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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Preslash Will/Horatio, mention of Horatio/Archie, Bush/Edrington, Bootstrap/Norrington.
Feedback: Typos, character discussions, etc.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Crossover with Horatio Hornblower. Pretend the first four HH movies happened, only adapted to the time of PotC. Written prior to the second PotC film. Inspired by a Japanese folktale.
Summary: Will probes at Horatio, using a handy Edrington fable. Horatio looks for one point and misses several others.
***
“And here’s where you’ll be.” Will lifted the lantern higher so its pale light would reach the farthest corners of the attic.
It was rather roomier than Horatio had expected, built soundly with a small window facing the sea. An ingenious craftsman had also built a kind of shuttered vent into that wall so air could be let into the stuffy space. A few boxes occupied one corner, but otherwise the only things present was a cot, a pail that Horatio surmised would serve as a chamberpot, and a washbasin.
“If you push your bed over there—” the edge of the light lapped the far wall “—then it’ll be least noisy. I try to get to bed at a decent time, but sometimes rush jobs keep me up.”
“Point taken.” Horatio heaved his chest up onto the floor, then scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder. The ceiling was low enough so that he and Will almost had to bend double, but all in all, he was pleasantly surprised to find such fine lodgings. “Does the…ah…smoke…”
Shaking his head, Will stooped to the other chest of Horatio’s sea-chest. Together they wedged it to the side. “Oh, no, the forge is nearly new. There shouldn’t be any leaks, and if there are, you should tell me immediately.”
A silence fell between them after that. Discussing the workaday details of Horatio’s stay in Will’s attic—watch out for the donkey’s droppings, take water from the pump and not the barrels since those were for forging—had kept them occupied, but those were used up and Horatio couldn’t help but remember earlier. By now he was almost certain Will had been having him on, and while the walrus tusk or whatever that had been had been a nice touch, it irked Horatio to be treated like a gullible midshipman.
On the other hand, if that were true then Will should have been laughing, or at least showing insouciant amusement in his eyes. Instead he seemed to be regarding Horatio quite seriously, and was almost too polite. If he were acting, then he was a fine one.
“So,” Will suddenly said. The shadows and light striped his face like a gaudy native before swirling down his neck. “Did Norrington say much about Tortuga to you?”
Horatio blinked in surprise before he could help it. Cursing himself, he carefully composed his voice. “Pardon?”
“I’m coming, so if you’re worrying about revealing Naval secrets, you needn’t.” Will looked at Horatio as if he were going to say more, but instead he rather abruptly turned around for the ladder. He trailed an odd odor that wasn’t disagreeable but was certainly…well, odd. It seemed to be compounded of charcoal, sea-salt, and something pungent—some sort of herb, perhaps. At any rate, it made Horatio ever-so-slightly dizzy.
No, that was the airlessness of the attic, and the illusion of the walls closing in as Will walked away. He was taking the lantern with him, so Horatio was compelled to follow, which hardly helped Horatio’s irritation.
Nevertheless, it served no purpose to be at odds with the landlord. “In…ah…what capacity are you coming with us?”
Will had already climbed down and now stood steadying the ladder for Horatio. Once again, he seemed to cut off his initial reply in favor of another, probably more diplomatic one. “A go-between of sorts. He’s told you we’re meeting a Captain Jack Sparrow—”
“The pirate,” Horatio said, mustering all his disapproval. Much to his error, as he saw a bare moment later. If Will was acting as a…
…but Will seemed amused instead of offended. “Things aren’t always what they seem. There was a nobleman visiting Jamaica only a few months back…”
* * *
“Well, we are certainly lost now,” Alexander savagely muttered. He slapped at the mud that was slowly drying on his breeches, wishing that he could do the same to that half-cocked drunkard who’d given him directions at the last squalid little town. Or to his valet, who would fall ill in the middle of nowhere so it was up to Alexander to fetch aid from Port Royal.
Beside him, Lieutenant Bush stared far too hard at the foliage. The man was doing a good job of not mentioning how Alexander had lost them both their horses, and of how generally incompetent Alexander was making the British aristocracy and army look, but however sparing he was of Alexander’s dignity, he was still damned annoying. And no, that was not fair, but neither was the utter lack of…of…of any differentiation in this damned stifling jungle. Every mile looked like the last, and so they all were uniformly discouraging.
“It can’t be that large an island. We haven’t left the road, at least, so eventually we’ll have to reach Port Royal.” If they were not eaten by mosquitoes, snakes, or any of the disgustingly over-sized creatures that seemed to thrive on Jamaica.
