Pairing: Horatio/Archie, Phileas/Jules
Rating: R
Category: Angst, Drama, First Time, Established Relationship, Time Travel....
Summary: Archie dies. The League of Darkness learns time travel. Jules learns important physics lessons. Horatio learns some women aren't that bad.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, much less these fine characters (if you know where I could buy them, please let me know *g*). I refuse to make any money off them in any event, so please don't sue me.
Notes: Agh, there are so many people to thank, and I wrote this months and months ago, before my life went completely insane. Ruth, certainly, for the lovely in-depth beta when all was finished as well as reading along as I wrote, and encouraging the idea. Cori, Becky and Emma also for the reading and the encouragement along the way. Anyone else I've forgotten because it's 12:30 and I'm falling off the couch...thank you! :)
Spoilers: Pretty much all the HH movies, and lots of stuff from SAJV.
More Notes: SAJV is written as if Jules Verne really lived the adventures he wrote about in his books--a very neat idea if I do say so myself. Phileas Fogg really exists in that universe, he has a cousin, Rebecca, and a manservant named Passepartout who went mysteriously missing sometime before this story starts, unfortunately. HH is about Horatio Hornblower, based on the books by C.S. Forester, only Forester left out the most important character in the universe, Archie Kennedy, except for one tiny mention in the first book. What's that? You think Horatio is the most important character in the HH universe? Ahh, so you've not seen the movies, eh?
Still More Notes: Someone remind me never to write notes this late at night. Please.


Relativity
by Nicole D'Annais
Copyright 2002



##January 1802##

He wasn't quite sure why he was still sitting there. Archie--dear friend, shipmate, brother-in-arms--was gone. The body that lay cooling beside him on the bed was just that, a body. He supposed he should go tell someone. Dr. Clive, perhaps--he would want to know, and there would be arrangements to make and Archie's family would have to be notified.

Still, he did not move. Once he moved, it would be real. Life would go on, the world would go on, but Archie Kennedy would no longer be there. So he sat there until the doctor returned to check on his patient, only to find him dead.

"Mr Hornblower, you should have called for me."

"Sorry, Dr Clive. It just happened."

The doctor made a perfunctory check of vital signs. "Not more than a few minutes, yes?"

Horatio didn't bother to answer, he just watched as the doctor carefully closed Archie's eyes and laid his hands across his stomach.

"His family sent servants to town in case he did not survive. They'll be wanting to take him back now."

"But I thought--I assumed we would bury him at sea." Not a realistic assumption, now that he thought about it, but he knew it would have been Archie's preference. And he would have fought to make it so, if it had been just the navy he had to fight. Fighting nobility, however, was another thing altogether.

"His family has sent very specific instructions, Mr Hornblower. His body is to be returned home without delay."

Horatio nodded, but he stayed where he was as the doctor left. He was still there when Dr. Clive came back with two burly men. "I'm sorry, Mr Hornblower, but it is time."

"Of course, Doctor." He rose and stood aside, watching as if from a great distance as the two servants lifted Archie from the bed and placed him into a large metal box. It wasn't quite a coffin; he supposed it must be some sort of device used to transport the dead. They sealed the box and departed without a word.

Dr. Clive turned to Horatio. "I am sorry, Mr Hornblower. I know Mr Kennedy was a good friend of yours."

"Thank you," Horatio replied with a nod. After an awkward moment, Dr Clive turned and left. Horatio looked around the room, uncertain as to what to do next. There was nowhere he needed to be--now that the court martial was over, he was awaiting new orders. There was also nowhere he particularly wanted to go, and even if there had been, there was no one to go there with.

Once again, he was alone. The knowledge weighed heavy on his shoulders, and he sat back down on the edge of Archie's bed, trying to recapture the numbness he'd felt earlier. He had no idea how much time had passed when the sound of the door, followed by footsteps, roused him. It was Commodore Pellew, with the latest copy of the Kingston Chronicle. The article praising Captain Sawyer and Lieutenants Hornblower and Bush was, no doubt, intended to cheer him, but Horatio could only feel the absence of Archie from it as well. It was as if someone had set out to wipe the young man's very existence from record.

It was some small comfort to realise that Commodore Pellew, at least, seemed to understand what had really happened. Or he thought he did, and he was close enough to the truth that Horatio felt appreciation for the man's candour in the matter, in as much as Pellew allowed himself to say without saying too much.

Then the Commodore managed to actually distract Horatio from his grief by giving him his new orders. Command of his own vessel--the very vessel he'd brought in on this last voyage. Without pausing to think, Horatio pointed out that Bush really was second in command, but Pellew stopped him before he could dig himself deeper into a hole. "Mr Hornblower, I advise you when offered promotion to accept it, otherwise it may not be offered again. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I wish you...a safe voyage, Mr Hornblower."

He was gone before Hornblower had managed his soft "Thank you, sir." Horatio breathed deeply, unable to believe yet another event in this strange day. His first command. And at his age--it was almost unthinkable. Only this morning he had been contemplating not just an end to his career, but to his life.

Now he was Commander of His Majesty's Ship Retribution. And it was Archie who'd lost his career and his life. He had everything he'd dreamed of, but lost something very dear, and he didn't really feel like celebrating.

Even if he did, who would he celebrate with? After all, he was all alone.

~~~

##May 1865##

"I still think Booth was involved with the League of Darkness."

The clang of steel rang out several times in rapid succession before Verne, slightly out of breath, replied, "You see conspiracy everywhere, Fogg. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Fogg missed a parry, but managed to block the next swing of Verne's blade handily. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean sometimes things are just what they appear to be. Not everything has a hidden meaning or sinister motive."

"And what does that have to do with cigars?"

Verne ducked a whip-fast sword blow aimed at his head. "Nothing. It's just a saying I picked up...well, I'm not sure where. It just came to me."

Their blades locked at the base, leaving them nose-to-nose. "So you think Booth killed Lincoln on his own then, Jules? No ulterior motives?"

"I didn't say that." Before Fogg could react, Verne reached out and grabbed the back of Fogg's neck, pulling him close for a quick kiss. In the midst of Phileas's surprise, Verne had no trouble knocking the sword out of the older man's hand. He raised the tip of his own sword until it was just touching Phileas's neck.

A corner of Fogg's mouth twitched upward as he pushed Verne's blade away from his neck with one slender finger. "You're too good to need to cheat."

"And you're too experienced to let someone surprise you into losing."

"Somehow I doubt any of my opponents will try such a tactic."

"Which is why it will work," Jules added quietly before stepping back, sword hand falling to his side.

The door to the study swung open, distracting both men. Rebecca Fogg swept into the room with enough haste to suggest this was not merely a social call. "Phileas, good, you're home."

"Where else would I be, my dear cousin?"

"I haven't time to list the possibilities." She nodded to Verne as she reached the sofa in the centre of the room. "Hello, Jules. Glad to see you're here too. I'm going to need help from you both."

Phileas laughed. "There's a surprise. What is it this time? Is the Queen in mortal danger--again?"

"Worse, I'm afraid."

"Worse?" The smile left Phileas's face. "What has the League of Darkness done now?"

Rebecca sat down with more care than necessary before answering. "Remember the hints that they had discovered the plans to the Cardinal's Chariot?"

"I thought those were just rumours," Jules said, leaning forward on his sword with great interest.

"So did we, until one of our agents witnessed the damn thing large as life--and fully functional."

"You're not serious?"

"I never joke about things such as this, Phileas."

Jules joined Rebecca on the couch, his eyes distant. "You're sure about this? How do we know it works?"

"Kittridge was on it. He says he went back to 1802 and returned to our time safely. The whole thing took no more than the blink of an eye to those who stayed in this time, but Kittridge is certain he was in the other time for at least half a day."

"How did he manage to get on board that thing?" Phileas asked, taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. "Has he somehow joined the League?"

Rebecca shook her head. "He was gathering information when he stumbled across the test. Jumped onto the side of the Chariot at the last second."

"Fascinating!"

"Yes, Jules, the fact that the League of Darkness now has the ability to alter the past and future would, of course, fascinate you." Rebecca rubbed her temple and sighed. "Of course, it bloody well terrifies most of us."

"Kittridge wasn't harmed, despite being on the outside of the ship?" At her look, Jules shrugged. "Every bit of information could be important, couldn't it?"

Rebecca conceded the point with a slight nod. "He was a bit dazed, but once that passed, he was quite clear-headed. The information he gathered will be invaluable in our search."

"If you know where the Chariot is and how it works," Phileas asked, "then what are we searching for?"

"While they were in the past, the League minions off-loaded some sort of machine. Kittridge couldn't see what it was, only that it was rather large. Two of the minions stayed behind with the machine when the Chariot returned."

Phileas rose and went to the sideboard to pour a drink. "So Kittridge has no idea where they were planning to take this machine?"

"He couldn't very well follow them without risking his only chance to return to the present time and warn us."

"No, I suppose not. So what, exactly, does Chatsworth want us to do to help him this time?"

Rebecca frowned at his tone, but refrained from comment. "It's very simple, really. We need to steal the Chariot, take it back to 1802, hide it from the League while we find out what they've gone to change, and prevent it from happening."

Phileas downed the contents of his glass in one drink. "I think, Rebecca, that your definition of simple could really use some work."

~~~

##January 1802##

Horatio lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He should have been asleep, storing up energy for his first voyage on the Retribution. Three weeks seemed like an eternity on land, but it would go by fast.

The trouble was that he was used to falling into his bunk exhausted aboard ship and not so much as forming a thought until he was woken for watch the next day. While he had duties to attend to, they were light at best, and he was barely tired when he lay down each night.

Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to have the ship ready sooner than expected and he would be back out to sea with so much to occupy his mind he wouldn't have time to think. That was doubtful, though. His Majesty's Navy was not known for speed unless circumstances demanded it.

They should let Archie's family run things. The speed with which they must have dispatched servants to stand by and wait for Archie's death was no less than astonishing. Archie had mentioned his family had property of some kind in Jamaica, so the men must have been servants stationed there.

Odd, really, that they had been waiting around for Archie to die. The doctor had been quite closed-mouthed about Archie's condition; most often his only comment consisted of, "We shall see." Unless, of course, he had not wanted to further burden Hornblower during the court martial with the possibility of his best friend's death. Dr. Clive could have sent word to Archie's family about his condition, though how he would have done that so quickly was another mystery.

Horatio yawned as sleep began to claim him at last. He would have to think more about this tomorrow. Perhaps the puzzle would at least be an interesting diversion.

~~~

##May 1865##

Late afternoon sun filtered into the living area of the Aurora, barely enough light to read by, but Rebecca was making the effort nonetheless. If nothing else, it let her pretend to ignore Phileas's attempts to demonstrate his irritation. He'd done everything he could to annoy her, short of actually starting a conversation.

"You might have mentioned, Rebecca, that the Chariot was in Jamaica."

Now he'd tried everything. "I didn't mention that part? I though I had." Her lips twitched as she turned the page in her book.

"Jamaica is a wretched and out of the way place," Phileas complained as he toyed with a sword in the brass container near the window.

"And here I thought you liked adventures and new places, Fogg," Jules teased as he entered the room.

Phileas picked up the sword and scowled. "Jamaica isn't new, it's just hot."

"How is the new book going, Jules?" Rebecca marked her place in her book and laid it on the table before her. "Did you find your inspiration?"

"I believe so."

"Splendid!" She turned her chair until her back was to her cousin. "Have a seat," she invited, patting the chair next to her. "I want to hear all about the book."

Jules shook his head as he took the offered seat. "Actually, I'd prefer not to talk about it until I'm sure it's going to work."

"Oh, well, then tell me how things have been going in England while I was away."

Both of them ignored the increasingly violent swish of Phileas's sword through the air behind them as Jules responded. "It's been quite uneventful. Not to mention damp. Jamaica should be a lovely change--I hear they have some amazing plant life there."

"Quite right. I was there once in--"

The loud crack of Phileas's sword on the table directly between the two of them stopped Rebecca mid-sentence. "Jamaica will be infinitely less interminable if you would perhaps stop acting as if you're at a tea party and instead go over the mission at hand."

"Phileas, for Heaven's sake, we have weeks before we get there. I suspect there will be plenty of time to discuss specifics after we've caught up. I haven't seen either of you in over a month."

"And a quiet month it has been."

Rebecca twisted around until she could see him. "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I simply want time to plan. Anything involving the League of Darkness is bound to be complicated. Have you ever noticed how nothing seems to go as planned when they are involved? I intend to see that doesn't happen this time."

Rebecca opened her mouth to argue, but the sudden pressure of Jules's hand on hers forestalled her. "Very well, Phileas," she conceded. "Let's talk about the mission."

~~~

##January 1802##

The trick to emotions was knowing how to turn them off. In the navy, at war, Horatio had seen many men under his command die, as well as a few of his superiors. Death was a part of war. Or, as his father would say, part of life. He was sorry the men had died, but he did not dwell on it. One could not command men to their deaths if one could not let go of their lives.

So why could he not let go of Archie Kennedy's death? The man had been a good friend. But he was gone, and thinking about his death was not going to bring him back.

Not that he intended to forget the good memories he had of Archie, or ever forget the sacrifice his friend had made in the end. No, things such as that should never be forgotten. Why, then, was it the manner of his death that stayed so insistently in the front of his mind?

Perhaps it was because it was all over so quickly, and without finality. Though watching a man breathe his last breath was certainly final. But there had been no ceremony. Maybe he would get past this lurid fascination with Archie's death if he could see a grave, or something of that nature.

Someone at Archie's family's holding in Jamaica would surely know whether they had buried him there. He could ask around a bit and see if he could find their land. Archie had said something about a farm--surely there would not be a large amount of Kennedys with farms this far from England.

~~~

"I still refuse to believe it's this easy," Phileas whispered. "Only four guards?"

Rebecca looked around the large warehouse, peering through the dust filtered by sunlight for any hint of a trap or hidden danger. The Chariot stood in the middle of the room, only four men guarding it, one at each corner, alert and waiting for any possible attack. "I cannot see any other obstacles," she said finally, managing to sound as unconvinced as her cousin.

"Have you forgotten the five guards and three traps we've already disposed of?" Jules asked quietly. "Or that we're not exactly in the middle of a city where they'd need a great amount of protection?"

"No," Rebecca murmured, "but that's standard for the League, and yet they still maintain a higher guard under normal circumstances."

"These are hardly 'normal circumstances,'" Jules replied. "We're talking about time travel. Maybe they want to keep it quiet, even in their own organisation."

Phileas edged in closer to the other two. "Either way, we'd best just charge them and get it over with. It won't be long before someone notices the other guards are missing."

"Fine." Rebecca took another look at the guards stationed around the Chariot. "I'll take care of the two on the left. Phileas, you handle the two on the right. Jules, you get to that machine and make it run. January 26, 1802. Remember that. We don't to be stuck in the wrong time. Again."

Phileas frowned. "That's your plan?"

"Do you have a better one?"

He glared at Rebecca. "Fine. On three then. One...two...three."

They launched themselves from their hiding place. By the time Rebecca and Phileas had finished off the guards, Jules was inside the Chariot, studying the controls.

"Can you get it working?" Rebecca panted out as she ran into the Chariot.

"I think so. Give me one--there!" With a loud thunk, the engine began to whirl.

Rebecca kissed him on the cheek. "You're brilliant!"

"Yes, so people keep telling him," Phileas added dryly as he came onboard. He put a hand on Jules's shoulder and smiled. "Well done."

"I only started it. Wait until we see if I can get it to take us back before you congratulate me."

The machine began to glow faintly, its vibrations reaching a fever pitch. Phileas watched out the porthole as his vision of the warehouse began to blur. "Looks as though we're about to find out."

