Beloved

"Beloved, I am coming home to you."

Commodore Sir Edward Pellew held the single page loosely in his hand, stunned by its contents. It had arrived only a few moments before, brought by special messenger from the Admiralty, included in a packet of official dispatches. Leafing through them he had immediately spotted the familiar handwriting on the address. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and his knees seemed to lack the strength to support his weight as he had realized what he held in his hands. He had broken the wax seals and now stared at the incredible words.

"Beloved, I am coming home to you. I am on the Tonnant enroute to Portsmouth and expect to arrive within the fortnight. Forgive the brevity of this, but the tender waits to take the dispatches. I love you. H. "

He had to read them again before the words stopped swimming enough for him to make sense of the message they contained and before he could believe they actually said what he had prayed for without hope for week after week.

The last eight months had been a living hell for Edward. The first reports reaching England stated that ship of the line HMS Sutherland, captained by Horatio Hornblower, and had been forced aground on the shores of France during a battle with three French Corvettes. After destroying two of the enemy ships she was badly damaged and had less than half of her men still alive. She had surrendered. The surviving officers and crew were taken prisoner and were being held in a French prison. As word continued to leak out of Paris, it was learned that Hornblower was to be transported to the French capital and there executed for war crimes. The Admiralty believed the sentence had been carried out months ago. Pellew himself had been at Admiralty House when his lover had been officially declared dead, another good officer lost to the cause.

Knowing of their long friendship, if not of it's exact nature, the Naval officials in charge of such things had asked him for current information concerning next of kin and friends who should be notified. Sir Edward had told them that he would be honored to take charge of the formalities for them. Grateful to have one more distasteful chore delegated away, his offer had been quickly accepted. Pellew knew that Horatio had no family left; his parents were both long dead and that he had been an only child. There were only friends to be told. Most were sure to read of the loss in the Naval Chronicle, the rest would hear by word of mouth. He wouldn't concern himself with the many acquaintances Horatio had made over the years. They would hear, and grieve, but they would also be used to the constant loss of war. They would be saddened, perhaps raise a glass, and get on with their lives. Such things were common enough in wartime.

It was Edward who was unable to climb out from under the cloud of loss and depression that had descended on him when the first reports started arriving. Horatio was his lover, yes, but he had also been his closest friend. Almost everything in their lives was shared between them. In certain circles that was common, if closely guarded, knowledge. What so very few had understood was the depth of their feelings for each other. When their affair first started, Edward had thought that it would only last for a short while, a matter of months, if he were that lucky. The differences, he believed, were simply too large for them to overcome, no matter how great the attraction between them might have been. He was over twenty years older than Hornblower. They had the barriers of rank, class, experience, and social position. Pellew was a wealthy man, Hornblower almost penniless. In addition, Pellew had always believed with a sad certainty that the time would come when Horatio would simply tire of him; wish to move on to someone nearer his own age and background.

One evening, lying before the fire together, he had said as much. Horatio's response had surprised him. It had been early enough in their relationship that Horatio could still be hampered by shyness. He had been so astounded and hurt by Edward's thoughts that he had only been able to answer simply and quietly, "How can you think that of me? You are my life." The idea that Edward believed his feelings to be transitory or fleeting, that Edward seemed not to understand just how he felt, had cut Horatio to the quick. Remembering the many times he had told the Captain how much he loved him and thinking that Edward had taken his declarations merely as empty words had been agonizing for him. That he had not known how Horatio had worshiped him almost from the day he'd first laid eyes on him aboard the Indy and that he could not imagine ever being with anyone else had caused intense suffering. The hurt Edward had caused in underestimating Horatio's feelings for him had lasted for months. That night, as they lay together in the large canopied bed they shared, Edward had reached his hand over to Horatio's shoulder in a gentle caress. He felt Horatio's arm pull away under his fingers and heard a quiet "…I'm tired…" Rebuffed, he had kissed the shoulder and settled back on his own side of the mattress. It had been the first time they had ever slept together without making love. The next day Horatio had returned to the Indy alone. It was months before they had healed the rift and regained the feeling of trust and safety between them again. For a long time after it had been intensely difficult for Horatio to be open with Edward, both in and out of their bed. He couldn't help but doubt whether Edward truly believed anything that he told him.

