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With a nightly parole to walk the stretch of beach outside Ferrol, Horatio rarely glanced out the window, preferring his nightly view without the bars to any he could see between their iron framing. Archie rarely stood by them, assuring Horatio once that though his freedom had been freely given upon returning, he needed no reminders that he was still imprisoned. He spent little time in their room, preferring the courtyard and the Spanish sun.
It was something of a surprise, then, for Horatio to walk into their shared cell and find Archie staring out the window, a hand curled around one of the metal bars, his gaze locked on the sea. Horatio waited as the guard locked the door behind him, assuming Archie must know of his presence if for no other reason than the labored breathing of the guard and the loud clank of his ring of keys.
“Do you miss it,” Archie asked softly, as soon as the guard’s breathing had faded to nothing down the hall.
“The sea?” Archie nodded, and Horatio tilted his head, his eyes on his friend. “I miss the freedom of it. I think parole, for all that it gives me a longer leash, is sometimes crueler than prison walls.”
“Most men would not have the honor you do, Horatio. You’re given freedom daily, you simply do not take advantage of it.”
“I give my word, Archie.”
“Most men…their word is far more fluid than yours.” Archie traces a pattern in the hard rock of the windowsill. “I do not know that, given your opportunities, I would not take advantage of them.”
“If you gave your word, Archie…”
“As I said,” Archie looked at Horatio, a shadow of old pain in his eyes, “with some men, their word is not the bond yours is.”
“I do not believe that of you, Archie.”
“Don’t you?” Archie considered him for a long moment then smiled and shook his head. “No. You don’t. You believe the best of me, and in doing so, bring it out. I think that, if you were not here, Horatio, I would not be the man you ask me to be.”
“I have never asked you to be anything other than what you are, Archie.” Horatio moved to Archie’s cot and sat at the edge of it, his eyes on his friend.
“You ask me to be what you see me as, Horatio. Which, I fear, is not the man I am.” Archie turned his gaze back toward the window.
“I think, Archie, that you don’t see the man you are. You look and you see weaknesses and cracks. The same I see when I look in the mirror. But when I look at you, I see the boy who greeted me about Justinian, a boy who, from the moment of meeting him, I couldn’t not see had suffered. I see the man who escaped four prisons…”
“Only to be recaptured,” Archie reminded him gruffly.
“It is not the capture, Archie. It is the escape. Many men attempt escape. Very few can pull it off, much less four times.” He laughed softly. “An incredible feat, Archie. It takes intelligence and skill and planning and cunning and, what is it they say? The devil’s own luck. You and I? Perhaps we share that, hm?”
“I am nothing like you.”
“No, you’re not. And I’m thankful for it. Because with what we each have, we’re formidable. With what you supply that I cannot and what skills I have that you do not, we shall send the Dons scampering for higher ground.” He smiled shyly, shaking his head. “Besides, if we were too much alike, I imagine we’d make poor cellmates.”
Archie laughed softly. “Always practical, Mr. Hornblower.” He came over and sat on the bed, not far from Horatio, and leaned back against the cell wall, bringing his heels up to rest on the edge of his cot. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”
“I don’t know.” Horatio shifted back, adopting Archie’s pose as his own, the distance between them lessened, his shoulder brushing Archie’s. “It changes, doesn’t it? Had you asked me before the age of seventeen, I would have told you that I wanted nothing more than an education, to be settled in somewhere as a professor of mathematics, living the life of an educator, probably growing into some decrepit miser demanding all my students read the finer points of Euclidean geometry in the original Greek.”
Archie laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt, Mr. Hornblower.”
“Professor Hornblower to you,” Horatio smiled.
“Indeed.” Archie attempted a serious expression, the effect marred by his broad smile. “My most profuse apologies, Professor.”
Horatio shook his head and closed his eyes, settling more comfortably against the stone wall. “Now though…a ship. A sloop or frigate or ship of the line. Something of my own to command.”
“Do you think you’d like that, really?” Horatio looked over as Archie raised an eyebrow, his grin still lingering on his lips. “Who would you defy to carry out the correct course of action if you were in command?”
Horatio huffed a laugh. “I’m sure that somewhere in the chain of command, I would irritate someone.”
“They’re jealous of your genius and strategic abilities.” Archie assured him with a nod. “Perhaps irritated, but only because you have this insufferable habit of being right.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “A ship.”
“Is that what you would want?”
“If I could have anything?” Archie’s eyebrow rose again, though his eyes remained closed. “No. Not that I do not enjoy my time at sea, but, unlike you, I cannot give it my whole heart.”