~~~

##January 1802##


"Well, perhaps the deed would go back a few years. I thought it was only recently purchased, but I suppose it could have been several years ago."

The desk clerk sighed heavily. "Commander, we really don't have the resources to search through years of papers. If you could possibly narrow it down, that would help considerably."

Horatio thought for a moment. "Perhaps I could search the deeds myself?"

"Very well. Here." The clerk led him behind the desk to a set of shelves. "All the land deeds are recorded here, starting with the most recent, going back to the Port Royal quake."

"Oh." Horatio eyed the row of tall shelves. "I see. And if Mr Kennedy--excuse me, Lord Kennedy's family bought his land in the last one hundred years, there should be a record here?"

The clerk nodded. "Assuming it was not lost or destroyed somehow."

Horatio glanced across the long, dusty room to the window. The sun was getting lower in the sky; he had two hours to search at best. "Well, I'd better get started then," he said in a positive tone. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do. Another delay in fixing his ship had prompted the Admiralty to give him a week's leave. Privately, he thought Commodore Pellew had something to do with that decision. They'd dined only the evening before, and Pellew had seemed rather concerned about Horatio's reaction to his friend's death

Not that Horatio should break down in tears. But the Commodore had expressed concern over Horatio's plan to search for the Kennedy land.

Still, concern or no, the week of leave had given Horatio plenty of time to pursue that search. With that in mind, he pulled out the first book and began paging through.

~~~

Rebecca watched the tall Commander as he began turning pages behind the counter. Clearly he hadn't been given the answer he wanted and had decided to look for it himself. A noble trait, if a bit naïve. One could not always find an answer for everything.

She returned the book of property she'd asked for to cover her surveillance and slipped out the front door. After her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, she found Phileas and Jules waiting patiently across the street beside a palm tree. Or at least Jules was waiting patiently. Phileas was tapping his foot and checking his watch.

Rebecca took her time crossing to their small bit of shade, watching Phileas become more annoyed with each slow step. She couldn't help herself; Phileas made it so easy to rile him. "It would seem our naval officer may be a while. He's researching land deeds."

"What the devil would he want with a deed?" Phileas wondered.

"To know who owns something, I would imagine. Or to find someone. He'd only just started when I left."

Phileas growled. "I really think this would be much easier if you would just let me talk to him--"

"And explain the bruises to the British Navy later? No, we do it my way until circumstances warrant a more direct approach."

"Very well," Phileas conceded as he leaned against the tree. "For now."

"Rebecca." Jules touched Rebecca's arm. "He's leaving."

She turned to see Hornblower striding away from the hall of records. "Right," she said, straightening her dress. "This is where I go to work. If you'll excuse me...."

Rebecca crossed the street again, her whole demeanour changing to one of preoccupation. A few slight alterations in her path, and she managed to accidentally bump into Hornblower so hard she fell into the street.

"I'm terribly sorry," Horatio said, holding out his hand. "I'm afraid I was not paying attention to where I was walking."

"Nor was I," Rebecca responded, using his hand to help herself up from the ground and bringing the paper he had dropped with her. "Thank you," she said, handing him the scrap of paper, managing a surreptitious glance at the words written there. "I apologise," she said as she held out her hand. "Rebecca Forrester."

"Commander Horatio Hornblower," he replied, bowing over her hand carefully. His movements were a bit awkward, as if he did not often practice such manners.

"Well, Commander, I don't suppose you would care to walk me to The Blue Diamond and make certain I don't run anyone else down?"

He seemed at a loss for a moment before he bowed again. "I would be happy to do so."

*Good Lord, he's serious.* Rebecca hid her grin as she fell into step beside the man. "Thank you, Commander. I dare say if the rest of the navy is as conscientious as you, I shall sleep better tonight."

~~~

"Your dinner, sir."

"Thank you." As the innkeeper nodded and walked off, Horatio observed his surroundings. The Blue Diamond was a cut above the places he'd stayed the few times he'd been on shore since joining the navy. Upon hearing his departure had been delayed, Commodore Pellew had recommended the place. Horatio had, of course, taken his advice, and tried not to wince at the price of everything the inn offered. He reminded himself of his prize money often, as well as his raise in pay now that he was a Commander. He could well afford it.

He had to admit the meals were larger and better prepared than he was accustomed to. With the exception of a few evenings when he had dined in uncomfortable social situations, he had not eaten finer meals.

"Mind if I join you?"

Horatio looked up to see Rebecca Forrester standing by his table. "Why...no, please, be my guest." He rose as courtesy dictated until she was seated, then returned to his own seat.

"Thank you. I'm not normally so forward, but I do hate to eat alone in a public place. And as we do know each other, after a fashion, I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all." The innkeeper scurried over to take the lady's order, then disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them alone. "So...." Horatio cleared his throat. "Mrs...?" At her nod, he continued, "Forrester, what brings you to Kingston?"

Rebecca smiled. "Business." At Horatio's surprised look, she laughed. "I've never been particularly fond of propriety, Commander. I prefer to do as I please. Fortunately for me, my late husband's money affords me that luxury."

He didn't know quite what to say to that. "So...what kind of business are you involved in?" he inquired finally, only just remembering not to eat, as Mrs Forrester had not yet received her food.

"My husband owned a share in a sugarcane operation here. I've been looking into it to see if it is worth keeping, or if I should sell it."

"Really? You wouldn't happen to know of Lord Kennedy's sugarcane farm, would you?"

She thought for a moment then shook her head. "I'm afraid, not, though the name does sound vaguely familiar. Friend of yours?"

Horatio felt a small pang at her question, but he ignored it. "Family of a friend, actually." Oh, bother, he might as well tell her the whole thing. "His son was a good friend of mine, and he...he died recently. I was planning to go...pay my respects to Lord Kennedy and perhaps say a final goodbye, I suppose, tomorrow, but I have only general directions. I thought perhaps you might know where it was."

Mrs Forrester sighed sympathetically. "I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. He died in a battle, I suppose?"

"From wounds sustained in one, yes." He refused to dwell on the rest of the story.

"I can see it bothers you; my apologies for my questions."

"No, it's quite all right. I'm just..." he cast about for an excuse that didn't involve the mutiny, "thinking about the search I'll have to go on tomorrow to find their farm."

Mrs Forrester frowned for a moment. "I've an idea," she said as her food was placed in front of her. "I have some contacts here in sugarcane, obviously. I'm quite sure I could get exact directions to this farm--if you'll let me go along with you."

Horatio blinked. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I mentioned I was trying to decide what to do with my husband's interests here. The truth is, I'd really like to sell them. Who better to approach than someone already farming sugar here?" Her smile turned a little sad. "And I know how it feels to lose someone. I imagine you wouldn't mind the company, would you?"

After a moment's pause, Horatio gave a faint shake of his head. "No, I think company would be welcome."

"There then, it's settled." She picked up her fork and began to eat. "Now, tell me about this Lord Kennedy, so I may find him for you."

~~~

"He's an Earl of some sort." Rebecca sunk down into the lone chair in the room. "British, owns a sugarcane farm here, and had a son in the navy."

Phileas perched on the edge of the bed. "Had?"

"Apparently the son died recently. That's why Hornblower is looking for the Earl. Wants to pay his respects to the family."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Phileas asked with a frown.

Rebecca shrugged. "His ship is under repair, he has nothing else to occupy his time. It's possible Commander Hornblower--"

"Of course!" Jules slammed his notebook shut. "I knew there was something familiar about that name."

"Jules?"

"Sorry, Rebecca," he answered, "I've been trying to remember why I knew the name, and it suddenly came to me. He was--is, or rather is going to be a famous Admiral by the time his career is over."

Phileas thought for a moment. "I do seem to remember Father mentioning the name once or twice now that I think about it. I suppose they must have met, at least."

"I'm afraid I'm not up on my British Naval history, but the name was familiar."

Phileas smiled. "Hard name to completely forget."

"Indeed." Rebecca rose and headed for the door. "I must get some sleep. I'm due to meet the good Commander at noon to drive out to Lord Kennedy's farm and we have to find it before that."

"Nothing like a challenge," Phileas said with a sigh.

~~~

As the door closed behind Rebecca, Phileas began removing his cravat and shirt with short, angry motions. When he nearly pulled the third button from his shirt, Jules placed a hand on the fourth one. "Not that I object to the occasional button-ripping, but this seems a little pointless. What, exactly, are you taking out on your clothes?"

"I'm not comfortable here," Phileas ground out, moving Jules's hand off the button, but undoing the rest with more care. "I want to be done with this and back in my own time."

"You've been all over the world on missions; don't you find it just a little exciting to be in the past on one? Think how few people will ever get this chance--"

"And with good reason. It is far too easy to muck things up. Don't you realise that even the slightest change could completely alter the course of history as we know it?"

Jules tugged at the now unbuttoned shirt, easing it off Phileas's shoulders with practiced care. "Yes. But anything we do to change 'history' can only be better than anything the League of Darkness would do."

"You can't know that. History is not something to tamper with."

"The League has already done so. All we can do is minimise their damage," Jules said as he went to work on Phileas's trousers. "Besides that, how do you know our own history doesn't take into account what we'll do here?"

Distracted by the light grazing of Jules's fingers as they released trouser buttons, Phileas only managed a confused, "What?"

"This is history. One could argue that everything we're doing here has already happened before we were already born. Maybe by being here we're really assuring our futures and actually protecting history as we know it."

"Well, now I have a headache."

Jules smiled. "I can fix that, at least," he said as he raised his hands to lace his fingers through Phileas's short hair. Instead of pulling the taller man down for a kiss, however, he began to rub small circular patterns on Phileas's scalp. "There is nothing you can do except stay here and keep the League from doing whatever they plan to do," Jules whispered. "Stop worrying about things outside of your control."

A fleeting smile crossed Phileas's face. "When have you known me to do that?"

"Hope springs eternal," Jules replied with a grin. "But if words won't dissuade you, there is always distraction." With that, he tugged on the back of Phileas's head, bringing their lips together, and quickly blocking all worries from both their minds, if only for a little while.

~~~

Horatio stepped out from the shade of The Blue Diamond's porch again. Still no sign of Mrs Forrester on either side of the street. She couldn't be more than five minutes late, but to someone used to perfect punctuality, it seemed as thought he'd been waiting an age.

Finally she came into view, hurrying as much as wide, swaying skirts would allow. "I do apologise, Commander, though I hope you'll forgive me when you realise I was getting directions."

"It is no trouble, madam. You found the location of Lord Kennedy's farm, then?"

"I have, and it is not far from town, thank goodness." Mrs Forrester indicated a carriage off to the side of the porch. "My coach is waiting, if you are ready to leave."

"Yes, ma'am, of course." He followed her, waited while she gave the directions to her driver and helped her into the carriage before climbing in himself.

She settled into the corner of the seat opposite Horatio. "Have you ever been outside of town, Commander?"

"No, ma'am."

"Ah, well, then, you're in for a treat. It only gets more beautiful once you are in the country."

Horatio barely saw any beauty in Jamaica, given all that had transpired there, but he thought it best not to say so. "I'm sure it is lovely," he murmured as he stared unseeingly out the window.

"You don't sound convinced."

He looked over sharply as she spoke, but saw none of the amusement he had expected, only curiosity. "I confess that my stay in Jamaica has not been one that has lent itself to admiring beauty of any kind."

"It certainly sounds as if you've had a difficult time of it. What happened--if you don't mind my asking?"

*I lost nearly everything.* He hadn't thought about what he would say when asked about all that had happened, but he supposed the questions were inevitable. People were, after all, curious by nature, and often pried as a result.

"I'm sorry, Commander, if my question upsets you. You are under no obligation to answer it."

"No, Mrs Forrester, it's quite all right. I was merely thinking of how to explain so much without making it into a long story."

She smiled. "I like long stories."

"I shall endeavour to make it somewhat short, all the same." Horatio studied his laced fingers. "Our captain...fell ill on our voyage here. We had to take command of the ship, and all did not go smoothly. We managed to capture prisoners, but they attempted to take our ship en route to Kingston. During the ensuing battle on board, Lieutenant Kennedy was shot."

"He made it back to Kingston, though?"

"Indeed, he did." *And gave up his good name before he gave up his life.*

Horatio was startled to feel a hand land on his. "I'm sorry. Clearly talking of this upsets you."

"No, truly, it is all right. I shall have to get used to it eventually. Besides, I have a suspicion that the subject may arise when we reach our destination."

"That leads me to another question," Mrs Forester said, leaning back against the seat once more. "Why this journey?"

"To the Kennedy land, you mean?" At her nod, he sighed. "I'm not sure. It seemed to be something I needed to do. Perhaps I just wanted to meet Archie's family."

Rebecca frowned. "If you've never met them, and you're not sure why you are going, then what do you hope to find there?"

Horatio shrugged. "Peace, I suppose."

~~~

Rebecca watched the young man closely as he remembered his friend; had, in fact, been watching closely the entire time. He was not fooling her--indeed, she wondered if he had fooled anyone, with the possible exception of himself. She was all too familiar with the sadness on Hornblower's face. The last time she'd seen it was on her cousin when they'd thought Jules dead.

Men could be so ridiculous about such things. Love was love, and when you found it, it should be enjoyed. It was possible to be discreet, though she imagined discretion would be much harder in the close quarters of a ship at sea. And even in her time, the navy's punishment for such activities was a swift, public death.

All right, so perhaps his caution in deluding himself was prudent, if he had done so. If not, then pretending he had was a fine second choice as a shield. Either way, she could see the pain his friend's death had caused, and if that death had been before Hornblower had admitted his feelings, then she imagined he was carrying around a fair amount of guilt and regret.

Guilt. "Wait...I seem to recall reading about a court martial recently. You were on the Renown, weren't you? Of course!" The article had been less than informative, praising the ship's captains and Hornblower and another lieutenant named Bush, but there had been no mention of a Mr Kennedy.

"Yes. That was my ship." He stared out the window, a sure sign any more questions would be neither welcome nor answered at this point.

