DRABBLES
Clayton's Lament
Clayton, Hornblower, Kennedy
[PG] written on the subject of mourning and remembrance
Horatio caresses the orphaned fiddle held firmly against his heart. "I cannot play, Archie." His eyes are dark and wet like the end of a rainy day, and a tear falls from his cheek.
"Nor can I." Archie sighs and gently rubs Horatio's grief into the wood with his own fingers. "Clayton would not mind."
"No," Horatio agrees. Tentatively, he draws the bow over the strings. The single note sounds sad and empty. "But I wish I could play. Something happy."
"We should learn."
Horatio nods absently, then looks at his only living friend. "Yes, Archie. Clayton would like that."
Farewell to a Dream
Bush/Kennedy, Hornblower
[PG] written on the subject of mourning and remembrance
"I wish I had known him longer," William says softly, dropping a white magnolia blossom into the sea.
"Archie considered you a friend."
William lets another blossom slip from his fingers. "I wish I had been a dear friend."
Horatio assesses him, and allows him to take another flower from his own hand.
"I wish…" William begins, tracing the petals with infinite tenderness.
"You sound as though you might have, one day, loved him," Horatio muses sadly.
"I did." William presses a kiss to his last blossom and sends it off. "I do."
Horatio weeps then. For both his friends.
Mourning Air
Hornblower/Pellew
[PG-13] written on the subject of mourning and remembrance, possibly disturbing
Horatio hears Edward's voice on the wind.
'This moment had to come. Don't grieve for me, my darling. You will follow me one day.'
Horatio's heart is like stone in his chest, too hard to break. His eyes are too dry to cry, his lungs too painful to draw breath. How is he to wait for 'one day' when he can scarcely endure one wintery, night-black instant?
"Tell me," he cries. "How am I to live? To laugh and cry and sleep and love without you?"
Edward sighs on the wind, tugging at Horatio's curls. 'Dearest… then come. Join me.'
Unspoken
Hobbs, Wellard
[PG] written on the subject of mourning and remembrance
This is where he lies, ever silent beneath the false cheer of bright, turquoise waves.
One trembling hand clutching at a sun-frayed rope, Hobbs nearly crushes his parchment in the other. He has rolled and unrolled it over and over, never finding quite the right words. Never enough. Never what he truly wants to say.
With a shuddering sigh, he lets the parchment slide from his fingers to flutter to the watery grave below like a mourning wreath. And he wonders… will Henry Wellard ever know all the words left unsaid when he finally settled on 'I am so sorry'.
Privilege
Hornblower/Pellew, Hornblower/others implied
[PG-13] for Innuendo; humour
"I have been his friend for years," Archie declared. "I should get to go."
Styles snorted. "With respect, Mr Kennedy, I've known him just as long, and I work harder."
Matthews chuckled at the apparent non-sequiteur. "Which makes you that much sweatier, Styles. And he trusts me."
"He trusts me more," Wellard chimed in. "He let me in on the mutiny before he told anyone."
"He felt sorry for you." That was Bush. "But face it, I'm more mature than any of you."
"You mean you're older, Sir," Jack Hammond scoffed. "And I'm by far the most beautiful."
The men looked back and forth between Hammond and Wellard and couldn't decide.
"I have been in the Navy the longest time," Buckland muttered under his breath.
Everyone laughed. "Yes, and still you're a lieutenant. Do shut up."
"Gentlemen," came an amused voice from the other side of a large leather armchair, a moment before Admiral Pellew emerged from it to join the gathering. "You put forth excellent arguments, but may I remind you of what is really the deciding factor here?"
Everyone looked curiously at the imposing figure.
"I outrank you all." And with that, Admiral Pellew bid his adieu and marched non-chalantly into the next room, where his lover Horatio awaited.
The Sweetest Dream
Wellard, Hornblower
[G]
"I wasn´t alone." Wellard smiled serenely. "Someone was there with me. And even once I woke up, I still felt cared for."
Horatio smiled. "That sounds like a very nice dream, Mr Wellard."
"Oh, it was, Sir. I felt no pain, and I was floating above the water, and I felt like a hand was reaching for me, so that I would find my way."
"Your way where?"
Wellard sighed. "That I don't know, Sir. But suddenly, I fell into the water, very softly, and I sank, but I could still breathe. It felt wonderful."
Horatio frowned, but Wellard continued, "And then I heard someone play fiddle, Sir. A sweet, gentle soul, and he said he would take care of me."
Horatio went white. "Did he tell you his name?"
Wellard nodded. "Henry, Sir, just like me. Henry Clayton."
Mister Wellard's Initiative
Wellard/Bush
[NC-17] for Innuendo; humour
Bush took a deep, steadying breath. "Uh, yes, Mr Wellard, that would be another use for a sextant."
So praised, Wellard grinned. "Thank you, Sir. You always do encourage us to use our initiative."
Bush chortled. "Well, you certainly show more initiative than your fellow midshipmen, I must say."
"Would you be referring to my handy applicaton of the belaying pin yesterday?"
Bush blushed like a beet. "We had better keep quiet about that, Mr Wellard."
Wellard nodded sagely. Then he recalled something the lieutenant had mentioned to Captain Sawyer. "Mr Bush, I was wondering… what is a spanker boom?"