“We’ve already been walking for two hours, and when I ran into you, I was only five away, so we shouldn’t have that much farther to go,” Bush concurred. For a naval officer, he was being remarkably diplomatic.
Alexander bit down his urge to lash out long enough to nod tightly, then started walking again. They both knew that, with the sky the color of pitch, it wasn’t likely they’d make Port Royal for the night, but damned if Alexander was going to give up just yet. There had to at least be a shack, or a fallen tree, or something that would do as a crude shelter. God knew what was lurking in these—
Bush coughed. “Excuse me, my lord, but—”
“Hello, gentlemen,” said a low, rich, undoubtedly feminine voice. It belonged to a shapely figure that seemed to have wandered out of a gilt painting. She wore a veiled hat, but the hair that streamed out from behind it soaked up what little light there was and glowed golden, and it looked as if she wore the veil for protection from insects rather than because of any deformity. What much of her features were visible was exquisite. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was taking my nightly walk and I couldn’t help overhear your conversation. I live just down the road and I’d be happy to give you a night’s lodgings.”
“Oh.” Well. This certainly was a nice surprise. “That’s very kind of you…”
She made a slight curtsey, her skirts swirling around a pair of pretty ankles. “Maria West, sirs. My husband owns the land around here, but he’s gone on business for the night. It’d be no trouble at all to put you up.”
Transplanted gentry, judging by her accent. And, if Alexander wasn’t quite wrong, interested gentry. He smiled and offered her his arm. “Far be it for me to refuse such a beautiful lady.”
“And your friend?” she trilled, turning to Bush.
Who had a strange look on his face. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, which should have been casual enough but for the way he positively shied from the woman. He caught Alexander’s eye and seemed to be communicating something, but whatever he meant was completely lost on Alexander.
After a moment, he coughed and bashfully ducked his head. “Oh, no, ma’am. We’re merely travelers who fell in together on the road.”
“Well, my invitation extends to you all the same.” A seductive smile glimmered from behind the veil.
His mood much improved, Alexander nodded his agreement. “There’s hardly going to be a better offer, and I cannot possibly let you go on by yourself at this time of night.”
“It is late,” Bush said, giving Maria a sharp look. He reluctantly began to follow.
* * *
Horatio snorted quietly at his drink. “A more sensible reaction to a woman wandering outside by herself.”
A smile came and went on Will’s face, and for the first time, it seemed to be free of whatever thought was…was restraining him. That was it. The other man’s behavior was peculiarly circumscribed around Horatio, and it went far beyond the occasional nervousness civilians had around military officers. Certainly it wasn’t something to be expected from a man who appeared better-informed as to the Commodore’s plans than his own officers were.
It was very curious, and Horatio made a note to himself to keep a closer eye on his host. In the spirit of that vow, he forced himself to look more interested in what he suspected was simply another monster tale. “So I suppose the lord and the lieutenant went to this lady’s house and found it a wreck?”
“Oh, no. Actually, they found a veritable palace,” Will said. He was done with his drink and now drew idle circles around the rim with his fingertip. Sometimes the light of the candle would throw a glimpse of a long scar across his palm. “She wined and dined them.”
* * *
“Amazing. I was fully prepared to make allowances for a colonial outpost, but she sets a table as fine as any household in England,” Alexander marveled.
They were in a small study, taking brandy; Maria had been with them long enough to pour and sip a little, but had left to see to something. Or rather, Alexander was. Though their hostess had exerted all of her sparkling wit, Bush still hadn’t lost any of his uneasiness. At dinner he had failed to eat or drink, and now he stood straight by the window, staring into the night. Every so often, his feet would twitch as if he wished he were pacing.
Alexander checked the clock on the mantel, then looked at what remained in his glass. It was good, but he supposed he had to leave it. “Well, then. Do you suppose we’re to be robbed and murdered, or murdered and robbed?”
Bush startled into a turn. “My lord?”
“I am not, however it appears, completely unversed in the ways of footpads and other examples of human scum. Though I am partial a good meal, a good pair of breasts, and a good brandy.” If it was to be a robbery, they were sadly inexperienced at such matters. Maria had eaten the same food as they had, and had poured all the glasses from the same decanter, which precluded drugging. More importantly, she hadn’t seen fit to take away their swords.
After a moment, Bush ducked his head and stepped away from the window. He was visibly reassessing Alexander. “Actually, I think we’re quite alone in the house.”
“True. I haven’t heard anyone else, and no one can train servants that well.” In fact, it had become unnervingly quiet. Even the sounds of the night outside had died away, leaving nothing but their voices. Alexander got to his feet and loosened his sword in its scabbard. “Shall we?”