An interesting reaction from one who had been nothing but open since she'd met him. She would have to ask around in Kingston and find out what the papers--and Hornblower--were not saying.

~~~

The rest of their ride passed mostly in silence. Horatio used most of the time to formulate what he would say when he saw Lord Kennedy. 'I'm sorry your son died to keep me from taking blame,' seemed rather inappropriate--beside which, he could not reveal such thoughts to anyone, or Archie's sacrifice would be wholly in vain.

No, he would not bring up the court martial. He would simply state that Archie--no, Lieutenant Kennedy--was the finest man he'd ever served with--no, that he'd ever known, and his loss was a great blow to England, but his actions in losing his life were in service to his country, and he had done his duty to the last. Then he would ask to see the grave, and that would be that.

His first thought as they pulled up to the house was that they had the wrong place. He'd known Archie's family had money, but this was clearly the land of someone with a great deal of money. Someone who would not, could not, in any way resemble Archie, who'd never put on airs a day in his life. At least not since Horatio had known him.

As they rolled to a stop, however, Horatio noticed a crest on another carriage parked in the drive. He recognised it instantly--it was the one emblazoned on Archie's sea chest. Apparently they had the right farm after all.

Once he and Mrs Forrester were at the door, Horatio took a deep breath and knocked. When there was no answer, he knocked again. It was only after a third knock that a scowling servant opened the door. "Yes?" the man asked impatiently.

"We are looking for Lord Kennedy," Horatio said. "Is he here?"

"Lord Kennedy is not accepting visitors."

The man began to shut the door, but Horatio placed a hand against it to forestall him. "Please. I served with his son, Archie, and I was hoping to speak with Lord Kennedy for a minute."

"If you served with Lieutenant Kennedy, then you can understand why His Lordship is not receiving visitors. Now go." The door closed a little further.

Mrs Forrester placed her hand on the door as well, her strength surprising for a woman so delicate. "Now look, we've come here to see Lord Kennedy, and we have no intention of leaving until we do, so unless you'd like the two of us camped out on your porch, I suggest you fetch him."

The servant glared at her. "Very well," he ground out. "Follow me." He turned on his heel and left them to shut the door and hurry after him before he disappeared.

They were led into a drawing room and told to wait. A clock ticked loudly in the corner as they both sat on the edge of the sofa and examined the room. Several minutes later, one of the doors opened, and a short, stocky man in his late fifties strode in. "Can I help you?" he asked brusquely.

Horatio rose. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs Forrester do the same. "Lord Kennedy?" he asked, though the man resembled Archie enough that he knew he was right. The hair was blonder, and liberally streaked with grey, and the blue eyes were cold, with none of the spark Archie's had had, but the fact that this was Archie's father was still clear.

The man stopped several feet from Hornblower. "Of course. What is it that you want?"

"Sir, I served with your son, Archie. My name is Commander Hora--"

"I know who you are, *Commander*, and I know how you achieved your rank. And frankly, I am amazed that you dared to show your face here."

Horatio blinked. "Sir, I protest. I do not know what you have against me, but--"

"Don't you? My son is dead, *sir*, I would have thought that that would be a hint that I do not wish to see the man responsible for the manner of his death."

"I believe, *sir*, that the man responsible for Lieutenant Kennedy's death is dead and at the bottom of the sea. I saw him put there myself."

Lord Kennedy snorted. "Well, you believe as you will, Commander. What is it you have come for?"

Given the older man's bitterness, Horatio skipped straight to the point. "I should like to see Archie's grave."

"Why, to make certain you put him in the ground?"

"I wish to pay my respects."

At that Lord Kennedy laughed out loud. "You wish to see what your ambition has wrought, Commander? Very well. Wait here."

Horatio could not look at Mrs Forrester as they waited. He would have to explain to her soon enough, he feared. Thankfully, Lord Kennedy returned quickly with a vase in hand.

"You wish to see my son's grave? Very well. Here." He thrust the covered vase into Horatio's hands. "The remains of Archibald Kennedy."

Horatio stared in stunned silence at the cold porcelain in his hands. This was *not* Archie. This was a cold, meaningless container. Archie was warm and funny, not some inanimate drawing room accessory. "I don't understand."

"We could not take the body as it was back home. It was either have him buried here in Jamaica, or burn the body and take the ashes back to bury later. So you see, Commander," Lord Kennedy finished scathingly, "you are holding what is left of my son now that you are done with him."

Very carefully, Horatio placed the vase on the table in front of the sofa. "I see. Thank you. I'm afraid we've intruded on your time long enough." For the first time since Lord Kennedy's entrance, Horatio looked at Mrs Forrester, hoping she would understand and forgive him for not allowing time for her business intentions.

She stepped up beside him. "Yes, you're quite right, Commander." Funny how that word only sounded like a curse when Lord Kennedy said it. "If you will excuse us, my Lord, we'll be taking our leave. Thank you for your...hospitality."

Mrs Forrester led Horatio out of the room, back down the hallways, past servants who moved away from the door quickly. They were in the carriage and out of sight of the house when she exploded. "Insufferable, puffed-up little man! I'm sorry for his grief, but really, that was inexcusable!"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Commander, but anyone could see that you were completely in shock when he...did what he did. And to be so cruel to you on top of that...I have a great aversion to cruelty." She settled herself for a moment then asked, "How are you?"

Horatio wet his parched lips. "I am fine. I can understand Lord Kennedy's lack of attention to my feelings, really. He has just lost his son."

"Really? And how many times did he visit his precious son in jail?"

After a moment's thought, Horatio shook his head. "Never. How did you know that?"

"You've never met the man. And something tells me you spent every minute you could by Lieutenant Kennedy's side."

"I did spend a fair amount of time there, yes."

Her warms hands covered his cold ones. "Commander, if you don't mind my asking, do you know why he seems to blame you for his son's death?"

Horatio shook his head again. "I can only imagine it is because Archie died saving me."

"He took a bullet for you?"

"Something like that, yes." He could tell her what was public record. And perhaps a little more. She had proven herself trustworthy, after all. "Our captain was ill after a fall into one of the ship's holds." *And before,* he thought, but that part he could not reveal. "He *did* fall, ma'am. But there are those who would not believe it. I'm afraid I was accused of pushing him, and to save me, Archie took the blame."

"But I thought he died from wounds sustained in battle."

"He did. However, if he had stayed in bed instead of going into that courtroom, he might have recovered. And worse, he will now forever be branded a mutineer."

Mrs Forrester gripped his hands tighter. "None of this is your fault, Commander. I'm sure you did the best you could through the whole affair. And Lord Kennedy has no right to blame you."

"Perhaps. But blame me he does." The memory of that vase would not leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried to banish it. "I can't get over that vase. I saw those men from the Kennedy farm cart him away, and he was whole. Now...."

"What men?"

Horatio sat back, his hands slipping from hers. "The ones in the vestibule when we left. They were the ones who came for the body."

Her reaction surprised him. "Damn! Commander, did you notice anything odd about these men in the hospital?"

"Such as?"

"I think I might have seen something on them when we left, but I'm not certain. Did they have silver...jewellery of some kind here?" She pointed to her right temple.

Horatio frowned in thought. "Now that you mention it, yes, I believe they did wear something there."

"Damn! Damn. Damn. Damn."

"Mrs Forrester?"

"I think it's time for you to meet some friends of mine. And you might as well call me Rebecca."

~~~

"Another round, gentlemen?"

"Well, Mr Ford, if you insist...."

Phileas signalled for more ale, then turned to the man beside him. "Phil, please. And I do insist. So," he said, leaning back in his chair, "what were you saying?"

"We were there for the whole trial, we were. And a right nasty bit of business it was, too, blaming Mr Kennedy like that. If there's blame it's on that bastard, Saw--ow!"

"Is there something wrong, Mr Styles?" Phileas asked, managing to hide his frustration.

"No, sir," he said, glaring at his smaller companion. "Banged my foot on the table is all."

After another glance at Styles's companion, Phileas was certain he would get no more information out of either of them. "So, how long are you gentlemen in port?"

The older one, Matthews, answered cautiously. "A couple of weeks, I think. Might be less. You never know with the war and all."

Fogg and Verne exchanged a look. They needed to get Styles alone. He'd be a good source of information on the whole Hornblower situation without his watchdog. But that didn't seem to be likely this evening.

Phileas was about to pay his bill when a somewhat familiar figure walked into the room. He frowned, trying to place the man, then froze. Shaking his head at Verne's questioning glance, Phileas watched as the newcomer made his way across the room. He appeared to have no particular destination in mind, but to Phileas's trained eye, his plan was obvious. It was a familiar room canvassing technique, one Phileas himself had learned early. The man was heading directly for their table.

Sure enough, the man stopped at Phileas's table moments later. "Evening, gents. Mind if I join you?" The seamen from the Retribution saved Phileas from having to answer by encouraging the man to sit down. If they knew who he really was, Phileas doubted they would be so welcoming. Ah, well, let them encourage all they wanted. It was clear this man would get no more information from them than Phileas himself did.

Just as the newcomer sat down, Fogg saw Rebecca's carriage drive past. They were back, then. Excellent. A perfect excuse to leave. He glanced at Jules, then stood. "Sorry, we can't stay. My sister has returned."

He paid his bill and left as soon as he could, Verne hot on his heels. Experience kept Jules silent until they reached the landing outside their room. "What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."

"I did," he said, opening their door. Whatever he was about to say next, however, was halted by the sight of Rebecca seated on the bed, and Horatio Hornblower in the chair.

Rebecca stood as they walked in and closed the door. "Ah, Phileas. I think we all need to talk."

~~~

She'd known Phileas would be mad, but she hadn't expected him to explode. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Now Phil--"

"Don't try and placate me, Rebecca!" Phileas was hovering over Hornblower in three steps. "How did you cajole her into bringing you here?" he growled.

Hornblower blinked. He opened his mouth once, twice, finally managing to strangle out, "Sir, it was Mrs Forrester's idea."

Phileas turned to Rebecca. "You've decided to do this my way now?"

"Would you please *sit* down?"

"Rebecca--"

With a frustrated sigh, Rebecca put her hand over Phileas's mouth. "For the last time, sit down and be quiet."

After a few seconds, he stalked over to the bed and sat. "You have an explanation?" he ground out.

"I brought Commander Hornblower here because I think he can help us."

"Oh, so you've told him everything, then?"

Jules sat down on the bed, his leg touching Phileas's. "We should hear what she has to say," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Jules." Rebecca stepped back until she was beside Hornblower's chair. "Commander Hornblower, this is my brother, Phileas, and our associate, Jules. We work for the British government."

Hornblower raised an eyebrow at Jules. "He is French, is he not?"

"Yes, but he is on our side, I assure you," Rebecca answered immediately. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jules put a hand on top of Phileas's clinched fist. Good. Jules would keep him in check. To insult Jules's loyalty was as bad as insulting Phileas himself.

"I meant no offence," Hornblower said, "but I have been allied with the French before, and nothing good came of it."

"Of course," Jules responded, "The battle at Muzillac."

Hornblower frowned, suspicion darkening his eyes. "You've heard of it?"

"We work for the government," Rebecca repeated, giving Jules a stern warning look. "We gathered a great deal of information before coming on this assignment."

"You mean you've researched me?"

Rebecca pressed her fingertips to her forehead. This was not going as she'd planned. "Look, Commander, let's start over. We're here to stop a group of people from committing a crime against England. We're not sure what they're going to do, but we do know they've been following you around Kingston."

"Following me? Why?"

"We don't know. Can you think of any reason why they would be interested in you?"

Horatio stood suddenly, crossing to the window, as if to look for his observer. "I don't even know who 'they' are; how am I supposed to know why they're following me?"

"The men at Lord Kennedy's farm, the ones wearing the odd jewellery, they work for an organisation that subverts the rightful government when it suits their purposes. For whatever reason, they have taken an interest in you, and we would like your assistance in figuring out why."

Horatio whirled around to face them. "Archie's family is involved in this group?"

"We're not sure, but given that those men work for Lord Kennedy...it does seem likely."

"Damn," he said softly, then he straightened. "Of course I shall be happy to help."

Rebecca smiled. "Are you quite sure? You may not like what you find out."

"There is nothing I could find there that would possibly be distasteful to me personally."

"Yes, well, your help is much appreciated," Phileas said sarcastically. Another look from Rebecca silenced him again.

She turned back to Hornblower. "Your help *is* appreciated, Commander."

Horatio nodded. "I am, of course, a servant to my country above all else."

The faint bitterness Rebecca heard behind those words surprised her. Clearly there was a story here she would need to dig up, as if there weren't enough unknown in this situation already. "Very well." She looked at Hornblower closely. The meeting with Lord Kennedy had taken its toll on the young man. "It's getting late; shall we all meet in the morning and work out how to proceed? Nine o'clock?" It would also give her time to explain further to her still-seething cousin.

"As you please." He made a slight bow in her direction, then another toward Phileas and Jules, still seated on the bed. "Gentlemen." With that, he left.

Phileas had the good grace to wait until the door closed before he began his complaint. "Rebecca, what the bloody hell are you playing at?"

"He can be trusted, Phileas. Based on his history as we know it and what I've seen, he will be a helpful ally."

"I don't like it."

"Imagine my surprise." She sat down in the chair. "We don't tell him everything. If we told him we were from the future, the poor man's head would explode. He knows we work for the British government, so some level of secrecy would be expected. This may not be the only time he encounters the League of Darkness, so I fail to see the harm in acquainting him with them."

She rose and went to check the window, almost out of habit. "He also knows far more about this time and place than we do--we know better than most the difference between reality and how history records it." Her last point made, she turned back to her cousin. "What reason could we possibly have at this point not to enlist his help?"

Phileas sighed. "I suppose you have a point."

"Trust me, Phileas. This will work out."

"I know it will work out. It's *how* it will work out that worries me."

Jules smiled. "You worry too much."

"So you keep telling me," Phileas replied, but the light in his eyes as he looked at the younger man was affectionate now.

"So," Rebecca said, "we tell him what the League of Darkness is about, we find out what he might know that they want to know, and take it from there?"

Phileas nodded. "It's as good a plan as any."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"There's just one problem we haven't dealt with," he added. "We aren't the only ones taking an interest in Hornblower's predicament."

Rebecca blinked. "What?"

"Another agent was questioning the seamen we were talking with just before we left the tavern."

"Who? And present or future?"

"Oh, definitely present."

When he didn't explain further, she moved to stand next to the bed. "Phileas? Who was it?"

"My father."

~~~

Jules kept an eye on Phileas as they both went about their nightly rituals. He'd been quiet since Rebecca had left. Not that he was ever a chatterbox, but there was a stillness about his movements that suggested preoccupation.

Or a man about to snap.

So far, Jules had been loathe to bring up Sir Boniface, but now he had to. If Phileas was going to lose it, better here and now than tomorrow. "You didn't mention that was your father in the tavern."

"Well I couldn't exactly introduce you, now, could I?"

"No, I suppose not." Memories of Phileas's desire to be out of this time came back, more suspicious in light of this new information. "You didn't seem very surprised to see him. Did you know he was here?"

Dark eyes flashed at him, then Phileas visibly relaxed himself. "Strange that I still find your perceptive abilities surprising." He took off his shirt tiredly. "I knew he was working in this area around this time, but I thought we'd have another month before he appeared in Kingston. I suppose the Service must've gotten word about the League of Darkness activity here."

