done by solving another problem Horatio's way.

Maybe that was a sign he still didn't quite belong in his adopted home.

From:

betteralready

He wishes he could hold him. He feels like that would help the both of them considerably.

But he can’t hold him. It’s not safe to.

Hopefully the brief but entirely gentle touch to Horatio’s elbow would help, still.

“We wouldn’t’ve let that happen. You would’ve helped him go, if he needed to.”

They both would have, just as Archie is always willing to help Horatio slip into the sea when he needs to.

From:

midship

The touch helps for a moment. The brief contact drags Horatio's gaze properly to the young man, something faintly wild flickering in the back of his eyes before they manage to settle on the lieutenant.

The huff in his throat isn't properly human. The twitch in his shoulders as he tries to keep his attention on Archie isn't either.

"Perhaps."

From:

betteralready

That reaction has Archie frowning properly, studying Horatio’s face and poise as long as he’s allowed. After a moment, he’s going to let his gaze flicker out over the too-quiet sea.

He waits another moment before asking, very softly, “...Do you need to leave?”

From:

midship

"Hm."

It takes a moment to find the words in the language they share. It takes another long quiet moment breathing in the sea before he can force himself to nod.

"For a while. Not sure how long."

From:

betteralready

"'For a while' has t'be forever in the Navy. 'nless you can act like you've gotten caught by someone again, somehow."

Which isn't a prospect he likes at all, for many reasons, and it likely will show in the flicker in his expression if Horatio looks.

From:

midship

Usually, the restraint the Navy imposes on him isn't such a terrible thing. It chafes slightly from time to time, but it's never felt impossibly heavy to bear.

Tonight, it feels like it will drag him to the bottom of the sea and refuse to let him leave.

"How long, do you think?"

Surely he could vanish for the night. Surely he could steal a few hours to himself, when he was meant to be sleeping.

Maybe that would be enough.