Horatio turned his head and looked at his friend. “What would you wish for then?”
Archie shifted to meet Horatio’s gaze. “A private showing of Hamlet with all the top actors? A library that does not end and contains no mathematics, save for a few books I keep for when my friend, Horatio, happens by.” He shook his head. “To be…better.”
“Better?” Horatio asked softly, not looking away from Archie. “In what way?” He held Archie’s gaze for a long time in the silence then shook his head. “Archie. You have no need to better.”
“Don’t I?”
“Is this…” Horatio paused for a long moment. “Is this about Jack?”
Archie’s breath caught and he looked away from Horatio, staring down at his hands. They trembled slightly until he bunched them into fists. “You stood up to him.”
“Archie, you were a child when Jack first…when he met you. I was older. And I was miserable and wanted to…I wanted a way out. Challenging him was an easy way to get it.” He reached over and placed his hand over one of Archie’s fists, smoothing his thumb over Archie’s tight knuckles. “You survived Jack Simpson. And you’re stronger for it.” He lifted his hand and caught Archie’s chin, turning his head so they were facing one another again. “Better for it.”
“Better for what he did to me?” Archie’s laugh was incredulous. “How does what he did make me…make anyone better?”
“Let me ask you something.” Horatio paused for a long moment. “If…another man tried that…tried to take advantage of you as Jack did. What would you do?”
“I always hoped I would kill him.” Archie tugged his chin free of Horatio’s grip and averted his gaze. “I would have stood there, you know, just watched him die. Hoped, maybe, that he would beg for mercy, just so I could refuse it.” He turned his head to smile ruefully at Horatio. “I am not, I fear, a nice man.”
“Wishing a fitting end to an…enemy is not so unnatural.”
“But that is not what you asked. You asked what I’d do now. If I discovered such a thing?” He shifted slightly, stretching one leg out. “Would I seek vengeance? Is that your question?”
“What would you do?”
“I think…” Archie rubbed his fingers over his thigh, smoothing them over the worn fabric. “I would report him. Catch him in the act and report him. And make an example of him. Make every man that abuses his power or position or strength know that he will be caught out. Punished.” He turned his hand over and stared at it. “There are men who do what he did to me. Willingly. For pleasure.”
Horatio was silent, nodding only when Archie turned his head to meet his eyes. “Yes.” He watched the strange sorrow in the blue of Archie’s gaze and reached out again, gently touching Archie’s hand, offering friendship, support.
“I wonder sometimes if it true.”
“That they exist?”
“That there’s pleasure. In any of it.”
“Any of…” Horatio carefully stilled his hand, though he didn’t pull it away. “Of that?”
Archie lay his head back against the wall and faced his friend, a slow smile pricking at the corners of his mouth. “I was always somewhere else when he was with me. Somewhere like home or in a book or anywhere. But some nights, when he was drunk or…sometimes it wasn’t…unpleasant. But I don’t know that I have it in me anymore. To feel pleasure.”
“You do. You can still laugh at the world, Archie. You still smile more often than not. You make me laugh. You make me forget that I am overly introverted and too much in my head. You make me human, Archie. You’re my friend. I hope there is some pleasure in that.”
“Given how difficult you can be…” Archie paused for a long moment. Horatio’s face started to fall, only stopped when Archie’s clear laugh rang out. “You give me great pleasure, Horatio. In fact, all the more pleasurable for how difficult it is.” He caught Horatio’s hand in his and squeezed. “In fact, I cannot think of a single man I would prefer to be trapped in a cell with for, potentially, the duration of our lives.”
“You’re either very brave, Mr. Kennedy, or very stupid.” Horatio smiled. “As I have heard tell by someone whose name shall remain unmentioned, I am hell to live with.”
“A wise man, this.” Kennedy smiled in return and got off the bed, looking out the window again. “It’s the little things now, you know. Pleasure’s in the little things. The sunset through iron bars.”
“The pardon that came from the King of Spain setting myself and my men free for bravery?”
“The…” Archie turned from the window, his eyes bright and sharp. “The what?”
Horatio tugged the letter from his jacket and handed it to Archie. “The pardon.”
“You…” Archie fell to the cot again, snagging the paper from Horatio’s hands. He read it, his eyes devouring the page before looking up at Horatio. “You could have mentioned this sooner.”
“If I had, you wouldn’t have told me what was wrong.” Horatio tilted his head and offered Archie a faint smile. “And freedom was there regardless. What was bothering you couldn’t wait.”
“You are hell to live with, Mr. Hornblower.”