Finally aboard the Indy over two months later, Horatio had finished his watch report to Edward and was dismissed. These daily reports had become agony for both men, the forced proximity difficult to bear. Instead of leaving, Horatio remained standing where he was. Edward turned to him from his desk. "Is there something else, Lieutenant?" Horatio dropped his eyes and quietly sighed "Edward… please." Pellew rose to face Horatio and they had looked at each other for a long moment. Tentatively, Horatio put a hand up to Edward's cheek. He leaned into the caress and kissed Horatio's palm. They explored each other's faces with their fingers and then with their lips and finally fully embraced.

The pain of that estrangement had not been forgotten by either of them.

What Pellew hadn't counted on, nor expected, was how deeply they would fall in love. He'd had no idea how dependent he would become on Horatio. He'd come to count on his intelligence, his perceptions, his competence as a trusted officer and advisor, his kindness and generosity, and even more so (God help him!) on the tender look on Horatio's face as they made love. Edward had always prided himself on his strength and iron will, never needing another person in his life. He was the perfect solitary captain, never allowing his officers to become close; it was too painful and lonely when they were lost to battle or transfer. To realize that he would sit listening for another's footstep in the hallway or become anxious if the dispatch bag failed to contain a letter from his lover amazed him. Horatio had allowed Edward to open himself to another way to live his life. He now could permit a selected few inside his solitude. What Horatio had given him was something that he would never be able to take for granted. And he knew that the times when he could be with his lover were the happiest in his life.

They had been together for almost fifteen years. Horatio had been a newly minted Lieutenant and Edward a senior Captain when they had first discovered that the feelings they had for each other were mutual. Horatio had once joked that he often felt that they were like an old married couple together, sitting by the fire, having close friends around for dinner and cards then retiring upstairs to their bed for the night. And so they had come to think of themselves.

There had, of course, been separations. With both of them officers in His majesty's Navy during wartime, being apart was the norm, rather than the exception, but they wrote often and occasionally had managed to meet in foreign ports. Somehow, the separations hadn't weakened their relationship. Somehow they seemed to become closer each time they were together.

One of Edward's dearest memories of their being together had occurred in Kingston in the two weeks they had managed together after the debacle surrounding the Renown. Horatio's field promotion to Commander had been approved. Knowing that such niceties were unavailable in the backwaters of the Indies, on their final night together Edward had given him a small present.

"I was hoping that you'd do me the honor of wearing these."

Horatio had looked with disbelief at the two items in his hand; a pair of Edward's own epaulets.

The smile of happiness and love on Horatio's face was as beautiful as anything he had ever seen

"I'll feel like you will always be guarding me, love. I'll treasure them."

Edward knew that he still often wore that same pair.

There had been times when they'd been able to arrange months of leave together, spent in Edward's homes in London or Portsmouth or, Horatio's favorite, the small cottage along the southern coast. There they could do as they wished without concern that they were being watched or seen. They could forget about formalities and Edward's obligations to society. Horatio always seemed to blossom under the freedom and Edward reveled in his happiness. Horatio tended to be too serious, unable to shed his duties and responsibilities.

One night after a particularly vigorous, prolonged and imaginative bout of lovemaking in which Horatio had very much taken the lead, Edward was startled to feel his lover, lying quite heavily atop him and still catching his breath begin to shake with laughter. "So, do you still think of me as 'the boy'?" After that, almost any reference to a 'boy', even in the most innocent of contexts, was enough to reduce them both to smirks. To see Horatio so openly happy was Pellew's greatest joy.

After the formal declaration of Horatio's death, Edward had retreated into himself, unable even to arrange the expected memorial service. That task had fallen to their friend the Earl of Edrington. He had done everything that he could think of to ease Edward's torment, but though Edward was aware of his friend's concern, he couldn't accept the comfort that was offered. There could be no comfort for him, other than in his lover's arms, and that was now impossible. After a while, even the Earl had left him alone, concluding that was what he truly wanted. Close friends knew he was suffering, but were unable to breach the walls of pain that he had erected around himself.