"We'll need to be extremely careful now if present day agents are looking into this."

"There's your ability for understatement."

Jules climbed into the bed, eyes still following Phileas's movements around the room. "And your ability to put personal feelings aside? How is that? Can you ignore whatever problems were unresolved with him?"

"I can do what must be done," he answered as he sat on the bed. His hand slid through Verne's hair. "There is no need to worry about me."

"Someone has to," Jules murmured, half distracted as Phileas leaned down for a kiss. "You don't worry about yourself."

Phileas smiled. "Of course not. *That* is what I have you for."

"Oh, is *that* why you keep me around?"

"Just one reason of many, I assure you." Another, longer kiss laid the conversation to rest as they both became much more interested in other things.

~~~

"Has anything happened yet?"

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder as Hornblower kneeled down just to her left. "Nothing yet. Did you see anything?"

"A few guards, but nothing eventful. What do you think they're up to?"

"I really don't like to guess."

They watched in silence for a while as the sun moved closer and closer to the horizon. Rebecca wanted to have some idea of what was going on before nightfall. Breaking into a building for information was generally much more successful if one had some clue what to look for.

And they had to meet up with Phileas and Jules before they made another move. She'd made that promise that morning when they'd all met to plan. It had been the only way to talk Phileas into doing some searching in Kingston instead of coming along. She had no doubt he would come looking for her if she did not turn up as planned.

Hornblower started. "Look," he whispered, pointing to the back of the main house. "Those men--the guns they are carrying are very strange."

"Indeed." She recognised them, but of course there was no way Hornblower would. They wouldn't be made until the late 1850's. So they'd brought back more than just machines, then.

"Oh my God!" Hornblower exclaimed in a fierce whisper.

"What?" She saw a new man then, one without a gun. He was nearly an invalid from the looks of him. Blonde hair hung in an unruly mess around his shoulders, and even from her hiding place she could see he was quite pale. He was walking around without assistance, but only just managing.

"He...." Hornblower seemed to be having trouble forming words.

Rebecca turned to see that Hornblower had gone quite pale himself. "What is it, Commander?"

"He...he is the very image of Archie Kennedy." Hornblower shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The likeness took me by surprise. Archie never mentioned an identical twin."

Identical twin. Rebecca took out a spyglass and studied the young man on the lawn more closely. On closer view, he was even paler than she'd thought, with dark circles not just under his eyes, but surrounding them. He looked half dead.

Or dead, only not dead anymore. With her heart sinking somewhere around her stomach, Rebecca put the spyglass away. "Stay here," she said softly as the armed men led the sick one around the corner behind the house again. "If they come back with the unarmed man, follow them. Otherwise, stay put."

She hurried off before he could protest, hoping she was right in her assumption that they wouldn't come back this way. If her suspicions were correct, she did not want Hornblower following them alone.

From a new perch, Rebecca watched as the blond man shuffled into a building behind the house. Two guards remained at the front door, the other two headed around opposite sides of the building. Rebecca watched as they crossed in back, setting up a sentry to cover both sides of the building as equally as possible.

"I've got to get a look inside there," she muttered as she scanned the area. There was a row of small windows along the top of the building, close to the roof, large enough to give her a view, but of no help if she wanted to get inside. In order to even see into them, however, she needed to get to the roof, which would take more time than she would have before the sentries saw her.

Unless.... There was a tree directly behind the building. The arch of the roof was low enough--she could make it onto there from the tree, if she jumped.

She hoped Hornblower had stayed put. If anything happened, she'd like to have someone to explain to Phileas where she'd gone before he tore the Kennedy farm apart. They'd never find out anything if he came storming in like vengeance itself.

And they'd certainly never find anything if she didn't move now. She darted through the brush surrounding the estate as best she could, reaching the tree quickly. She cursed the lack of leaf cover as she climbed, but then the sentries seemed to be the usual League of Darkness idiots, and had not once looked up to see if danger were possible from that direction, not in all the time she'd been watching them.

She held her breath at the muted thud her landing on the roof caused, but after a moment with no cries of alarm from below, she moved towards the front of the building and ventured a peek over the side. One sentry was just heading around the front of the building, which meant the other should show any second. Rebecca waited until the second one was past her perch on the roof, then lowered her upper body over the side to peer into the window.

The blond man was alone on a bed in a sparsely furnished room, the small amount of natural light from the high, thin windows augmented by a couple of candles. He held a book in his lap, but as she watched, he dropped it to the side of the bed and blew out the candles. She had just enough time to see him turn onto his side and thump the bed or pillow--she couldn't quite make out which--before she had to pull herself up.

While she waited for the pause in guard attention again, Rebecca made her way to the back of the building. When it was safe, she leaned over the edge and looked into the nearest window. A machine stood in a large room, along with a few other contraptions. Though there were some modifications since the last version she'd seen, there was no mistaking the machine's identity.

They had to get into this building, and the sooner the better. The windows were of no help as entrances, and she was loathe to try the front door, though it could be used as a last resort. If there were a back door, that would be helpful, but, of course, the building was not designed to be helpful. There was no door, only a high fan covered with grating.

Then again, it was a large fan, the kind you would find in a factory. If they could get the grating off, they could possibly slip through. It could only be two of them, though; any more would surely attract attention with such a method of entry. Only so many people could jump onto a roof and climb down a wall before even idiots took notice. No, it would have to be her and one other person. And she knew just who that person had to be.

She hoped Hornblower wasn't afraid of heights.

~~~

"Where is he going?"

"How should I know?"

"You're supposed to be the expert on the man. He did father you, after all."

Jules refused to even show the least bit of repentance as Phileas shot him a glare. That look might terrify the average criminal, spy or traitor, but Jules knew better than to let it bother him. They'd been tracking Sir Boniface--or just Boniface, as he'd not yet been knighted at this point--for hours, and had yet to learn one thing about why the man was in Kingston. Either he knew even less about the League's activities than Phileas himself did, or he was just there on his way somewhere else and the meeting the night before was a coincidence.

"Fogg, perhaps it really was a chance meeting last night. Are you sure he wasn't just in the tavern to have a drink?"

"I told you, Verne," Phileas whispered, eyes never leaving his father as the man ambled along the street, "nothing is a coincidence where that man is concerned."

They followed Boniface down several other streets, the methods of surveillance much more natural to Verne after several years of working with the Foggs. He was surprised, therefore, when he looked away for a second, and when he looked back, Boniface was gone.

"Where did he go?"

Phileas was scanning both sides of the street. "I don't know." They moved closer to the last place they'd seen him. There was a dim alleyway nearby, but as they turned down it, they still saw no sign of Boniface Fogg.

At least not until they heard the click of a pistol as it was cocked behind them. "Turn around. Slowly, with your hands in the air."

Hands raised, Phileas and Jules turned to see Boniface, his gun trained at Jules. Whether it was luck, or brilliant observation, Jules had no idea, but he couldn't fault the man's tactics--Phileas would be far more likely to risk getting shot himself than he would be to risk Jules taking a bullet.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you've spent the better part of the day following me."

"Following you?" Phileas said scornfully. "You flatter yourself, sir."

Boniface took two steps forward, within reach if either of them were to attempt to take the gun, a clear indication that he considered them to be of little threat. "Let's not make this difficult. Tell me who you work for and what you're after, and I might let you live."

Phileas laughed, the harsh sound causing Jules to frown in his direction. He wished again it were anyone but Phileas helping him with the surveillance. Given Phileas's history with his father, the whole situation begged for trouble.

Several seconds ticked by before Phileas answered. "All right," he said, dropping his hands slowly. "You want to know who we work for? The British government."

"Impossible."

"Is it? You really think they tell you everything, Fogg?"

The gun remained steady, but Jules recognised a slight hint of possible belief in Boniface's gaze. "Prove it," he said finally.

"Crystal fire in the black of night lights the entire sky."

The words meant nothing to Jules, but apparently Boniface recognised them, because the gun dropped instantly. "I was not informed of anyone else in the area."

"Yes, well, they don't make it a habit to inform us of each other's movements, now, do they?"

Boniface looked around. "We shouldn't talk here. Have you a room or someplace safe we can go?"

"This way." Phileas led his father out of the alleyway and toward The Blue Diamond, leaving Jules to follow behind, thoroughly confused.

The walk to the inn was accomplished in total silence; it was only once they were safely locked in their room that any of them spoke again. "Are you here on the trail of the League?" Phileas asked Boniface, offering him the only chair in the room and seating himself on the end of the bed. Jules sat down behind him to watch.

"Yes. I heard there was activity here, but I'm afraid that's all I've been able to turn up so far. Those seamen at the tavern last night were of much less help than I had hoped."

"Why did you target them?"

"I'd been told that this recent mutiny business was possibly mixed up in the whole mess. They were stationed on the ship, and have been under the direct command of one of the officers involved for a number of years."

"Hornblower?"

Boniface's eyebrows shot up. "You know him?"

"Yes. You think he's involved?"

"No," he answered immediately with a shake of his head. "Based on his record and the amount of time he's spent at sea, it's highly unlikely he would have anything to do with the League. But his men might have seen something they didn't even realise was important. Not that they'd tell me anything by the time you finished with them. Where did you learn whatever interrogation techniques left them so wary?"

Jules braced himself, but Phileas merely laughed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Besides, the older man, Matthews, wasn't about to let Styles say anything to anyone. Now if we could get him alone...."

"He'd be a great source of information, to be sure. But I don't think Matthews would let him out of his sight." Boniface sighed. "So what clues are you following now?"

"The League has been following Hornblower, so we've loosely allied ourselves with him in hopes we can find out what he knows that interests them."

"You've revealed yourselves to someone involved?" From Boniface's tone, Jules got the feeling that was definitely not standard procedure to him.

Phileas sighed as if preparing for a fight he was all too familiar with. "We told him very little. And he has been of great assistance."

"Yet you asked me if I thought he was involved."

"Merely to find out your own assessment of the situation. I had already made my own judgement on the matter, believe me."

Jules thought it best to step in quickly. "Gentlemen, if we could possibly decide how to proceed?"

The reminder allowed Phileas to get himself back under control. "Of course. Let's divide up tasks, shall we?"

After a moment, Boniface nodded, and Jules relaxed slightly. They decided that Phileas, Jules and Rebecca would continue to work the Hornblower and Kennedy connection. Boniface had learned of another possible connection with a Lieutenant Buckland, another of the men involved in the Renown mutiny. Once the decisions were made, Boniface wasted no time in taking his leave.

When Boniface had had enough time to leave the inn, Jules turned to Phileas, "Are you--"

Phileas put his hand over Jules's mouth and held up one finger in warning. "I'll just go and get some ice from downstairs," he said, his tone conversational, but still a bit louder than necessary. He quickly opened the door to find Boniface there, hand poised to knock.

"I'm sorry," Boniface said with a smile, "I seem to have misplaced my hat." He looked over at a small table next to the chair, where his hat lay.

After a quick look from Phileas, Jules grabbed the hat and took it to Boniface at the door. "Is there anything else we can do for you, sir?"

"No, thank you."

"Then I'll walk you out," Phileas offered, stepping out of the room. "I was on the way downstairs myself."

Jules paced the room for the few minutes it took Phileas to leave, get the ice, and return. "Any problems?" he asked the second Phileas walked back into the room.

"None," he replied, shutting the door and putting the ice by the bed. "He is now safely outside the building as far as I know.

"You knew he was still in the hall?"

Phileas's smile was almost fond. "Another old trick, or at least it is to me. Always leave something behind if you're planning to skulk outside a room after you go. It's a good excuse if you're caught."

"So you saw the hat?"

"I expected it. He doesn't trust us completely, and why should he?"

Jules shook his head. "You realise I don't understand any of what happened in the alley? Crystal night sky?"

"Crystal fire in the black of night lights the entire sky."

"That means something, apparently?"

"It's an old password, of sorts," Phileas explained as he poured himself a drink. "Apparently I paid more attention to my father's old war stories than I thought. When we were standing there, it came back to me."

Jules shook his head as Phileas offered him a drink before sitting down on the bed. "So you just happened to remember the exact phrase they were using for the Secret Service in 1802?"

"Well, I was mostly certain it was the right one. They didn't change them as often back then--or don't now, depending on how you look at this. Most phrases were good for at least a year or two."

"And if you'd been wrong?"

"He was going to shoot us if we didn't come up with a plausible explanation anyway. It was the best chance we had. And there's always a chance that if I was off by a year or two it could be explained away. It was almost certain to work."

"Almost?" Jules took a deep breath and reached for the decanter. Suddenly, a drink seemed like a very good idea.

~~~

Rebecca didn't bother to knock before she entered Phileas and Jules's room, Hornblower close behind her. Her eyebrows shot up at the site of them both drinking. "Jules, hard liquor, at this hour?"

"It's been a long day, Rebecca. We ended up in a dark alley."

She glanced at Phileas. "What happened?"

"We ran into my--into someone we knew."

"Who did you--oh!" Her eyes widened. "The man from yesterday?" Phileas nodded. "Oh dear," Rebecca turned to Horatio. "We have...friends in town."

Hornblower nodded. "I see," he responded, his tone making it clear he didn't. But she knew he would leave it at that. "Perhaps we'd best just get to the plan?"

"Good idea." Rebecca turned back to the bed. "We saw a man convalescing at Kennedy's farm. Commander Hornblower says he looks exactly like Lieutenant Kennedy."

Phileas frowned over at Hornblower. "A brother?"

"If he is, Archie never mentioned him."

"Rebecca?" Phileas poured himself another drink. "Well? I can tell you have an idea in that head of yours."

She shot a concerned look at Hornblower, then sighed. "I managed to get a look inside the building where they're keeping this man. Most of the building is taken up with a machine that I'm fairly certain is the machine we're looking for."

"Well?" Phileas asked when she didn't continue straight away.

"It's the vitalisphere."

Jules gasped. "It's here? Then that man--"

"Jules." Rebecca turned to Horatio. "Perhaps you'd like to have a seat, Commander?"

"Thank you, but I'll stand."

"Very well." Rebecca took the decanter Phileas had left on the table by the bed and filled a glass. "The machine Lord Kennedy is housing on his farm is called the vitalisphere. Its purpose is...well, it's to bring the dead back to life."

Horatio blinked several times. "That's impossible."

"No, it's not. We've seen it work. And we've had reports that indicated it was much improved since the last time we saw it, when the effects were temporary. It's possible they've found a way to bring someone back permanently."

"You never mentioned that, Rebecca," Phileas growled.

Rebecca kept her eyes firmly on Hornblower as she responded, "I didn't realise it applied, Phileas."

"So then the man..." Hornblower looked up from his hands, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't say the words.

"The man you saw is, in all likelihood, Archie Kennedy." She stepped forward and handed him the drink. "Perhaps now you'd like to sit down?"

"Yes, thank you." He sat woodenly in the chair and took a large drink of the liquor, then coughed.

As she moved to his side, Rebecca asked, "Are you all right, Commander?"

Surprisingly, Hornblower laughed. "I think you'd better call me Horatio."

