Such pain. Such agony.

His beautiful, still youthful face bears the lines his trying time aboard the Renown has carved into it. More so, it bears the pain of his losses - the loss of a friend being the worst kind of loss after that of a loved one. All that pain has taken a toll on him, taking away every trace of innocence.

He seeks comfort from me and he is right to do so. After all, I have always given him comfort before when...

When he was still onboard my ship. When he had a home on the Indefatigable as much as in my heart. The latter, at least, can never be taken from us, not even by the Admiralty which has appointed me his judge and, very nearly, his executioner.

A terrible irony, and yet, perhaps in part his salvation, and mine. For had anyone else judged him - anyone who lacked the knowledge of his gentle soul and saw only what lay on the surface - he might be dead now. And so, as surely as the sun will rise in the morning, would I.

Clutching his orders, he stands there, somewhat shocked by this turn of events, disgusted even that he should emerge from this tragedy with a promotion. I cannot begin to imagine how that fool Hammond could have ever thought him so ruthless and ambitious that he would abandon his humanity. But of course, Hammond does not know him as I do.

"I wish you..." I begin, suddenly aware of the distance our time of separation has put between us. Alas, it is not a distance which makes us strangers or lessens our love for one another - no, I can still see that love in his eyes, as I am certain he can in mine. But our time apart has made us more cautious and more aware that if we do not keep this enforced distance, we may never be able to let go of each other again.

The first time, it hurt worse than a musket wound to the heart. More than the loss of a limb or even one's very soul could ever hurt. He had been torn from me without either of us having any choice in the matter. War was like that. The Admiralty was like that. His Majesty's Forces were like that. There was nothing, short of taking our own lives, that we could have done about it.

Were we to be that close again and once more separated, it would be the end of me. Perhaps of him as well. He is strong, but I remember the depth and intensity of his love all too well; I fear he would not survive it anymore than I.

He looks at me now with a plea in his beautiful eyes. Damn him, but it is not fair to look at me this way, when he must surely know I cannot say what I really mean. I cannot tell him that I wish he was once again by my side, standing tall beside me in battle, sharing my bed and every single unobserved moment we can steal in the day. I cannot tell him that. For the sake of his sanity, and my own.

"I wish you... a safe voyage," I say instead, and I know how hopelessly insufficient that is. His eyes tell me how much I am hurting him. But what can I do? What can I say that will not cause us both more pain still?

He is silent. His lips are parting and I know he may say something that will undo us both. Perhaps he is about to tell me that he still loves me, that he would give up his promotion, his advancement, for me, simply to be with me again. Even if I could allow that - and I cannot - we would not be able to be together as we both wish to be.

I turn away and leave. Quickly. I nearly run from the cell, fear of what he might say if I do not spurs me on. And I hear his half-whispered words drifting through the bars separating us now, like a random breeze of summer air on a cold winter morning - not enough to warm the world.

"Thank you, Sir," he says, and I need not turn to see the tears in his eyes or the trembling of his lips as he clutches his orders, wishing he could exchange them for my heart.

Foolish darling - he ought to know by now that my heart will always be his. Have I neglected to tell him since we met again? Oh dear God!

A soft knock on my door startles me from my paperwork.

I was about to retire, so overwrought and exhausted was I from the events of the past few days. I asked the steward to keep any disturbances away from me unless it was an emergency, finding it hard enough to sleep in port without the soothing sway of the open sea beneath.

To say nothing of sleeping with my love so near, yet worlds away.

With the vision of his sad eyes only a few hours old, I become lost in my thoughts in an instant, and the now more insistent knocking resumes.

"Sir?" The voice is unmistakable, even through the thick wooden door. The most missed, best remembered, and dearest voice in the world to me.

"Enter," I call out, hearing the trembling in my own voice as my conscience and good sense tell me to refuse him entrance. But I could do so no more than I could refuse to let air into my lungs.

He enters the room with his gaze lowered, his hat tucked under his arm and his coat not quite buttoned up perfectly.

No matter. He has been through much lately, and there is no Admiralty in my cabin to observe protocol. No one, in fact, to watch over our words and actions. Fear mingled with a painful desire grip my throat and chest in an iron grasp.

"What is it you wish, Commander Hornblower?" I ask sharply, hoping and yet fearing that my tone might deter him from what is on his mind - on both our minds - this night.

"I wish to speak with you, Commodore, if I may." His voice, in spite of his obvious anxiety, is level and strong.

He has learned to be most insistent indeed, and once again, I find myself proud of him. I clear my throat. "You have an early start in the morning, Sir. Should you not be getting plenty of sleep?"

His eyes meet mine, and for an instant, I see that innocence there again. The very same innocence that was my undoing years ago, on a night much like this one. Even the moon was much like this one, boldly caressing his sweet face right through the stern windows of my ship. And I know I felt then much as I do now. I am done for.

"I could not possibly contemplate sleep, Sir." His voice is close to breaking, and I fear that like all those years ago, he has come to me for comfort. It is not fair - I could never deny him that.

I attempt to steer us into safer waters. "A promotion is always an exiting event, Commander, but I should think that with your esteemed record, you are used to it by now." I smile at him, hoping my words carry some of the lightness I hoped to endow them with.

But his eyes remain serious and his beautiful lips do not curve into an answering smile. I am suddenly aware of how grown up he is now, how far removed from being the naive youth who first came into my service. No, he has become a strong, willful man who knows precisely what he wants; the thought makes my heart pound almost painfully.

"Sir..." he begins, clearing his throat. "Sir, it is not the promotion which excites me."

"Mister Hornblower..." I can hear the trembling in my voice. "I must ask you to speak no further. You are embarking on a treacherous course, Sir, and I fear we are not in a sturdy enough boat."

He steps closer, laying his hat down on the table. "I have always found it is not the vessel that matters, but the Captain who commands her."

"Please," I beg him, knowing that I do not have the heart to order him from my cabin.

"You cannot leave me so, Sir," he says softly, and a moment later, he is right in front of me. "We have shared too much. Share it still. Please, do not send me away this night."

He has become direct and to the point. Perhaps if that was not so, I might be able to dissuade him from this venture, but... would I wish it? Would *I* have the strength?

"I fear that..." I begin, needing to turn away from him. "That if we give in to our desires now, Sir, our separation will be all that much harder to bear come daylight."

He is sighing, and I can tell he stands closely behind me. Close enough to touch. If I was to turn now...

His hand is on my shoulder, and the light touch sends a shiver through me with the memories it carries of other, more intimate caresses.

"My dearest Edward..."

I reach to cover his hand with my own. "Horatio..." I whisper, and I hear the desire in my voice.

He moves around to stand in front of me, but his hand remains beneath my own. Then he smiles, and I capitulate.

It has been far too long since I have looked upon his beautiful face. His eyes are filled with all the love in the world, and I am his. Again. Always.

"How I have missed you!" I exclaim, grasping his hand and raising it to my lips before pressing a tender kiss to it.

He ducks his head and when I raise my face again, he catches my lips with his own.

We kiss with a passion more furious even than it used to be in the early days. We kiss as if we need each others' lips for sustenance.

And then, we melt into each other, rolling passion turning into calm tenderness - a tenderness mixed with tears of the same longing, hope and loneliness which has had both of us in its grasp for too long.

And an instant later, we are on my bed, in each others' arms, clinging to one another as if we'd never been apart. And in our hearts, we never have. And never will.

God only knows what tomorrow will bring. After this night, for which I have lived too many long months to count, I for one will not care if there is no tomorrow.