Being a consistent man, Bush silently assented. They took a candle from the mantel and Bush opened the door for Alexander, then followed him into the dark hall. It was an opulent house, tastefully and expensively decorated, and that had been one of the first clues. While some colonial landowners did turn a sufficient profit, generally they lacked the refined taste to use it to good effect unless they’d the breeding. And if Mrs. West did have the breeding, it certainly wasn’t of any lineage of which Alexander knew.
The hallway was empty and extraordinarily long. From what Alexander remembered of the house’s outside appearance, it shouldn’t be nearly so much so…
“My lord?” In the candlelight, Bush’s hair had turned from a nondescript gray-brown to sable touched with red, and the graceful line of his jaw was suddenly quite apparent. Damn the horses for not letting Alexander notice sooner. “I should mention something. I’ve been in this region for some time, and you should know—”
Something shuffled at the far end of the hall, interrupting Bush. Alexander turned with hand on hilt and lifted his candle. The light pooled over a Turkish rug, then the tassels at the edges that were sumptuously thick, and then…
“Inside!” Bush shouted, shoving them back into the room. He literally plowed into Alexander with his shoulder, knocking the breath out and nearly causing the candle to drop. Then he whirled and kicked the door shut just as something heavy slammed against it. The door bounced a few inches open and—and an enormous paw crashed through.
Bush swore and threw himself against the door. On the other side rose a horrendous yowling, which finally snapped Alexander out of his shock. He dropped the candleholder on the table with the brandy and seized the nearest piece of furniture—a chair—to wedge beneath the doorknob.
The paw was still flexing and jerking with such force that Bush was nearly thrown to his knees several times. Alexander heaved the chair the last few inches, then nodded to Bush. The other man promptly lessened pressure on the door; the paw was swiftly withdrawn and then together they barricaded the door before whatever was on the other side could try again.
Very, very slowly, the two men backed away. The creature snarled and threw itself against the door, but the chair and lock seemed to be holding. “Well, I see our host has returned to see us to our rest,” Alexander gasped, only now realizing how out of breath he was. “You were saying?”
“What?” Apparently, Bush had been expecting Alexander to faint or babble denials or some such nonsense, and was utterly stunned upon not receiving that reaction. “Oh. Ah.” He started to clear his throat but was surprised into choking when their host dragged screeching claws down wood. “The Caribbean’s known for its eccentricities of nature.”
Ah. Yes, of course it was. What a wonderful way of putting it. Alexander drew his sword and eyed the door; it would do for a little while longer, but already one of the hinges was coming loose. A great seam opened up along one of the panels, and behind it glinted ferocious claws. “Have any ideas for handling this particular one?”
Bush looked morose but determined. He also drew his sword. “There are ways, but personally I only know this one.”
“Then I do hope it’s of a mortal nature.” And that was all that Alexander had to say before the door burst inwards.
He threw up an arm to block the splinters coming at his eyes and promptly backstepped, but the thing was devilishly fast. Alexander swore and ducked as it shot past his shoulder. Something caught his collar and a spark of pain cut across his neck, but it wasn’t much worse than a shaving-cut and it hardly affected his sword-swing. The tip of his blade snagged something, then tore free in a small welter of blood. The creature yowled hideously and landed in a heap in the corner, but swiftly regained its feet.
It was feline, but of no species he’d ever seen, either in zoos or in person. The beast was as large as an underfed cow and rippling with muscles beneath its thick coat of fur, which shone eerily in the dark room. Its eyes were like two coals smoldering with hatred, and its head was shaped with a malevolent intelligence, more like that of a gargoyle than of a cat. Each of its claws would easily equal a dagger in length and deadliness.
“My lord?” Bush panted. His sword was also tipped with blood, and his coat had been half-torn from one side of his body. He was shaking a little, and took a step backward towards the table.
“Oh, I think we might use Christian names in this situation.” They’d been very fortunate with their first strikes, Alexander suddenly realized. The creature could learn, and indeed was with how it regarded them, and it would not make the same mistakes with its next strike. Then they’d be hard-pressed to meet it, for its strength and speed was clearly beyond them.
Bush seemed to realize the same thing. His face hardened and he looked at Alexander with the kind of courage usually only seen in last defenders under siege. “Alexander--run!”
And then he swept the candle and the brandy decanter off the table, directly in the path of the leaping beast. As if time had slowed, Alexander saw the top of the decanter fall and the brandy stream out in a glittering line parallel to the arc of the candle-flame. Then they crossed, ignited, and suddenly the world was afire, and in the middle of it was a shrieking, flaming monster.