~~~

Horatio sat there, his mind reeling, barely listening to the buzz of planning going on around him. Archie...alive? It was not possible. He had seen the man die. And no matter what these people seemed to think, dead was dead. No one came back from the dead.

Well, Archie had done so once, in a way, he supposed. But drifting off in a boat and being assumed dead was not the same as dying in front of a witness. He'd stopped breathing. Horatio had watched Dr Clive check for signs of life. Not that Dr Clive was the best surgeon in the navy, but surely he could tell a dead person from a live one.

Those men who arrived so quickly with the special box...could it really be true? If they'd hurried...if there really was such a machine as Rebecca had said....

No. It was not possible. He barely knew these people--they said they worked for the government, but for all he knew they were escapees from a lunatic asylum.

Still, he had seen Archie's twin walking around with his own two eyes. And a twin he must be, though Archie had never mentioned him. Perhaps they'd had a falling-out and Archie hadn't wanted to speak of it.

Everything about the man was *so* like Archie, though. Not just outward appearance, but his walk, his mannerisms--or what brief ones he'd seen that afternoon. It had been like going back in time--Horatio had been instantly transported back to that prison in Spain, when Archie had still been sick, and Horatio himself had been blissfully unaware of his own deeper feelings....

No. It was not Archie.

"Horatio?" Rebecca interrupted his thoughts. "Are you willing to go along with this plan?"

He nodded, though he'd heard none of it. He had no worries, though. He was sure Rebecca would go over it again. She was very thorough. He suspected with a brother like that, she had to be.

All that mattered was that they made it into that building and took care of that impostor. His Archie was dead, and this would prove it.

~~~

He should have listened to the plan. As he eyed the tree, and the distance he had to jump to get from the tree to the roof, Horatio nearly changed his mind. But the memory of Archie's twin walking the grounds gave him the impetus he needed to climb up after Rebecca.

It was an easy enough task, once he was safely on the roof--if he discounted the remnants of the stupefying fear and did not look down as he lowered himself down the rope and into the hole between fan blades. He pulled the grating till it nearly met the wall again and climbed the rest of the way to the ground with his eyes closed.

At least Rebecca had the good grace not to laugh as he nearly fell because he didn't see the floor. She held his arm briefly to steady him, then motioned for him to follow.

He looked over at the machine. A vitalisphere, they'd called it. So this was the great pile of metal that supposedly gave men the power of God. In the near darkness, it appeared to be a great hulk of nothing, with only a few pieces of metal glinting in the occasional shaft of moonlight from the high windows.

Rebecca grabbed his arm and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "I believe his room is on the other side of this door. Cover his mouth before you wake him. If he doesn't know you, put him back to sleep forcibly. Understand?"

Horatio nodded.

"Are you certain you're ready for this?"

He nodded again. "A little late for second thoughts now, isn't it? Let's go."

He stepped through the door ahead of her and crept silently across the room. One lone candle burned low by the bed, its faint light flickering off the back of the man on the bed. His hair certainly looked like Archie's. But there was only one way to find out.

With a deep breath, Horatio put his hand over the man's mouth. The man immediately rolled onto his back, a pistol in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Horatio saw Rebecca take a step forward, then stop. But his attention was focused on the blue eyes of the man pinned under him on the bed. Eyes that widened in shock.

And then in recognition.

The man said something, but it was muffled. His heart beginning to believe what his brain refused to accept, Horatio removed his hand.

"Horatio?"

There was no mistaking the voice. Or the knowledge. Any doubt possible was laid to rest by the man's next words. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Only Archie Kennedy would say such a thing under such circumstances. "I might ask you the same question--I'm not the one who died!"

"Shh!" As Rebecca came forward to quiet him, Horatio realised he'd very nearly yelled. The last thing they needed was to alert the guards.

Archie kept his pistol at the ready, pointing it in Rebecca's direction. "Who's she?"

"A friend. Archie, Rebecca Forrester. Mrs Forrester, this is, apparently, Archie Kennedy after all."

"Pleased to meet you," Archie said, putting his pistol on the bedside table.

Horatio frowned. They were not in a parlour for Heaven's sake. "Now that the introductions are done, perhaps you'd like to tell us what the hell is going on? Not that I'm not happy to see you, Archie, but..." The truth of the situation finally began making its way to his brain. "By God, Archie, you're alive!"

Rebecca warned him again to be quiet before Archie started to explain. "Not by God, Horatio. By that damned machine. You came through that door; I assume you saw it?"

"A little," Horatio answered. "It was very dark. What is it?"

"A creation that should never have been built. Not that I'm not happy to be alive, but I'd gladly die again to make sure that thing is blown to pieces."

Horatio gripped Archie's leg. "Don't say that," he hissed. "You're alive, and however it may have happened, do *not* wish yourself otherwise so carelessly."

"I'm sorry, Horatio. Of course I'm glad to be alive...at least now I am. But that does not change the fact that the machine must be destroyed. No man can be trusted with such a power."

Rebecca sniffed. "You've no idea. This is only part of the problem, Mr Kennedy, and we need to get you out of here so you can help us. If you are willing, that is?"

Horatio stiffened at the implication in her tone; he liked Archie's response even less. "I am more than willing, but would I be of more use here? I could, perhaps, find out more information. I've discovered a little so far--"

"No." Horatio's tongue caught up with his brain. "We are not leaving you here."

"But Horatio, I could--"

"No." He held Archie's eyes with his own. "Bad things happen when I leave you behind, and I will not do it again. Do not ask me to."

After a few seconds, Archie nodded. "Very well. If you think you can get me out of here, I will gladly go."

"Wonderful," Rebecca said. "I don't suppose you've suddenly gained a great deal of strength since this afternoon?"

"This afternoon?"

Horatio nodded. "We were watching you from the brush as you took a walk."

"Then you knew I was--"

"No. Not until you woke tonight."

"Oh. Then who did--"

"Gentlemen," Rebecca interrupted, "could we perhaps finish this in a safer location?"

Horatio frowned up at her. "Where are we going to take him? We can't exactly waltz into The Blue Diamond with a dead mutineer."

"We have a house rented on the other side of Kingston. It's isolated. When we first arrived, my brother thought it best to have a safe place to go if something went wrong."

Archie pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Just hand me my clothes over there, Horatio, and I'll be ready in a minute." Archie dressed quickly, but he was winded with the effort when he was done.

"How are we going to get you out of here?" Horatio muttered. He looked up at Rebecca. "I don't suppose the front door is an option now?"

"I'd rather not. The longer it is before he's missed, the better."

"We could use the secret exit," Archie said with a grin.

Horatio stared at him. "There's a secret exit?" He turned to Rebecca. "Why did you not know this?"

With a laugh, Archie picked up a small bag. "Because it's a secret, Horatio. She couldn't have known. I wouldn't have known if I hadn't spent time searching this place out of boredom once I was up and about. Come, I'll show you."

Archie led them back into the room with the machine. His hand on Archie's back for guidance in the dark, Horatio felt the increasing tension in his friend's muscles as they approached the machine.

Instead of going up to the machine, however, he led them around it. Just on the other side, he touched something on the wall. A door sprang open, but all Horatio could see on the other side was darkness. "Should have brought a candle," Archie said, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh well, it's a short trip."

They faltered down steps and along a corridor in the blackness for a few minutes until Archie stopped suddenly. Horatio could feel him moving and hear him fumbling around. Seconds later, another door swung inward above them, faint moonlight revealing steps that led up to the exit.

"Where are we?" Horatio asked.

"As near as I can tell, in the brush just beyond the back of that place I've been holed up in.

As Archie started up the steps, Horatio restrained him with a hand on his arm. "Let me go first."

"I'm quite capable of--"

"I'm well aware of what you're capable of normally, but you're not capable of killing a mouse today."

His lips thinned, but after a moment, Archie nodded curtly. "Very well."

Horatio climbed the steps, raising his head carefully through the opening. They were indeed in the brush, hidden from view of the building, as long as they stayed close to the ground. He stepped out of the passageway and onto the ground, motioning for Archie and Rebecca to follow him. As they crept along, Horatio risked a glance over the brush at the building. He could see one of the sentries strolling along, oblivious to the fact that he was guarding an empty building.

Well, he was still guarding the machine, but his prisoner was free. And would stay that way, as long as Horatio had anything to say about it.

They covered the short distance to where the others were waiting in no time. There was a quick look between Rebecca and her brother that Horatio supposed meant acknowledgement that Archie was who they'd assumed he was.

No provisions had been made to transport Archie, so Horatio helped him onto his horse, climbing up behind him. The group rode off swiftly, anxious to put as much distance between them and Lord Kennedy's estate as possible before Archie was discovered missing.

"Archie," Horatio asked, mouth close to his friend's ear, "does anyone come to check on you at night?"

"Sometimes." He had to tilt his head back to be heard over the rush of wind and gallop of hooves on the dry road. "But it's usually in the early hours of morning."

Horatio frowned. That gave them a few hours at best. His grip on both Archie and the reins tightened as he spurred his horse onward, willing it to get to the house before anything could be discovered back at the Kennedy farm. They were racing against time now.

It was a race he would not allow himself to lose.

~~~

Rebecca was the first to rein in her horse at the house. She longed for thick rows of trees to hide the place, but the isolated location would have to do. That and the fact that the house looked completely uninhabitable from the outside. The inside was much nicer than it appeared from first glance, but even inside it was not luxurious. Not that she suspected it would matter to Hornblower. He'd hide out in a shoe if he thought it would keep Kennedy safe.

As she watched the pair ride up, Rebecca hid a smile. Kennedy was sleeping, but in no danger of falling off, not with Hornblower's arms so tight around him. She wondered if he even realised what he was doing, how much it gave away.

Ah, well, not her problem. She was here to protect the future--which brought up an interesting dilemma about Kennedy that she did not want to think about. There would be time enough to deal with that later.

"Do you need some help, Commander?" she offered, wincing as Kennedy practically fell off the horse into Hornblower's arms. Kennedy seemed to be moving under his own power now that he was awake, but she doubted that would last long.

"No, thank you," Hornblower responded, walking carefully next to his friend as they went up the steps and through the door held open by Rebecca. "And I thought you were calling me Horatio."

"Of course." She followed them into the house, Phileas and Jules right behind. The main room was small, with only an armchair and a tiny sofa. At the far end there was a door to the only bedroom. She watched as Hornblower helped Kennedy through that door as well, and then it was closed, hiding the pair from view.

"Do we get a full explanation now, Rebecca?" Phileas asked.

She ducked into the small kitchen off the right side of the room, but he joined her a moment later, as did Jules. "Oh, very well, if it can't wait, I suppose I can make coffee and talk at the same time."

"One would hope."

She gave her cousin a glare before beginning her story.

~~~

Horatio helped Archie gently to the bed, or rather, he laid Archie on the bed, as his friend had only been semi-conscious at best. But Archie was still breathing, and that was the important thing. Presumably he would regain his strength as time went by. Really, for someone who had been dead, he was in excellent condition.

Now *he* sounded like a man in need of sleep. But as he couldn't sleep just yet, Horatio decided he could at least make Archie more comfortable. He slipped his friend's boots off. They were fine, soft leather, moulded perfectly to fit Archie's slender feet. At least Lord Kennedy had paid for nice clothes for the son he wouldn't let rest in peace.

Thoughts of Lord Kennedy only served to irritate Horatio. He remembered all too well the man's brilliant performance as he'd blamed Horatio for Archie's death, and the display with the 'ashes.' It was clear from whence Archie's love of theatre had come.

But Lord Kennedy had arranged to bring Archie back, and for that, Horatio was eternally grateful. It did not matter that the man had hidden his son away, it only mattered that he was alive. Alive, breathing, warm to the touch, and here.

Very carefully, Horatio covered Archie with a blanket. He stood over his friend for a moment, noting deep purple circles under Archie's eyes and the almost grey pallor of his skin. So like Spain all over again, only this time it was too narrow an escape even to bear thinking about. But once again Archie had eluded death, and that was what was important. He had to remember that.

As long as Archie was alive, everything else could be borne.

With one last pat on Archie's shoulder, Horatio turned and walked out of the room.

~~~

By the time Rebecca related the tale of the rescue, the coffee was ready and Hornblower had just entered the kitchen.

"How is Mr Kennedy?" Rebecca asked.

"Asleep. He was unconscious before he even landed on the bed."

She offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted gratefully. "He seemed to be all right other than the tiredness?"

"Yes. He was breathing steadily when I left him. I'll check on him again shortly."

"Actually, it might be better if you go check out of your hotel. We'll stay here and keep watch until you return."

At that, Hornblower frowned. "Check out? Why?"

"Someone will need to stay with Mr Kennedy. You could easily say you've decided to spend the rest of your leave in the country, could you not?"

"I suppose. But won't they be looking for me? Especially if I leave right after Archie's disappearance?"

Rebecca smiled. "Of course. That is why you are going to leave a very obvious trail in the wrong direction. Once you've done enough to confuse them, double back and return here. That should buy us a little time, at least."

"A little, perhaps," Hornblower agreed. "But what do we need time for? We know where the machine is and who is involved. Can't we just arrest them and destroy the damn thing?"

"Not until we know who else is involved. Lord Kennedy may be powerful, but he still had to have help. We need to at least try to find out who helped him."

Phileas broke in for the first time. "No offence, Hornblower, but are you certain you can cover your tracks well enough that you'll lead the League where you want them to go and not back here? I mean, you're used to water--covering tracks on a horse is a bit different."

To his credit, if Hornblower took the question as any sort of insult, it didn't show. "You needn't worry. I believe I can handle it."

"Very well, then."

Horatio finished his coffee. "It'll be light by the time I get to the hotel if I don't hurry, so I'll be off."

"Good luck," Rebecca called out as he opened the front door. He responded with a nod before disappearing out the door.

"He'll be fine," Jules said with confidence.

Phileas laughed. "You hardly know the man."

"No, but I remember enough of history to know what he's capable of."

"Just remember that history is never the same as what actually happened."

"You're right. Sometimes what happened is even better."

Clearing her throat loudly, Rebecca rose from the table. "Perhaps we should go into the other room and start a productive discussion on how to proceed?"

Both men looked as if they would rather continue their debate, but to her surprise they followed. As she walked out, she had to stifle a laugh at Jules's parting shot.

