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Watching You	By : Crystalwren Category: G through L > Horatio Hornblower Views: 1560 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Horatio Hornblower, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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'Hornblower' was created by C.S. Forester and licensed by A&E.

NOTE: This is actually a very old fic, so my apologies for any stylisation errors. I also apologise that I cannot remember who exactly did the beta�ing for it either. Give me a few weeks and I should be able to figure it out, so right now I�ll just thank all of the fine ladies at Sailslash for their support and excellent advice.

WARNING: Not nice. Character death. No graphic sex, either.

Hardly seems worth the effort when I put it like that.

WATCHING YOU I- ARCHIE

I�m watching you, you bastard.

Do not think that I don�t know what you are up to. What you are planning. What is going on behind that impassive Captain�s statement worn over your features like a mask. Because I do know. People see my almost-pretty face and they assume that I am an innocent, a girl-faced boy-child, unknowing in the world. But I have been at sea ever since I was twelve years old. A crowded naval ship is the perfect breeding group for predators, the perfect place for them to hide and hunt; oh yes, I know a predator when I see one. Indeed, I have become almost an expert in identifying them. After spending so many years being a victim, it is almost a survival trait. I should be relieved that after so many years having to hide, to sleep lightly lest someone come, that for once I am not the target. But strangely, I feel even worse. Perhaps it is because this potential victim is a true innocent, someone unlikely to be able to survive the inevitable abuse. Perhaps this is the reason that my stomach churns and dread sits in my belly like a cold, leaden weight. Or perhaps it is merely because Horatio is my friend, and I fear for him.

Tell me, Captain Pellew, tell me what you see in him. Is it the soft brown hair, the even softer brown eyes? The pale skin, the long, delicate hands? The high cheekbones and sculpted mouth? The long, lean body? The sheer unearthly beauty of the man?

Tell me, what makes you want him?

What makes you watch him?

What will it take for you to stop?

It is almost unbearable. Every time he succeeds, every time he manages to pull off yet another incredibly brave and stupid stunt, your eyes gleam and your eyes darken with a savage and possessive pride. Your hands twitch, making little aborted movements towards him. You want so badly to touch him, don�t you? Thankfully, these tense and longing moments that you and he share are always above deck, in full view of the crew. That is enough to restrain your impure lusts, I think. For the time being at least. I have not doubt that you will yield to them eventually. Weak and twisted creatures such as you often have little self-control. That you have lasted so long without yielding is a credit to you, a credit to yourself as a captain. For you are a fine captain, Captain Pellew. It is a great shame that you are such an abject failure as a human being and as a man. I will never forgive you for that. Tales of the great Captain Pellew were all that kept me going in the dark times, the times that I endured aboard the Justinian. I�ll never forgive you for failing me so abysmally. It is like dreaming of meeting the King himself, and when you finally do you see that he is just a fat, balding man with trembling limbs and a sweating face. It is a terrible thing to find the man, the hero, that you worship is little better than a depraved sodomite. I will never forgive you for not living up to my expectations.

I will never forgive you for coming between me and my one and only friend.

Before Horatio stumbled into my life, white-faced and trembling and seasick, I�d never had a real friend. I got on well enough with my fellow midshipmen aboard the Justinian, but I was never close to any of them. They were all too afraid that Simpson�s attentions would somehow rub off on them, that any sort of kindness on their part would result in attracting his notice, and none of them were prepared to undergo that. Clayton was the only one inclined to even show me the simple kindness of acknowledging my existence, but I am afraid I had little time for his brand of help. The man was a drunken coward, and I cared little for him. The only thing that stirred my emotions on him either way was my abject terror that one day I would wake up and find out that I was just like him: beaten, broken, spirit washed away and gone in innumerable sips of mind-numbing liquor. Even when Simpson left us in peace for a time to try for his Lieutenants� exam he did not change. He stayed exactly the same. It was only when Horatio came that some element of unbroken spirit rose in Clayton, prompting the pathetic wreck of a man to fatally defy Simpsons� power over him. Horatio has that effect on people, I�m afraid. He did the same to me too. He convinced me, who was as equally pathetic and broken as Clayton, to live again. He has done everything for me. He stood up to Simpson for me; he pulled me out of that Godforsaken Spanish prison into the bright and burning light of day. He even managed to get Simpson killed, something I had been trying to do for years and had obviously never had much success at.

And now, you have ruined it all. Bastard. Sodomite. A predator of young and innocent men in your care- dare I say service? You, twisted and loathsome being, have managed to come between me and probably the only person whom I have ever really cared for, and more incredibly, cares for me in turn. You see, I warned him about you. I told him how you had been watching him. About the way you look at him. The way your hands clench into fists at the sight of him, trying desperately to restrain yourself from touching him.

He hit me.

Horatio Hornblower, the most kindest, most gentlest, most honourable man I have ever met. My only friend in the world and on the sea, hit me. Struck me hard enough across my jaw to bruise, for my teeth to snap together and catch my tongue in between and fill my mouth with the foul copper taste of blood. Afterwards, I lay there and just stared at up at him in astonishment. I could not believe that he had struck me, and by the stunned look in his eyes he had trouble believing it also. He stormed away, with my slurred and painful attempts to call him back ringing in both our ears. He did not talk to me for days after that. He met my words of apology with looks of shame and horror and finally the retreat of his back. I slunk around the Indy like I had heard my best friend had died and left me- the analogy is very close to the truth. Eventually, we seemed to met some sort of unspoken, mutual agreement and slowly we began to talk to each other again.

But the damage is done.

Horatio is simply incapable of believing any ill of you, so enamoured and worshipful is he. He would rather believe ill of me, his closet friend, than ill of his beloved captain. He simply does not know about the masks a predator can hide behind. His only experience of evil was with Simpson, and Simpson certainly never bothered with concealing his true nature. He was more about brute strength and power; there was never any finesse about him. But you, my captain, are the very soul of finesse. It is obvious that where Simpson would rape and pillage, you would prefer to seduce. And in my soul I know that the seduction of Horatio would do far more damage than a rape ever would. Horatio is my friend. It is my duty to protect him, and protect him I will. I will not give you a chance to seduce my friend, Captain Pellew. Seduction requires time and privacy, and I will not give you that. I am going to stay close to Horatio. I am not going to give him a second alone. Every step he takes, any movement in any direction will not be undertaken without my presence. Horatio is an intelligent man, but his innocence blinds him. He will not see what I am doing, and even if he does see it is unlikely that he will be able understand why. I cannot stop you from watching him, but I can stop you from coming for him. And if that does not work, if you decide that you can ignore my presence long enough to simply take what you want, there is another option I can use.

I can offer you myself.

I know that I am not unattractive to your type. Simpson was not the only man who has wanted me; he was simply the only one whom I could not refuse or fight against. And against my will he taught me a great many tricks, nauseating and perverse to be sure, but good enough to please a man who�s tastes run that way. I can use those tricks on you, Captain. I do not delude myself when I say that I can make you forget all about Horatio. The thought of what I would have to do frightens and sickens me, almost as much as Simpson ever did. But I will do it. I will protect Horatio. I will protect him from you because he is something that is pure and unsullied, and these qualities are rare enough in this dark and bitter world. But above and beyond this, I will protect him because he is my friend, and he is worth doing anything for.

He is worth it.

END OF PART ONE
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