When Horatio led Wellard from the doctor's cabin, a hand against the boy's clammy coat, he felt beneath his touch the kind of bone deep, icy fear he remembered all too well from his early Midshipman days.

Horatio's words to Doctor Clive had not been idle talk - beatings such as the ones Wellard had endured were never forgotten. He knew with certainty that it would eat away at the boy's mind as his own punishment years ago had done. He only hoped it would not poison his gentle soul as it was doing to his own even now...

"Are you well, Mister Wellard?" Horatio asked softly, his hand supportively at the small of Wellard's back.

Wellard looked at him sadly and nodded.

They both knew he was not, but there was nothing - at least not then - that anyone could do.

Horatio smiled, hoping he might be able to encourage strength in the young midshipman. "This time will pass, Wellard. I know how hard it is - I have lived through it myself. Both I and Mister Kennedy. It *will* pass. You shall see."

Wellard's brown eyes looked up at Horatio. "Thank you, Sir." His lips trembled. "For your... kindness."

Horatio barely had time to pull Wellard out of the corridor and into a dark storage area before the boy began to sob uncontrollably. "Shh, Mister Wellard..." he murmured, fearful that one of the crewmen might overhear and use the momentary weakness as further incentive to make the young man's life a misery.

Horatio held Wellard's shoulders awkwardly, keeping him at a seemly distance. But it was no good. The midshipman had reached his limits. Comfort was the only thing that would calm him now, not distance.

Drawing Wellard into his arms, Horatio moved them both out of sight of the corridor and behind a few large chests, piled high enough to completely hide them. But he would have to quiet Wellard also, and so he continued to hold him, allowing him to rest his face against his shoulder and cupping the back of his head.

Wellard pressed close, his arms moving around Horatio's middle after only a moment's hesitation. His sobs came with some measure of regularity now - a sign that he was struggling admirably to regain his self-control.

That was well then, Horatio thought. It would not do if they were found like this. And that aside, he did not wish to remain holding Wellard like this for long - he had not missed the longing gazes, the adoring brown eyes resting on him so frequently, the soft blush creeping over the round cheeks whenever their eyes met inadvertently.

Horatio had no wish to see the boy's life endangered further. He had been telling himself that to simply keep him at a safe distance would eventually diminish the childish hero worship. This, however, was not a safe distance at all. He was holding the pretty midshipman in his arms, and he suddenly realized that the sobs had stopped entirely to be replaced by a soft panting, warm breath penetrating his tear-stained shirt where it lay against the side of his neck. And Horatio realized that Wellard had turned his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, luxuriating in it as if it was manna from the gods.

"Mister Wellard, please..." Horatio prompted gently but firmly, his gaze shooting quickly back and forth down the corridor. He was hoping the boy's inherent respect for authority would once more reassert itself and allow them both to withdraw from this embarrassing and even life-threatening situation before it was too late. He was only flesh and blood after all, and Wellard's lithe body felt so perfectly exquisite against his own...

Wellard knew, somewhere underneath the haze of his laudanum-induced state, that what he was doing was wrong, and that it was Lieutenant Hornblower's duty to have him punished most severely. But he didn't care. Punishment at Captain Sawyer's hands had been humiliating and degrading. Anything at all - even punishment - at Hora... Lieutenant Hornblower's wonderful hands would be heaven and he would endure it gladly and without complaint. He would die for the beautiful, courageous officer. And gladly.

"Mister Wellard... Henry..." Horatio spoke softly, his fingers tangling in the reddish brown hair as he tried to pull back Wellard's head. He felt resistance, so he proceeded gently to not hurt the boy.

"You called me by my Christian name..." Wellard whispered, awed. "Sir, thank you, Sir!"

Horatio could not help but smile. "I shall never do so again if you will not keep your distance, Sir."

"But if I do?" Wellard quickly took a reluctant step back, his eyes on fire and his soft red lips burning with his desire to be kissed.

Horatio suppressed a groan. "Perhaps. But..." He noted Wellard's sad expression. "Not in such a public place, Mister Wellard. And it shall be the only indiscretion we will allow to take place between us at any time. Is that understood?"

Wellard's eyes lit up. "Aye Sir. Thank you so much, Sir."

Horatio did not miss the glint in the boy's eyes as it transformed the face of a cherub into that of a mischievous pixie. What did Wellard have on his mind? Horatio narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Wellard looked all innocence again in an instant. "One more thing, Sir?"

He spoke so quietly that Horatio had to lean down towards him to hear him. "Yes?"

"Only this." And Henry Wellard raised his face and quickly, efficiently and wholly unexpectedly planted a kiss on Horatio's lips, succeeding the sweet treat with an equally sweet and rare smile.

Horatio gaped at him, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"I apologize for this momentary weakness, Sir." Henry Wellard lowered his eyes with an excellent semblance of guilt - had it not been for the twitching corners of his pretty mouth. "The laudanum the doctor gave me..."

Horatio cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes. Yes, of course. I quite understand, Mister Wellard."

Henry Wellard smiled directly at his commanding officer now, even his dainty freckles seemingly sparkling with delight. "Most kind of you, Sir." And with that, he turned and hurried down the hall, leaving Horatio to ponder how to deal with his own moment of weakness.