With Horatio's death, Edward began to die. He had suffered loss before, many times, but he had always been able to mourn and then move on. This time, he had been unable to do so. The pain was just too great. He had stopped going out, stopped seeing anyone. He no longer ate well and it was rare for him to sleep through the night. Friends worried about him and did what they could, but he resisted all of their efforts telling them that he was fine and that he preferred his own company at present. Finally, when friends came to call they were informed that Sir Edward was not receiving visitors and they would leave.

"Beloved, I am coming home to you."

For the first time since the horrible reports had reached him, Sir Edward began to feel like the Commodore he was. He could feel his strength flowing back into him. He felt as if he had finally awakened from a nightmare to a brilliant summer morning. Calling for the butler he informed him that the Captain would be home soon, so please tell Cook to have all of his favorite dishes available. Oh, and be sure that all of his clothes are freshly washed and pressed. Change the bed and be sure that the bath is ready the instant he arrives, right in front of the fire, where he prefers. Have some of the best Port decanted and all his mail should be set out for him where he can see it when he's ready and …and…well…. whatever you can think of that he'd like, man! As the man left, Pellew could hear orders being given and the servants moving about the house to do his bidding. Horatio was a favorite with all of them, and they had all felt joy leave the house with his loss.

He smiled with sheer happiness. Looking at the letter more closely, he noted with a start that the date was almost two weeks old. Good Lord! If Horatio was expecting to be in Portsmouth in a fortnight, he was due any day now. With an energy that no one had seen from him in months he called for his valet to ready his uniform immediately. He would go to the Port Admiral at once and find what news of the Tonnant. Had She been sighted? The winds had been fair for weeks now. Where, in the name of God was She? What were the circumstances of Horatio's escape? Had he been injured? Well, he'd be nursed back to the best of health and with the best doctors in England if he had the smallest scratch, he'd see to that! Was he well? How could he be? He'd been in prison. He'd have been starved and possibly beaten and God only knew what horrors he had endured! The loss of his ship alone would be enough to ruin many officers. Worse even than the loss of the ship, the loss of half of his men would haunt the strongest of commanders. Since his incarceration in Spain all those years ago, Edward knew what a dread Horatio had of spending time in any confined space. He would need care and good food. He would need to be petted and made much over and he would, thank God! be home!

The Sutherland had been destroyed. Edward knew that meant a Court of Inquiry and a mandatory court marshal to determine the circumstances of the ship's loss. If Horatio were found to have been at fault or in any way derelict in his duty as Captain, he would be severely dealt with. The thought gave Edward pause, but he quickly shrugged it away. Horatio was incapable of being derelict in his duty. It was not possible. He would be cleared, and quickly, too. Edward would be there to see it happen and would, if necessary, add his own testimony as to Hornblower's abilities. There would be no trouble on that score, to be sure!

He turned quickly as he heard the door to his study open, expecting to see one of the servants. Instead he heard the quiet voice and saw the tall figure of his beloved.

"Edward."

He stared as Horatio entered the room, knowing that he should cross the floor to at the very least embrace him. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, gripping the back of the chair in front of him as the only thing keeping him from falling. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't believe the evidence of his own eyes. He simply stared as if at a ghost. As Horatio crossed the carpet to his beloved, Edward saw that the ragged uniform, apparently mended on the voyage home, was beyond salvage and needed replacing. He saw the gaunt cheeks and the pallor of Horatio's skin. He saw the exhaustion and the strain and the sadness. But most of all, he saw the eyes, the dark brown eyes that he had always found so beautiful. Twin pools of calm, he had once called them. They held such pain. They told the story of loss and defeat and failure. He had never seen such agony in another's face. It was awful to see. Edward knew that he was about to break down in front of Horatio; something that he had never done in all their time together and he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it happening. All the months of grieving without a body to bury, having to hide the depth of his loss from nearly everyone he met finally overwhelmed him and he sobbed uncontrollably in Hornblower's arms.