"I suppose you'd know more about the truth of history than I, Phileas. After all, you've lived so much more of it."

~~~

Horatio spurred his horse onward, anxious to reach the Blue Diamond and pack in order to leave the inn at first light. If all went well, he would be able to create a false trail, elude anyone following him, and still make it back to the house by nightfall. Not that he would abandon caution and risk discovery of their hiding place. But it could be done.

Perhaps once it was finished he could actually sleep.

The sleeping night man behind the desk was the only one about as Horatio entered the inn and ascended the stairs. He'd nearly finished packing when it occurred to him that he'd forgotten something in his plan.

Commodore Pellew. They were scheduled to dine that night. He'd have to stop and make his excuses before leaving Kingston. If, indeed, he could lie to the man. It was rather like trying to lie to one's father, only far more intimidating.

Still, he could do it--for Archie's sake, and for Pellew's. If this plan were discovered, at least the Commodore would be completely innocent of all knowledge of it. After all, the leave was Horatio's to do with as he pleased. He was not breaking any laws by taking it in the countryside.

Of course, the matter of Archie was a bit more difficult. Still, Lieutenant Archie Kennedy had been tried and convicted of mutiny and died for 'his' crimes. The law had been satisfied; Horatio had no intention of letting the navy find Archie and kill him again.

The first pale streaks of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky. He would need to wait an hour before he could reasonably call on Pellew. He decided food would be an acceptable substitute for sleep and made his way down the stairs, baggage in hand. No use leaving it where it could be searched while he ate.

He smiled grimly to himself as he realised he'd probably just had the first thought Phileas Fogg would truly approve of.

~~~

Hat in hand, Horatio knocked on Pellew's door. Bascar, Pellew's servant, answered immediately, in spite of the early hour. "Ah, Commander Hornblower, sir. The Commodore is through here."

Bascar led him back to Pellew's study, where the man himself was seated at his desk. The Commodore was much too controlled to show surprise, but it was at least evident in his question. "Mr Hornblower. What brings you here so early?"

"I apologise for the hour, sir, but I wished to give you my regrets for dinner this evening in person."

"Has your ship been completed sooner than expected, then?"

If it had, Pellew would certainly know, but Horatio realised it was a polite way of asking what he was doing. "No, sir. I have decided to take a few days of my leave enjoying the countryside."

"Ah." Though he was silent for a few moments, Horatio waited, knowing all too well that look that meant the Commodore had more to say. "Mr Hornblower...I want you to know that I am sorry for recommending you and Mr Kennedy for the Renown, at least in part. If I had known...well, it was less than either of you deserved."

Horatio blinked at the admission. "Thank you, sir," he said at length.

"On the other hand, if you had not been on board, I don't like to think what might have happened, both to the mission and to the ship and every man aboard her."

"I have little doubt what would have happened sir, and I don't like the thought of that outcome any more than you." Horatio cleared his throat. "It does not, however, make the price of preserving appearances any more palatable."

Pellew nodded curtly. "Yes, well, one cannot change the past."

"So I have been told, sir." Horatio straightened himself. "I should go, sir. I apologise again for having to miss dinner."

"It's quite all right. Perhaps we'll have the chance to dine when you return."

"I hope so." With a quick half-bow, Horatio turned and left the room.

~~~

It was mid-morning before Rebecca went into Kennedy's room. She'd looked in a number of times to satisfy herself that he still lived, but she hadn't disturbed him. Now, however, it was past time for him to eat something.

He stirred as she touched his shoulder. "Horatio?" he murmured, half awake.

"No, Mr Kennedy, it's Rebecca Forrester."

His eyes opened, but it still took a moment for him to focus. "Oh," he said dully. "Hello, Mrs Forrester."

"Rebecca, please. How are you feeling?"

He grimaced. "Like I caught a twelve-pounder in the chest."

"I'm sorry," she said with a frown. "I had hoped to find you feeling better."

"I do. Yesterday it felt like a twenty-four-pounder."

She laughed. "Perhaps by week's end it will be down to a pistol?"

"I hope so." He struggled to sit up a bit. "Where is Horatio?"

"He went into Kingston to gather his things. He should be back by nightfall."

Kennedy frowned. "Is that safe? They're certain to be looking for him."

"He's aware of that. He plans to lead them in the wrong direction."

"Oh."

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to move it too much. "Mr Kennedy, could you tell me who 'they' are?"

"Please, call me Archie. And I'm afraid I don't know much. My...my father mentioned a league a time or two, but I'm not sure what they're a league of. And I heard several mentions of a Count. Gregory, perhaps?" Archie shrugged lightly. "Never heard of him before all this. I don't remember much else--so much made little sense. I was not altogether myself while undergoing 'treatment' on the machine."

"Yes, Jules is dy--well, longing to talk to you about the machine when you're feeling up to it."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Perhaps later," he responded before opening them again. "I am hungry, though," he said, sounding almost surprised at the fact. "What time is it?"

"Just after 10, I believe."

"Could I possibly get some food?"

Rebecca rose with a smile. "Of course. I'll bring you something in a few minutes."

"Thank you." As she reached the door, he called out to her. "Mrs--I mean, Rebecca?"

"Yes?"

"When did Horatio leave?"

She suppressed a smile. "Some time during the night. He was hoping to make it to Kingston before dawn, but I doubt we'll see him before nightfall."

"Thank you." She saw him close his eyes as she turned to leave, and wondered if he would even be awake when she returned with food.

He was awake, though, to Rebecca's surprise, when she walked back into the room. "Breakfast," she said as she sat the tray on his lap with great care.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She made sure he could actually lift the fork before she returned to the door. "I'll come back and get the tray in a while," she said as she opened the door and stepped out into the small sitting room.

"How is he?" Jules asked, putting down his notebook and settling back in the room's only chair.

"He seems better." Rebecca shoved Phileas's feet off the sofa and perched herself on the edge of it. "He was feeding himself when I left."

Phileas swung himself around into a sitting position. "Good. By all means, help the man get well."

"Phileas, really. What else are we supposed to do?"

"Our duty."

Jules frowned at them. "I don't understand."

Rebecca rather thought it was Phileas's job to explain. After all, he was the one who had dragged Jules into this lifestyle. But it quickly became apparent Phileas had no intention of explaining. "Kennedy was meant to die, Jules. By living, he's altering history as we know it. I believe Phil would be much happier if he did not survive."

"Let an innocent man die because he might change history? That's a bit cold, Fogg, even for you."

Phileas looked to Rebecca, but she stayed silent. He could get himself out of this mess he'd created, or he could sleep alone. It made no difference to her. "Each person we come in contact with, we change history. We have no way of knowing how much damage we've done already. Imagine what someone who was meant to die could do by remaining here for years."

"And I still say you must allow for the possibility that history as we know it has already taken our changes into account," Jules argued. "What changes we make here could be merely protecting our future."

Rebecca rose from the sofa. "You're giving me a headache," she said lightly. "I think I'll go make some coffee while the two of you argue the point." Before they could really get into the argument, she escaped to the kitchen.

~~~

Jules shook his head as Rebecca left the room. "You can never let it go, can you? You always have to do the 'right' thing, at least according to your strange rules."

"You would rather have me potentially destroy the world because I don't have the courage to kill one man?" Phileas asked.

"I would have you take a chance."

"Oh, and hope the world is still there when we return?"

With a frustrated sigh, Jules got out of the chair and crossed the few steps to the sofa. "You honestly think letting this one man live will change so much?"

"I don't think it is worth the risk to find out."

"Phileas...we'll be in a time machine. If, by some strange chance, the world is so very different, we can correct the mistake."

"Perhaps. But then it can never be completely corrected now, can it?"

Jules shrugged. "Go back in time to stop the League from taking their first trip back. Destroy the time machine."

"Which is what we should have done to begin with."

"Now you're being stubborn. They'd have just built another machine. We needed to know their full plan."

Phileas pushed himself off the sofa and took a few angry steps. "The problem with you," he said tightly, "is that you've never been able to understand the concept of the good of one versus the good of the many."

"Oh, I understand it," Jules countered. "I just don't always agree with it. After all, isn't that what Sir Hugo used to justify killing innocent people to build his city of the future?"

The words had their desired effect. Phileas went rigid, reining in on his control until his emotions were locked behind a dam. As Jules calmed a bit, he sighed. He'd let himself go too far in the heat of argument. "Phileas, I didn't mean--"

"I know," he said, dropping into the chair and looking out the window.

There was nothing more to say until they both had time to cool down. "I'll just go check on Kennedy," Jules said, beating a hasty retreat.

~~~

"Come in," Archie answered to the soft knock at the door. Expecting to see Rebecca, he was surprised to see one of the two men who'd been waiting for them when he'd been rescued the night before.

The man hesitated just inside the doorway for a second before stepping into the room. "Good morning," he said as he crossed to the bed. "I thought I'd see if you were done with your tray."

"Yes, thank you." He'd only managed to eat half of what Rebecca had given him, but that was a good bit more than he'd eaten since he'd been through the machine, so it was progress. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Oh, of course. I'm Jules."

"You're French?"

Jules blinked. "Why does everyone feel the need to point that out?"

"In case you haven't noticed, we are at war with the French. Or at least I assume we still are."

"Yes, but not all the French are behind that war. Some are allied with the English."

"I've had an alliance with the French before. It did not work out well."

"I've lived in England for the last four years. Does that help?"

Archie stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "So is Jules a first name or a last?"

"Just Jules."

What an odd group. "Ah, yes, you'd be the one who wants to know about the machine."

"Yes, if you're feeling up to it."

Archie shrugged again. "Why do you want to know about it?"

"I want to know because I'm an inventor, I'm interested in things like that, and because that machine is dangerous, and we need to know just what it can do," Jules answered as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. "And I'm asking now because I'm avoiding the fight in the other room," he finished with a wry grin.

Brows raised, Archie turned his head to face Jules. "Rebecca?"

"Phileas."

"The rather rigid-looking man who was with you last night?"

Jules laughed. "He can be...stubborn sometimes. But he's not bad, really. He lives by a strange set of rules that I sometimes find it hard to follow."

It was Archie's turn to laugh. "I understand what you mean. How well do you know Horatio?"

"Not very well. I've only met him a couple of times."

"Ah, well, he's quite similar." Archie shifted, and Jules took the tray from him. Instead of leaving with it, however, he put the tray on the floor. "Oh, yes, you wanted to know about the machine." He took a deep breath; he could talk about this. He could. It was behind him. "Well, I can tell you it's powerful, puts off a lot of heat, and being inside it is more painful than ten deaths. I woke up inside it the first time, and I thought it was in Hell."

Jules blinked. "The first time?"

"They had me in it three times. I'm not sure how far apart the 'treatments,' as they called them, were or how long they lasted. It wasn't until sometime after the last one that I could really think again."

"Three treatments only? Interesting."

"Why?"

Jules leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I've seen an earlier version of this machine at work, but the effects were only temporary. How many days has it been since you were last in the machine?"

"I've no idea. My father did tell me I had a long life ahead of me. He could have been lying, but he seemed honest enough about it."

"Let's hope he was telling the truth, then," Jules said, picking up the tray as he stood. "We went to a lot of trouble to save you."

Archie sighed. "You'll never know just how grateful I am for that."

"Let's just hope everything works out as it should," Jules replied before taking a deep breath. "And now, I need to go deal with a hopefully calmer Phileas."

"Good luck," Archie said with a grin.

"Thank you. I may need it."

~~~

Horatio doubled back down the first trail he'd left. He knew he'd lost his followers not far out of Kingston, but he had to lay as many false trails as he could for them to attempt to trace. He'd chosen random paths in different directions all over the countryside until he felt he would be hopelessly lost without his compass and map. He knew the sea well enough in a pinch, but he much preferred a few tools when running over dry land.

As he stopped by a small stream to water his horse, Horatio checked the time. A little after two. He'd plant two more false trails and then head back towards the house. He'd gone that direction to begin with early in the morning in hopes of throwing any trackers off. They wouldn't expect him to head right for the hideaway in his first ride. It had taken a great deal of will not to keep riding for the house to check on Archie.

But he had work to do, and Archie would not be safe until he finished. Even then, it was still possible they would be discovered. There were only so many places to hide; someone would find them eventually. Then they would uncover Lord Kennedy's plot before that happened. If that was what it took to keep Archie safe, then that was what they would do.

That decided, Horatio mounted his horse and went back to work.

~~~

Jules checked the window again. When he'd come back in to the room prepared to face Phileas, he had instead found Rebecca. Phileas, it seemed, had decided to do a little scouting.

Hours later, Jules was past annoyed and quickly moving on to angry. On a good day, Phileas Fogg had a knack for finding trouble; an angry Phileas went in search of it. Jules was considering a scouting trip of his own when the door opened.

Rebecca was halfway to the kitchen before Phileas had shut the front door. "Coffee, anyone?"

"Is there any tea?" Phileas asked as he crossed the room without looking at either of them.

"I believe so." She left without another word.

"Tea?" Jules asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Phileas sat down on the sofa, dusting off his immaculate boots. "I can't see any way around it," he said finally. "The man was not supposed to live."

"So we're back to that again?"

"I never left it, Jules. Suppose that man gets married, has a family. Entire lineages are created that didn't exist. And suppose his wife originally married someone else. People could simply cease to exist."

"I still think you're leaving out a likely possibility," Jules said, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. He took one of Phileas's hands. "We have no more power to change history now than we do in our own time. We can only change the present, no matter where we are."

Phileas sighed. "I wish I could believe that."

"What other alternative do you have? You could shoot Kennedy, I suppose. But you'd better do it now, because Hornblower will most likely be here soon. And when he sees that you've gone into that room and put a bullet into the invalid sleeping away in the bed, you'd better be as far from here as you can get."

One corner of Phileas's mouth turned up. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Wait and see what happens. For all you know, Kennedy won't make it. Even if the effects of the machine are permanent, the League is probably scouring the countryside. We can't be here most of the time, and if too many of them come, Hornblower may not be able to hold them off."

"I thought you were of the opinion that that man could stop an army."

"With a ship, cannons and seven hundred men, certainly. But every man has his limitations. Though if anyone could do that alone, it would be Hornblower. From what I remember in the history books, he was not only the smartest man in the fleet, but the luckiest. In just a few years, he's going to cripple four French ships with one--"

The opening of the front door cut off Jules's comments as Hornblower himself walked in. "Good evening, gentlemen."

"Commander," Jules said, nodding. "I trust everything went well?"

"I believe so. Time will tell. How is Mr Kennedy?"

"He's well," Rebecca said, coming in from the kitchen with a tea service. "I imagine he'd like to see you, but I was hoping you'd tell us about the trails you laid today first."

Engrossed in Hornblower's recounting and further plans, no one noticed as Archie quietly closed the bedroom door.

~~~

Horatio knocked softly before opening the door to the bedroom. "Archie?"

The quiet word roused his dozing friend, who blinked at him a few times. "Horatio. You're back."

He nodded as he crossed the room to sit on the bed. "I'm here to stay for a few days." One corner of his mouth tilted up. "Someone has to keep you under control."

Archie laughed. "I hardly think I'm capable of getting into any trouble in my current condition."

"I'm not so sure about that," Horatio responded with a grin that faded quickly on his next question. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." At Horatio's dubious look, Archie smiled. "I do feel better," he insisted. "I was dead, Horatio, or so I'm told. You can't expect me to be on my feet overnight."

The smile didn't quite reach Horatio's eyes this time as he stood. "I should let you sleep so that you can recover, then."

"Horatio...." Archie paused for a moment. "These people...are you sure you can trust them?"