Something seized Alexander’s elbow and dragged him towards the door. He stumbled, then caught himself and rushed after the other man. They pounded down the halls while behind them, the beast wailed and crashed about the house.
The moment they made it outside, everything suddenly collapsed. It was so close that a piece of woodwork caught Alexander on the elbow. Naturally, they did the sensible thing and continued till they were a safe distance away before they risked turning around.
There was nothing. That was, there were no fiery ruins—not even a stick standing, and even from where he stood, Alexander could see that it had been a good time since a building had occupied that ground. There was a bare area, but its edges were already being eaten away by the jungle.
Bush hastily choked down a surprised oath. He rubbed a hand over his brow, then under his chin. “All an illusion, then. None of it was real. That happens sometimes.”
“Which I’m sure will reassure my stomach, William. Dear God, then what was sup—never mind.” Better not to think about it. Besides, Alexander wasn’t dropping dead on the spot, so he wagered that they had more important worries. Such as the fact that they were, once again, lacking shelter and direction.
* * *
Horatio stifled a triumphant smile. “It’s very convenient how all these stories seem to take place in ruins so old that it’d be impossible to verify the facts.”
For a moment, he thought he’d gone too far because Will’s jaw suddenly tightened. The other man started to push away from the table, but by the time Horatio managed to lift an apologetic hand, Will was already sitting down. He reset his mouth into a slightly less friendly line. “Let me know when you’ve first got shore leave and I’ll take you to the setting of this story. It is only two hours’ walk from here, or about an hour’s ride.”
Thankfully, it was fairly dim even with the candle. “I…ah…can’t ride.”
A small flash of sympathy appeared in Will’s face. He shrugged. “Well, I probably couldn’t borrow the horses anyway. It’s not a bad walk in the daytime, though it can be uncomfortable at night.”
* * *
“Thank God for civilization,” Alexander muttered under his breath. He jerked his chin at the footman who’d come running. “Please announce to the Governor that the Earl of Edrington and—”
He turned around and surprised William in the act of quietly sneaking off. If the man hadn’t been a Naval officer, Alexander certainly would’ve snapped him up for a manservant. Understated, commonsensical, and competent no matter what the situation. And he did have a fine back. “Lieutenant Bush! After tonight, you deserve better than a wharfside inn.”
Before the other man could finish protesting, Alexander had taken him by the arm and dragged him up the steps to the Governor’s house.
“My lord, I couldn’t—”
“No, no, you’re staying. You’d do me a great—favor, if you did.” Alexander slightly dropped his voice on ‘favor’. ‘Honor’ would have been the more appropriate word, but it wouldn’t produce nearly as pleasant results.
Well, Alexander hoped. It’d been a trying night, and he had a moment’s fear that he’d read the man wrong.
But then William’s solemn face cracked in a smile, and something intriguing gleamed in his eye. “That’s very kind of you, my lord.”
Of course, a man who could take a demon in stride had to have hidden depths…and Alexander was looking very forward to plumbing them. He released William to the care of the servants and then resigned himself to seeing to the formalities.
Thankfully, the Governor seemed as anxious to return to his bed as Alexander was to find his, and that took no time at all. Alexander stopped in his room long enough to freshen up, then wandered down the hall, occasionally redirecting a servant out of the way, till he found the right door. He walked in, then paused.
William froze. He’d been in the act of taking off his shirt; it had left his head and torso and was now rumpled up around his arms.
“I’d apologize for startling you, but I’m inclined to believe that’s far more difficult to do.” Lock the door, make sure that coat-tails are not stuck in it…just for good measure, Alexander shed his coat and tossed it over a chair. “How’d you know about Maria West?”
“I could ask the same of you,” William replied. He finished removing his shirt and watched Alexander saunter the rest of the way across the room with a certain wariness.
Alexander shrugged and began dealing with his—too damned many for this climate—clothes. He purposely fumbled his buttons and laces, secretly urging William to hurry up. “I didn’t. But I hadn’t noticed any signs of farming along the way, and no normal woman would be out alone that late in that sort of country.”
Apparently William’s caution extended into every aspect of his life, for he didn’t lift his hands towards Alexander’s shirt till Alexander had damn near ripped it to shreds in frustration. His fingers were deft and warm, and were gradually leading the rest of him into eager participation. “I’ve been here awhile, and she…was not exactly the first of her kind that I’ve seen. I talked to a servant—it seems that there really was a couple named West who had a farm there. The husband was a violent, jealous man and kept his wife isolated from nearly everyone, with nothing but a cat on which she doted as if it were a child. Eventually he killed her in a fit and the cat disappeared. Shortly afterward, he remarried a beautiful, mysterious woman with long silky hair.”