Despite his resolve to comfort and heal and give Horatio whatever he needed, Edward found that he was the one being held, being gently kissed and stroked, having his hair lightly smoothed; his cheeks were the ones being tenderly kissed dry. He was the one hearing the gentle, crooning, meaningless words bringing comfort and restoring calm. When he could finally compose himself enough to look at Horatio closely he saw that the gentle smile he had thought that he would never see again was replaced with a look of distress.

The anguish in Horatio's face was real as he took note of the deep lines on Pellew's face and saw his once dark hair now gone almost completely gray, knowing that he was the likely cause.

"Oh God, forgive me for causing you this pain, Edward. Forgive me for putting you through this. I can't bear what you've had to endure because of me. You thought me dead, I know. I wanted to tell you that I was alive, I tried, but the French wouldn't let us send out any messages. Even when I was condemned they wouldn't let me sent any letters. God, Edward, I'm so sorry for what you've suffered on my account."

Edward steadied himself and, arms still around the slim body of his lover, managed a weak smile. It was so like Horatio to worry about him when he was the one in need. Somehow, Horatio had never really believed that he was worthy of Edward, that he was worthy of being cared for and worried over or of being loved. No matter how many times Edward told him of his feelings, the many reasons for his deep love for him, Horatio could not trust in himself to believe that Edward could want him over anyone else. At times over the years Edward found this charming, at other times it had nearly driven him to distraction. Finally, he had simply come to accept it as part of Horatio, although it saddened Edward to know he held himself in such low regard. Standing on a quarterdeck he was the very model of a confident and capable officer. When he was alone with his lover he could show his fears. Since Hornblower had joined the service he had been marked as extraordinary. It was obvious to everyone but himself.

"Love, having you back with me is worth whatever I may have endured to have you returned. When I heard that you were lost, I lost myself as well. Now we're both returned, don't you see? You from France and me from the abyss."

Horatio's sad smile was back at hearing Edward's words. With a sigh that betrayed his exhaustion, he tightened his arms around his love and rested his head on Edward's shoulder. Feeling that Horatio was nearing the end of his strength, Edward gently said "Sweeting, I've had the servants prepare a bath for you and afterwards you'll have one of Cook's specialties, as much as you can eat! The kitchen has been ablaze since word arrived that you'd soon be home. You know that Cook's mission in life is to finally fatten you up. (At this, Horatio smiled, he knew this well.) Then I'll put you into our bed and you will sleep in my arms as long as you wish. When you are ready you will tell me how you came to escape and come back to me."

"Yes, love. I've been dreaming of a hot bath, but only if you'll sit with me. There is so much I need to tell you." Horatio's look told Edward that there was, indeed, much Horatio needed to say and he gently answered "As much and as soon as you want, dear."

While Horatio was in the bath, lulled by the warmth and the scented oils mixed into the water and being gently washed and caressed, he slowly began to relax. As Edward gently, tenderly washed and caressed every part of the beloved body under his hands, Horatio was finally able to start believing that he was, indeed home. He lay silently with his eyes closed. His only movement was the quiet rise and fall of his chest as he allowed his lover to care for him. Gently kneading the pale skin, Edward was appalled at how thin he was. Tenderly removing the ribbon tying his queue, Pellew carefully brushed the tangled hair. It was longer than Horatio usually wore it, well below his shoulders, and painfully knotted. When it was finally combed clear it was tenderly washed. As his fingers massaged Horatio's neck and shoulders he could feel the stress knotting the muscles and did what he could to relieve them. Tense muscles finally began to release for the first time in months and Horatio started to feel clean, or at least less dirty than he had been for a long time. As Edward came around the side of the tub to add more warm water, Horatio reached a hand partly towards him, looking at him with his great eyes, silently begging to be loved. Tenderly, Edward put a hand on Horatio's thin cheek and carefully leaned in for an agonizingly tender kiss; their first in over a year. Horatio seemed to need this more than anything else…more than food or rest. He needed to know that their love was still intact after the Hell they had both been through. They continued to gently kiss each other, occasionally deepening their kisses and sometimes merely brushing their lips along each other's face and jaw and neck. It was all that they wished from each other at that point. More would come later, but for now it was enough to know that they could touch and love and comfort each other.