"They've given me no reason not to as of yet."

"But what do you know about them?"

He sat back down. "I know they've kept their word so far and been honest with me--at least in as much as their jobs allow them to be." Horatio's lips thinned. "And I know they're the reason I found out you were alive, and the reason you're here instead of locked away at your father's."

For a second, it looked as if Archie would say more, but then he shook his head. "I'll take your word for it for now. Are they staying here?"

"No, they're to go back to Kingston tonight, actually. They have another contact there, and some other possibilities to follow as to who could be behind this--besides your father, of course."

"Yes, my father," Archie said bitterly. "I tell you, Horatio, I did not think I could hate him more than I already did when I left to join the navy, but apparently I was wrong."

"Surely you can't hate him that much, Archie. He did bring you back from the dead."

The bitter laugh surprised Horatio. "Yes, well, he had his own interests at heart, believe me. And as for bringing me back, I'm not sure I should thank him for that, either."

"Don't say that! You're alive, Archie. Alive." For the first time, Horatio's tired mind truly grasped the fact, and it threatened to overwhelm him. Archie was alive and here, close enough to touch if Horatio wanted. And his skin would be warm, not cool, as it had been the last time Horatio had touched him in the hospital.

The thought of touching Archie brought up other complications regarding Horatio's feelings. He'd been regretting the fact that he'd never told Archie how he felt, but now, faced with a second chance, he understood why his mind had protected him from the knowledge of his feelings. The concept of confession seemed far less simple if there was a possibility of actually doing it.

"What's wrong, Horatio?"

He was saved from making up an excuse by Rebecca, who knocked on the door, then poked her head inside. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Horatio said, standing quickly.

"We're leaving. Mr Kennedy, I certainly hope to see you again soon, and recovered."

"Thank you, Rebecca. I trust you will be careful?"

"Always," she answered with a smile before returning to Horatio. "Take care, Commander."

He smiled. "Horatio," he reminded her. "I'll see you out," he added, turning to Archie, "if you'll excuse me for a moment?"

"Of course." Horatio could feel Archie watching them as he led Rebecca to the door. He would worry about his abrupt departure later, when he'd figured out what to say.

~~~

"We'll make sure one of us checks in each day to see if there is anything you need," Rebecca said as she and Horatio joined Phileas and Jules by the door.

"And you'll keep me informed of your progress with regards to Archie's father?"

"Of course," she answered immediately, but Horatio noticed the look Phileas gave her at that. He hoped he was right in his opinion that Phileas did not have nearly as much control over his sister as the man would like. "With any luck," Rebecca continued, "this will only take a day or two."

Phileas peered out the front window. "It appears safe enough, but be on guard," he warned before opening the door.

Horatio watched them slip out quietly into the night, silent prayers for their safety running through his mind. When he was certain they'd gone, he turned back towards the bedroom and Archie.

He would not upset Archie by admitting his feelings. Perhaps, if there were a chance Archie felt the same way...but no. That was highly improbable. Horatio would simply have to deal with his emotions on his own, and that was the end of it. Resolutely, he opened the door to the bedroom.

Archie was lying on his back, his eyes half-open, facing the door. "They're gone?" Horatio nodded. "Good. I know you trust them, Horatio, but I'm not so certain."

"You don't trust my judgement?"

"It's not that...." He studied the edge of the blanket, picking at the frayed hem. "This is going to sound as if I'm completely mad, Horatio, but I heard them talking before you returned tonight. They were talking about things that were going to happen in the future as if they'd already taken place."

Horatio shrugged. "I'm sure they were merely making plans for any possible outcome."

"Then why did Jules mention history books and something you were going to do in a few years?"

"When?"

"Right before you returned. I was listening at the door."

"Did you hear any more than that?"

Shaking his head, Archie sighed. "Not about that. They weren't talking very loud. But they did say something else odd."

"What was it?"

"That I wasn't supposed to have lived."

Horatio shrugged. "You were dead. It's likely they were talking about that."

"Perhaps," Archie conceded, but he did not sound convinced.

"You look tired. Why don't we both get some sleep?"

Archie grinned. "I imagine you're a great deal more tired than I am."

"Sleep does look quite attractive, yes."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

He nodded towards the sitting room. "In there. The sofa is small, but it will do. It's certainly no worse than a hammock."

"I feel guilty, taking the only bed."

"You have far more to recover from than a missed night's sleep."

"I feel much better." The huge yawn following that statement belied the words, and they both smiled. "I am tired, but at least I can walk. I can even feed myself."

Memories of Spain came back to Horatio again. He'd nursed Archie back to health then, too, even fed him when he was too weak to hold a spoon. "I believe you have more lives than a cat," Horatio joked.

"And I thought racing a burning fuse across a bridge was a close call."

"Yes, well, let's not test this theory of your extra lives with any more close calls for a while. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Horatio rose. "Good. I'll say goodnight, then, and we can both get some rest."

"Goodnight, Horatio," Archie said with a small smile. As Horatio began to pull the bedroom door shut, however, Archie called out to him.

Horatio paused, his hand on the door handle. "Yes?"

"Could you...could you leave the door open, please?"

"Certainly," he answered, blinking, but not questioning.

Archie must have anticipated the unasked question, however. "It was lonely, locked up in that room. It will be nice to hear someone breathing next door."

"I'll try to breathe loudly," Horatio answered around the sudden thickness in his throat.

"Don't worry. I know for a fact that you snore."

With a false look of exasperation, Horatio bid Archie goodnight once more and retired to the sofa.

~~~

The ear-splitting scream that woke Horatio in the middle of the night had him at Archie's side, pistol in hand, in mere seconds. To his surprise, however, Archie was alone, though still screaming intermittently.

Horatio quickly laid his pistol on the nightstand and sat on the bed. "Archie!" he yelled over another scream. "Archie!" He shook his friend hard, one hand on each shoulder, trying to wake him.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and Archie was blinking up at him. "Horatio?" he managed between gasping breaths.

"I'm here."

"Oh, thank God. I thought--that is, I was dreaming...I was back at my father's."

"It was that horrible there?"

His breathing was beginning to calm a little, but his voice was a bit raspy as he answered, "The place itself was miserable and oppressive, not to mention lonely. I'd rather be in a Spanish prison than back there. But...." Archie turned his head away, moonlight glinting off his jaw line as Horatio watched him closely.

"But?" Horatio prompted at last.

"It's that machine, Horatio. Nothing, not getting shot, not the agony that followed, not even death hurt as much as that damned machine." His fists opened and closed against Horatio's arms as he spoke. "When I first...woke up...well, one moment I was saying goodbye to you, and the next I felt my whole body on fire. I was certain I'd landed myself in the middle of Hell. And it wasn't long until I wished that were the case."

Horatio wasn't sure what to say. He was torn--he knew more than he'd have liked at times about the kinds of torture Archie had endured in the past. For this to be worse than any of that...he didn't want to think about it. And yet he couldn't be sorry Archie had gone through it, because he was alive.

"Horatio?"

He realised Archie was looking at him again, expecting a reaction, no doubt. "I'm sorry, Archie, I wish I could have done something to save you that pain. If I had paid a bit more attention to the oddities of the events following your...death, I might have spared you that." He shook his head. "Then again, if I'd thought it would really bring you back, perhaps not."

"You would not wish this kind of torture on your worst enemy, Horatio. I would not even have wished it on Simpson. Well...all right, perhaps him."

"Was it just the one time?"

Archie laughed bitterly. "Oh, no. If that had been the case, I might have borne it a little easier. No, three times they put me in that thing; that first time, and then again the next day, and the day after that. When someone came into the room the following day, I almost hid. I did not want to go through it again. Fortunately, they only brought food and left again that time."

"And you had no more treatments after that?"

"None."

"What did your father have to say about all this?"

That produced another bitter laugh. "He came to visit me once a day and tell me about my glorious future in the service of my country. When I reminded him I'd already lost enough in service to my country, he told me I'd buggered that up myself and I could just suffer the consequences. 'At least I'm giving you a chance to make up for it,' he said." The sneer in Archie's recitation of the words left little doubt as to Archie's opinion of the sentiment.

"Did he ever tell you what this service entailed?"

Archie shook his head. "He mentioned a league a few times, but I wasn't allowed to know what it was, apparently. None of the others would even talk to me beyond barking orders."

"I am truly sorry, Archie."

"It's not your fault."

"Perhaps not. Still...." There was little more he could say. "Do you think you can sleep again now?

"Maybe in a while. Is there any water left?"

Horatio checked the pitcher, but it was empty. "I'll get some from the kitchen."

"I'll come with you." As Horatio was about to protest, Archie gave him an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to break, Horatio. Besides, with any luck, the exercise will tire me."

"All right. But if you feel weak, you are to mention it immediately. You've played the hero enough.

"Yes, Commander," he responded with more than a hint of irritation.

Ignoring Archie's tone, Horatio stood by as Archie pushed himself out of bed, still clad in the breeches and shirt Horatio had left on him when they'd first arrived. He let Archie lead the way, following close beside in case Archie should falter.

They made it to the kitchen without incident. Archie took a seat at the table while Horatio filled the pitcher and returned to the table. "Ready to go back?"

"Could we stay here a little longer? It's nice not being in a bedroom."

"Very well," Horatio answered, taking the seat next to him. "Are you hungry?"

"A little, actually."

Horatio got up and found some bread in one of the cupboards. He brought it back to the table and sat down again. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Archie said, "So, tell me about your command."

"I've been given the Retribution." Fitting name for what he'd planned to do to the Spanish in return for Archie's death, now that he thought about it. "Formerly known as the Spanish ship Gaditana."

"The one you brought in from Samaná Bay?"

Horatio nodded. "Pellew himself brought the orders to me in the prison hospital not long after you--it seems so strange to say it."

"Well, it's not every day you talk to a walking, breathing dead man," Archie said with a grin. "So, you received the orders that quickly? They must have written your name on them before we'd even left the courtroom." The words held a great deal of satisfaction and none of the resentment that might have been expected of someone in Archie's position.

"They certainly wasted no time," Horatio agreed. "The ship will not be ready for at least a few more days."

"And when she is ready?"

The words held an edge Horatio was unable to understand. "I shall go back to sea," he said quietly, wishing for the first time he could stay on dry land a bit longer. But it would only prolong the pain of leaving. Now if Archie could go back to sea with him...but that was not worth thinking about. It would only make it harder to go if he thought about what might have been.

"Did Bush get a command as well?"

There was that tone again, that slight edge that Horatio knew had some meaning he wasn't understanding. "I don't know, but I don't think so. I suspect Pellew would have said so." Horatio had considered requesting Bush as his first lieutenant, but he thought it best not to mention that now.

The answer seemed to satisfy Archie. He relaxed against the back of his chair, and tried unsuccessfully to hide a yawn. At that, Horatio stood. "Time to go back to bed again, I think."

"Not just yet."

"Archie, you need rest. We can't risk bringing a doctor out here, and you're far from the picture of health."

"I'll be the judge of what I can and cannot handle, thank you."

"Yes, because you've done a fine job of that so far." Horatio wished immediately he could take the words back, but it was too late. "Archie, I--"

"What do you mean by that?"

*Damn.* "I didn't mean it, Archie. I don't know what made me say that."

"Clearly you meant it, or you wouldn't have thought it."

He'd forgotten just how Archie's scowl could make him feel so terrible. And he could think of no way out of his statement, save the truth. "You died," he said finally. "You got shot, and I sat there and watched you die."

"It's a war, Horatio. I know you knew the dangers as well as I. Did it not occur to you we were at risk?"

"Of course! But...I suppose I never actually thought that we...I don't know."

"I did. The way you throw yourself in front of every bullet, sword and punch you see, I often thought I'd be sitting around mourning your death one day."

Horatio blinked. Archie had never mentioned that. "And instead, I sat there and watched you breathe your last breath."

"Not so much my last, as it turns out, but I understand what you mean. And better that than for me to lie there and die a slow death while your rotting corpse cast a swaying shadow over my bed from the gallows outside the hospital."

"It wouldn't have come to that."

"Oh, Horatio, please. Don't lie to me. Not now." Archie studied him intently. "Tell me you weren't going to go in there and throw yourself upon their sword like a good little scapegoat."

"I wasn't--"

"Tell me *truthfully*."

Horatio closed his eyes. "All right," he said, finally, looking at Archie again. "Yes, if it had come down to it, I would have admitted to pushing Sawyer."

"I knew it." Archie stood up quickly. "I think I will go to bed after all."

"Here, let me help you."

Archie shook off the hand Horatio laid on his arm. "I can manage."

At the icy tone, Horatio stopped attempting to help, but he remained close nonetheless, and was there when Archie's knees buckled suddenly, halfway through the sitting room. He grabbed Archie's arms and kept him from falling, but Archie shook him off again. "I said I could manage."

"There is no harm in accepting a little help, Archie."

"Dammit Horatio, all I get is help and advice. I am capable of making up my own mind."

"No one said you weren't."

Archie gave up on walking for the moment and sunk onto the sofa. "Perhaps not, but no one acts as if I am."

"You were a lieutenant in the navy, Archie, destined for a command--"

"Or destined to be another Buckland, twenty-two years at sea and no hope of command."

"Do *not* compare yourself to Buckland. You have more ability to be a leader in one strand of your hair than he has in his entire body."

Archie's face softened. "Thank you for that."

"It's nothing more than the truth."

"Perhaps, but it is nice to hear it confirmed so readily."

Horatio sat down next to him. "You are, without question, one of the finest men I've ever known, Archie Kennedy. I meant it when I said it was an honour to serve with you."

Archie laughed softly. "I'm afraid I did not have time to properly appreciate that comment then."

"Well, you were a little busy."

"Not to mention in pain."

Horatio laughed a little, then shook his head, sobering. "I don't know how we can be laughing at this. You *died*."

"But I'm alive now. And it's either laugh or be horrified at what happened. I've had enough of being horrified at it."

"True." Horatio rose. "Should we try this again?"

"Yes." Archie pushed himself up a little, then immediately sat again. "I'm afraid now is one of those times I'm going to have to accept help."

Horatio bent and scooped him up with little difficulty. "You've certainly lost weight," he said, carrying Archie into the bedroom carefully.

"The dead don't eat much."

He laughed, but he tightened his hold at the same time. To have Archie in his arms was torture of the sweetest kind. He wanted things he could only half imagine from his best friend, and the closeness of his body, the heat from it, the breath on his shoulder and neck, were going to drive him insane if he did not reach the bed soon.

He was studying Archie's face, his gaze fixed on the parted lips, when Archie looked up. Their eyes locked, and Horatio felt fire spark through his body. Archie's tongue flicked out across his lips, and that was Horatio's undoing. He dimly noted Archie's hand as it moved from Horatio's back to tangle in his hair as their lips met.

He scarcely had time to realise what they were doing before his knee caught the edge of the mattress and they tumbled onto the bed. As he lay sprawled across Archie, he was instantly aware of two things--that his erection was beginning to push embarrassingly against Archie's leg, and that Archie didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. He was looking up at Horatio with intense eyes and pulling Horatio's head down until their lips met again.