“Ah. Our murderous hostess.” Since they were about even in terms of remaining clothing, Alexander decided to do something about William’s belt. He laid his hands on William’s waist and the other man stiffened. Alexander considered that for a moment. “I give you my word that you’ll suffer no repercussions from this, no matter the result.”
“That’s very appreciated,” William quietly replied. He sucked in a breath, hesitating a moment longer. Then he pulled at Alexander, and then they were so closely-pressed together that hardly a hair could fit between them.
Finally, something about this damned trip was turning out right.
* * *
“…and a few weeks after their marriage, the second wife slaughtered her husband and all the servants and then vanished. Supposedly she was the first wife’s cat, come back to revenge her, but she also appears to unwary travelers to lead them to their deaths,” Will finished.
It was hard to know how to respond to that, but at last Horatio settled on noncommittal. “An interesting story. If you could spare the time, I’d like to see the place, but right now I’m afraid I have to turn in. Oh, and Archie’s supposed to stop by tomorrow, but he doesn’t quite know where this place is…”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Will stood as well, but instead of accompanying Horatio to the ladder, he merely handed Horatio the lantern. At Horatio’s questioning look, he made a little dismissive gesture with his hands. “I’m going out to bring in some more coal and firewood. I have a good deal of work for the morrow.”
“Ah.” Something witty or at least gracious should have followed that, but Horatio never had been any good at such things. He always stood too long and never spoke soon enough—like he was doing now, rudely throwing the lantern’s glare in Will’s eyes and shuffling his feet. “I—”
“Pleasant dreams,” Will said. He turned and exited with an enviable casualness.
Horatio thought about calling after him, but dismissed the idea. Partly because he’d still have no notion as to what to say, and so he was better off climbing the ladder.
* * *
“Will?”
“Right here,” Will sighed. He dug around till he’d found his pouch, then took out his string of bone-beads from it. Counting them, feeling the carvings beneath his thumb and finger, helped give his temper something to do instead of exploding.
Norrington took his time getting from the end of the alley to where Will was, though the reason for that was apparent enough.
“Will,” Bootstrap awkwardly greeted. He darted a look at Will, dropped his eyes, then raised them to stare again. “It’s…good to see you again.”
“You look well. No injuries from your trip, I take it?” No, it wasn’t proper to use that sort of grating voice with one’s father, but then again, Will was fairly sure that it wasn’t proper for one’s father to come smelling of sex with one’s commodore. He stepped back into a small draft that’d carry away the scent.
Bootstrap not only noticed but understood. His expression was equal parts defensive, angry, and wistful, but he thankfully chose to give Will some much-needed space. Perhaps so long under the sea had addled parts of his mind, but he wasn’t a fool.
Norrington didn’t look happy about that. “Will…”
“Look, I agreed to help ease your baby officers into this, not to play preacher to them. It is not my responsibility to convince them that I’m not some poor, pathetic crazy bachelor who runs on about nonsense,” Will snapped. “I don’t have time for this anyway. I’m supposed to—”
“Will. I don’t expect you to train them. I expect you to help, as we agreed. This is an irregular arrangement, but it’s vital to ensuring the survival of us and of Port Royal.” When Norrington put his back into it, he could shut up a hurricane with a few choice words. Or make Will feel like a misbehaving little boy again. “I apologize that they’re being…difficult, but please remember that the burden lies on all our backs.”
Will opened his mouth to answer, but the breeze suddenly reversed and he smelled…Christ. God damn it, he was happy his father was alive, but the man could have possibly given Will notice about that before he’d walked in on him and Norrington.
Speaking of, the commodore was watching Will with a strange desperation. His shoulders abruptly slumped, and he even went so far as to touch at his temple as if his head ached. Behind his shoulder, Bootstrap gave Norrington a concerned look that happened to cross paths with Will’s eyes. Will’s father hunched, but made no effort to deny his worry.
Suddenly Will missed Elizabeth, for when she’d left so had left the only person in Port Royal who’d give him the same look. And, grudgingly, he understood. “All right, I won’t let them get eaten by a sea serpent. But honestly, were they the best you could do? They’re awfully young…”
“They’re the same age as you, and as I when I came over here,” Norrington said with some amusement. “If that’s settled, then I advise we get on with tonight’s work. I don’t want to miss the meeting with Jack.”
Will carefully ignored how Norrington stumbled over those last words and how his father stiffened like an irritated cat. He was going to do his job, and that was all. Everyone else could see to the rest themselves.
***