Clean and dried and wrapped in a warm robe, Edward had led him to the table set by the fire where the butler had placed their food. Although he had been fed well on the ship coming home, Horatio had been ravenously hungry and few words were exchanged during the meal. Afterwards, finally, Edward had coaxed him into the large bed they had shared for years, knowing that there was where Horatio would feel safe enough to tell the story that he so desperately needed to get out.

The story that Horatio had finally told Edward was chilling, even for a man as experienced in battle as Edward. Lying in his arms, Horatio began to tell how his ship had been engaged and outnumbered by the French. How he had used every scrap of fighting knowledge at his disposal only to see his ship blown to pieces in front of his eyes and, even worse, hundreds of his crew, men who had followed and trusted him wounded, bleeding and dead around him. Horatio's descriptions of the carnage were worse than Edward would have thought possible. When finally he knew that to continue fighting would only cause the death of his remaining men, he had ordered the lowering of the Ensign. He described the looks on the faces of his men as he had ordered their surrender and as they watched him hand over his sword. That he took the loss entirely as his own failure was obvious. He could not, would not fault his men and his pain at this failure was almost beyond enduring.

The words flowed quietly and without emotion, almost by rote. A bloodless retelling. He had gone over the incidents so often since they had happened that he might as well have been reciting a history lesson. Any more would have been too much for Horatio to bear. He had flayed himself raw over these events countless times. The scars he carried were deep.

They had been taken to a French prison. Because of his rank he had been treated reasonably well, but had numerous run ins with the prison authorities over the care of his crew, particularly the wounded, who were dying through neglect. All requests to send word home to his sailors' families had been refused. After several months he had been informed that he had been found guilty of High War Crimes and was to be transported to Paris to face the guillotine. He had found himself loaded into a closely guarded coach and on his way to the French capital.

His escape he glossed over quickly, unwilling to take any credit that he felt was undeserved, saying only that he was fortunate to be able to take advantage of a lucky combination of careless guards, icy roads and the arrogance of the officer in charge of his transport. Edward didn't press him, thinking how typical that his natural modesty caused him to underplay his achievement in outstripping his guards. After he had eluded his captors he knew that he must quickly find shelter. France was cold in winter and the snow was deep. He had happened upon a barn but had been discovered and taken before the owner of the Chateau it served. Unexpectedly, he was a man who did not support the new French regime and willingly had given Hornblower aid, hiding him for months until spring when his return to England would be easier. Saying only that he was a gentleman and an aristocrat whom he was proud to be able to call a friend, Horatio was reluctant to give the man's name, even to Edward, knowing that if his identity became known he would be killed. Edward understood his caution and urged him on with his story.

With the arrival of spring he had taken a small boat provided by his savior. Horatio had managed to make the coast of France by slowly following streams and rivers to the sea, posing as an idle fisherman out for a few days holiday. He had occasionally returned greetings from people on the shore but had not been questioned by anyone and his plan worked surprisingly easily.

Once at sea he had simply headed for the English coast, hoping that he would come across an English ship and that his French would be acceptable if he encountered the enemy. The Tonnant had spotted him, although he had some trouble convincing them of his identity, despite the fact that he was by then wearing his uniform coat. The officer of the watch, a young Midshipman, had insisted that Captain Hornblower was dead and he had insisted that he was, in fact, alive. That he had obviously won the argument made Edward smile as he pictured the scene. Although Horatio was known as being a remarkably polite Captain (and many most certainly were not!), he was also known as something of a stickler for protocol. To have a Midshipman, of all crewmembers, question his identity would not be a lesson that particular Mid soon forgot.

After the Captain of the Tonnant had been told who the stranger claimed to be, the man had come on deck himself and had ruined what was left of the Mid's day by loudly exclaiming "My God, Hornblower! You're looking markedly well for a man whose funeral I attended!"

After he had given his report and had it copied in triplicate for the Admiralty he had been treated as an honored guest. He had been allowed to write the note to Commodore Pellew, his old friend, knowing that a personal letter from a Post Captain to a Commodore was unlikely to be opened by anyone else. He realized that he was taking a chance in his choice of words, but as he told Edward with a sigh "It was what was in my heart and no other words would come, my love".

When The Tonnant had arrived in Portsmouth two days ago, he had immediately been taken to the Port Admiral and questioned about the events concerning the loss of The Sutherland and Her crew. He had been honest and straightforward in his answers and had been informed that he was to face Court Marshal the next day. It was being held in haste in an effort to avoid the expected crowds, which would otherwise occur with a Captain as popular as Hornblower in the docket. Horatio had asked that the Commodore not be informed as to the timing of the trial, knowing that he was stretched to his limit and simply could not have borne seeing Edward had the verdict gone against him.

Earlier that day the Court Marshal, as promised, had taken place. There were the expected three Flag Rank Officers to hear the evidence both for and against Captain Hornblower. It had all taken less time than one could eat a leisurely dinner. After all the evidence had been presented the judges had retired to consider their decision. As Horatio's sword was still in French hands after his surrender, the Captain of The Tonnant had lent his for the occasion. How Horatio had managed to walk into the Court Room when he had been summoned after they had reconvened, he would never be able to recall. If the sword was placed on the table with the point toward him, he was found guilty, if the handle was what faced him, he was cleared. It was Navy tradition.

Barely breathing, he had looked at the table.

The handle was pointed in his direction. He was free to go.

Before the Court was dismissed the Admiral in charge addressed Hornblower before the other officers present. He was an exemplary servant of the King, one any Navy would be proud to call their own. He had done everything that could have been done to save his ship and his crew against overwhelming odds. His ingenuity and resourcefulness in escaping the enemy was remarkable. He was to be commended for his actions and so the record would show.

The court Room fairly exploded with congratulations for Horatio as he tried not to sag into a chair with relief.

As soon as was feasible, he had escaped to home and to his Edward.

He still laid in Edwards arms, his voice now hoarse with the length of his story, when all that he had held inside for all those months finally broke and he gave in to wracking sobs.

"I lost the ship, it was my fault. You told me…remember? Back on the Indy after Muzilliac?……….an Officer has a duty to his men. Oh, God, Edward. I failed them so completely. They thought that I'd get them out of there and they were killed. I might as well have killed them with my own hands. Then in the prison, they were dying around me and there was nothing that I could do. I asked, begged, the Commandant for doctors, medicines. He wouldn't get them. He refused to help my men. He said that it was all reserved for the French, not stinking prisoners. I tried, Edward, I swear that I tried, but I failed. I watched them die around me. I lost…everything, the ship, and the men. They told me in the court that most of my men were exchanged a few months ago. They came home, the ones who were left. Only one hundred and fifty were returned. Out of over five hundred only one hundred and fifty were returned. I failed, Edward, I failed so completely."

Now it was Edward's turn to give the comfort that was so desperately needed. Gently holding Horatio, he began speaking. He spoke of a Captain's duty to his men, to his ship and to their King. How a Captain may be only a man, but he was entrusted with the lives and souls of everyone who sailed with him. No matter what might befall a vessel, the Captain was the man who bore the ultimate responsibility. There could never be a question of anyone or anything else being blamed for a loss. If the ship was lost to a storm, then the ship should never have been in the path of the weather, if a ship was lost in battle, then the Captain was the man who ordered the ship into the path of the enemy.

Horatio raised his head to look at Edward. "You think that it was my fault, that the court should have found me guilty?"

"No, Love. You did everything that a Captain and a man could have done, and more, to save The Sutherland. You were outnumbered. You could have fought to the death, but you had the sense to save what remained of your crew. You surrendered, dearest, but you never gave up. Even when you had a death sentence over you, you continued to fight against your captors. You returned alive, and you'll receive another ship and will fight again. You did lose that battle, but you weren't defeated."

Horatio lay back down and finally closed his eyes. He realized that what Edward had said was true. He would rest and regain his strength then he would return to the war.

But for a while, he was home.

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