The kiss had to end eventually. Horatio smiled down at Archie, who was grinning unabashedly. "Your timing is a bit less perfect than usual, Mr Hornblower," he teased, the last word ending in a yawn. "I'm afraid I can barely lift my eyelashes, much less anything else."

"Archie...." Horatio could feel his cheeks flaming.

"It's all right, Horatio. But if you don't mind, can we talk about it some other time?" He yawned again.

"Of course."

Horatio shifted his weight off Archie, rolling onto his side, and made to move away, but Archie grabbed his arm. "Horatio...would you mind staying for a while? Please?"

Even if Horatio had not wanted to stay, the slight pleading tone in that last word would have kept him there. As it was, he was almost obscenely pleased to have an excuse to remain in the small bed with Archie's head on his shoulder, secure in the knowledge that if he could feel Archie in his arms, feel the rise and fall of his chest, and feel Archie breathing against his neck, then he would still be there, alive and well, in the morning. It was all he could ask for.

"Archie?" Horatio whispered.

"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

He felt Archie smile against his shoulder. "I have it already."

"No, something else," Horatio said, fighting back a grin at the initial response.

There was a moment's pause. "I'd like to make everything as if the whole blasted mutiny had never happened. To have things back to normal, as they were before Sawyer went mad." He rubbed against Horatio. "With a noticeable difference or two, perhaps. But that would take a miracle."

"So would returning from the dead."

"Two miracles are more than even people as charmed as we seem to be can hope for. Now go to sleep, Horatio."

"Yes, sir." But he lay there long after Archie had fallen asleep, listening to the deep, even breaths until finally he allowed them to lull him to sleep.

~~~

The quiet but persistent knocking gradually roused Phileas. He rolled out from under Jules's arm and grabbed his dressing gown, thrusting his arms into it and securing the tie as he made his way to the door.

Expecting it to be either Rebecca or someone from the inn, he was surprised to find his father on the other side of the door. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"May I come in?"

Phileas scanned the deserted hallway. It appeared safe enough, but one never knew. Best to be cautious. "Jules is still asleep." And naked, he realised. "Give me a minute."

At Boniface's nod, Phileas stepped back into the room and shut the door. He went to the bed and shook Jules's shoulder gently. Jules made a few unintelligible sounds before he opened his eyes, blinking up at Phileas. "What?"

"Get up. My--Boniface is at the door."

"What is he doing here?"

"I don't know. Get dressed and we'll find out."

It took only a minute for both of them to throw on enough clothes to be decently dressed--at least enough to receive their visitor. Boniface raised an eyebrow at the one bed in the room, the covers a mess, but if he questioned their relationship, he said nothing to that effect.

Instead, he got straight to his point. "I have uncovered a conspiracy in which your Mr Hornblower may or may not be involved."

"Oh, but there's no way he could possibly--" Jules blurted out before a look from Phileas stopped him. "He is completely trustworthy."

"No one is completely trustworthy," Boniface replied immediately.

"So I've been told," Jules muttered, glancing at Phileas.

Ignoring the comment, Phileas turned to his father. "What have you learned?"

"My information suggested that Lieutenant Buckland of the Renown might not be as innocent as the court martial ruled him to be. So I followed him. After a rather dreary day of doing nothing, he went out at night, to a place I suspect he would never patronise of his own free will. And he went out of uniform."

Phileas shot a quick look at Jules. From what little they'd heard, Buckland was a twit. "Where did he go?"

"A tavern where the regular customers are definitely several stations below any Buckland would lower himself to associate with. But even more surprising was the gentleman he met with there. Captain Charles Hammond."

"One of the men who decided his court martial?" Jules exclaimed.

Boniface nodded. "The very same. Buckland was clearly upset, and Hammond was doing his best to pacify him, but he was having none of it. They were speaking too quietly for me to hear anything except that Buckland was promised something."

"Promised what?" Phileas asked.

With a shrug, Boniface answered, "I don't know. Hammond quieted him. After Buckland left--still quite angry, mind you--I followed Hammond. He left Kingston straight away and went right to the country farm of an English noble named--"

"Lord Kennedy!" Phileas interrupted.

That brought Boniface up short. "How did you know?"

"We've been doing a bit of investigating of our own where Lord Kennedy is concerned."

"What have you learned? I could get no closer than the brush around the perimeter of his estate. Hammond was there for the better part of an hour before he rode back to town."

Phileas looked down at his hands, then at Jules, who was sitting beside him on the bed. "We managed to get a look inside a building on Kennedy's farm. He has a large machine in there, unlike anything else I've ever seen."

"Well, what is it? What does it do?"

"We can't tell. But it is nothing that can come to any good, I know that."

"Damn." Boniface rubbed his forehead. "Do you think Hornblower knows?"

Phileas shook his head. "I'm sure Hornblower knows no more than we do."

"Well, perhaps you could ask him what he knows about Buckland?"

"We'd be happy to do that." Phileas rose from the bed. "You look as if you could use some sleep."

Boniface gave a quiet laugh as he stood. "I spent the night following Buckland and Hammond. I could use a little sleep."

"Perhaps you should go get some rest, then," Phileas suggested, ushering Boniface to the door. "We'll meet up later and discuss what we've found."

"I had hoped to speak to Hornblower with you."

"I don't know if that is wise," Phileas responded. "He trusts us. And his trust is not easily won."

His hand upon the door, Boniface nodded. "Best that you talk with him alone, then," he agreed as he opened the door. "Until tonight."

Phileas listened at the door for several minutes after Boniface had closed it behind him. Finally, he turned to Jules. "I think he's gone."

"You don't believe he trusts us?"

"Oh, he trusts us," Phileas said as he sat back down on the bed. "In as much as one spy trusts another spy he doesn't know."

"So he'll continue to test us?"

As he began to put on his boots, Phileas nodded. "Finish getting dressed. We have to go."

"We're going to see Hornblower?"

"Oh, no. We're going to see Rebecca."

Jules thought for a moment. "So she can go see Hornblower while we stay in town in case Boniface follows us around?"

"You're learning."

"I should be, after all this time," Jules said with a grin. His boots now on, he followed Phileas out the door.

~~~

Archie pulled the pillow over his head to shut out the sunlight. If he could go back to sleep, he could slip back into the wonderful dream he'd been having. The dream where Horatio had kissed him. Where Horatio had held him as he fell asleep, safe and protected for the first time since...well, the first time he could remember. He could still feel Horatio's arms around him, and he didn't want to lose that feeling. Except that he was waking up, whether he wanted to or not.

And he could still feel Horatio's arms around him.

Not to mention Horatio's leg covering his. And a rather obvious hardness pushing against his thigh. Archie pulled the pillow off his head and looked over his shoulder to see Horatio sleeping beside him.

It wasn't a dream.

The thought filled him with elation that quickly turned to worry. How would Horatio feel when he awoke? It was one thing to say and do things in the middle of the night; it was quite another to face them in the morning.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. Horatio stirred against him, eyes slowly opening. Archie waited, holding his breath, daring to hope only when a huge grin spread across Horatio's face.

Anxious not to let the moment go, Archie twisted around in Horatio's embrace, capturing his lips before he could speak. Horatio moved against him, their bodies touching in various places from top to toe. Archie barely managed to stifle a groan as he felt his body respond as Horatio's erection ground against his own growing one.

They both remained silent, save for a few gasps and moans, the quiet solitude preserving the illusion that they were in their own world. The silence prevailed after they were both spent until they had managed to catch their breath, and then Horatio cleared his throat.

"Archie...."

His body suddenly tense, Archie kept his voice as neutral as possible. "Yes?"

"That was...amazing."

Archie relaxed again, snuggling into Horatio's shoulder. "It certainly was."

"I knew--I mean, it's not that I haven't--well, of course, I have, but not with--and it's never been that--"

"Amazing?" Archie finished with a grin. He understood, even with such butchered words. He thought he knew the reason, too, but he would not mention that. Not yet. Horatio needed to come to that realisation on his own, when he was ready. Archie promised himself he would not push. It would be worth the wait.

For the first time, he dared to hope he might have everything he'd ever wanted. Or at least the parts of it that mattered most.

And *that* was worth waiting for.

~~~

Horatio watched as Archie slept. In all his life, he never would have imagined the bliss he'd just experienced. He felt warm, carefree, at peace...happy. Everything would be perfect, if it weren't for Lord Kennedy, the League, Archie's mutiny confession, and, oh yes, the fact that Archie Kennedy was, at least according to the navy, dead.

Then Archie opened his eyes, and Horatio forgot about the problems. The smile on Archie's face made him feel as though anything were possible.

"You're mad," Archie said, but he was still grinning.

"Quite possibly," Horatio agreed, fingers running down Archie's chest. "But if I am, I fear it is an affliction we both share."

"Horatio, you--ah...." He stopped as Horatio's fingertips brushed one of his nipples.

With a grin, Horatio ran his finger over the hardened nub again. "You were saying?"

Archie's response was to pull on Horatio's neck until their lips were fused together. His hand dipping lower to tease the sensitive skin around Archie's navel, Horatio ran his tongue down the side of Archie's cheek and neck. "You taste good," he said at last, sounding almost surprised.

"As do you," Archie replied, nipping at Horatio's earlobe.

Horatio only had time to wonder if every bit of his new lover tasted as good before he heard a noise in the sitting room.

"It's a bit early for them to check on us, isn't it?" Archie said as quietly as possible.

Horatio nodded. He lifted one finger to his lips in a silencing gesture as he crept silently out of bed and pulled on his trousers and shirt.

He picked up his pistol and crossed the room, cracking the door open just enough to see through. Rebecca was putting down a basket by the kitchen. Horatio gave Archie the all-clear sign and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him as he left the room. "Rebecca. I wasn't expecting to see you so again so soon."

"I wasn't expecting to be here again so soon." She took in Horatio's dishevelled appearance, his untucked shirt and the breeches he was suddenly certain were lopsided and her lips twitched. "Mr Kennedy is well, I take it?"

"He is recovering nicely, thank you, though he had a nightmare last night. I ended up sleeping in the chair the rest of the night."

"Oh, of course," she said, her lips twitching again. "What a good friend you are. That chair must have left you quite...stiff."

He could feel his face growing red. "Was there a reason you came back so soon?"

"Oh, yes." Rebecca sat down in the chair. "I need to ask you a few questions. What can you tell me about Lieutenant Buckland?"

"You mean besides the fact that he's an idiot?" Archie's voice from the bedroom doorway surprised them both.

Rebecca smiled. "Ah, Archie. You're looking well."

"Thank you," he replied, slowly crossing the room to sit on the sofa. Horatio sat down next to him. "I feel remarkably well this morning."

"Horatio said you had nightmares?"

"Lingering memories. It was nothing."

From the screams he'd heard, Horatio would hardly call it 'nothing,' but he let that pass, turning back to Rebecca. "May I ask why you are inquiring about Lieutenant Buckland?"

"There is a possibility that he has dealings with the League of Darkness."

"Buckland?" Horatio scoffed. "He may be incompet--er, incompatible with certain aspects of command," he said, ignoring Archie's snicker, "but a traitor?"

Rebecca frowned. "So you don't think it's possible?"

"You'll have to forgive Horatio, ma'am. He refuses to see anything but the best in all of us." The words held a mixture of teasing and fondness.

Horatio saw Rebecca's lips twitch yet again before he responded. "You believe otherwise?"

"Well, I've seen nothing with my own eyes to damn the man. But, that said, he is a fool. And a weak-minded one at that." Archie turned to Horatio. "Don't look at me like that--you know it as well as I. Our lives are at stake, and I'll not lie to save any more madmen their reputations."

Horatio opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. "Yes," he agreed, "Buckland is easily led, and easily scared, especially where his career is concerned."

"Not to mention his neck."

"We are all concerned when it comes to that."

"Some of us more so than others."

Rebecca coughed discretely before Horatio could answer. "If we could get back to Buckland's possible connection to the League?"

"Of course," Horatio replied. "Why do you believe he is involved?"

"One of our acquaintances followed him to a meeting with someone last night. After that meeting, Buckland's contact rode straight out to meet with Lord Kennedy. Certain aspects of the meeting with Buckland seem to suggest that he has, in some way, worked with the League."

"Who was his contact?" Horatio asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

Archie leaned forward. "You mean you don't trust us?"

"I mean I'm not at liberty to say. We don't yet know the extent of this man's involvement. Given the circumstances, it would be unwise to disclose his name, lest anything go wrong."

"Then how are we to know whom to trust?" Archie growled.

"I would recommend trusting no one other than myself, Phileas and Jules."

At that, Archie leaned back, scowling. "Quite convenient for you, isn't it?"

"Archie--" Horatio began, but Archie interrupted.

"You have us locked away out here, you tell us not to trust anyone but you--how do we know you're not really working with this League?" He leaned forward again, eyeing Rebecca intently. "Tell me, Rebecca, how did you manage to break into my father's without being caught?"

Arms crossed, Rebecca relaxed deliberately back into the chair. "You have no guarantees you can trust me, nor can I offer any other than my word. I have it on good authority that you both have excellent instincts, so I leave it to you to decide if we are worthy of your trust."

Horatio cleared his throat. "Rebecca, I'm sure Archie wasn't--"

"I can damn well speak for myself."

Before either of them could go any further, Rebecca held up her hand. "It's quite all right. I wouldn't trust me either in your position. And the things we could tell you or show you to prove otherwise are things you are much better off not knowing."

"You make no sense," Archie said, shaking his head.

"So I'm often told," she replied with a smile.

The room was silent for a moment before Archie spoke again. "I suppose it's in our best interests to trust you."

"Thank you, I think. Now, is there any more you can tell me about Buckland and the mutiny?"

"This has something to do with the mutiny?" Horatio asked, shifting so that his leg touched Archie's. At the mention of that affair, Archie had tensed immediately.

"There is that possibility, yes. Hopefully we'll know more by the end of the night. Any information you can give us could prove useful."

Horatio shrugged. "As we said, he is easily led."

"And easily scared," Archie interjected.

Horatio acknowledged that with a nod. "He'll stand on deck with cannonballs raining down, but threaten him in other ways and he will most likely bend to your will with little difficulty."

"Are you suggesting that if we were to question him, we might get answers?"

Horatio nodded again. "I believe it would be quite easy."

"Well, that settles it, then." Rebecca rose. "I must take this information back to my brother," she said, turning towards the door. "Oh, I've brought some food. It's by the kitchen." She indicated the basked she'd left there. "One of us will be back tomorrow, if not sooner."

"Rebecca?" Archie called out.

She turned as she reached the door. "Yes?"

"Just one question."

"What is it?"

"When were you born?"

She blinked, then laughed. "It is quite impolite to ask a woman her age, Mr Kennedy."

"But if the woman trusts us, she has no reason not to answer."

"Very well. I am thirty-five."

"And what year were you born?"

She put her hand on the door handle. "1767. And now I really must go. Take care, gentlemen," she said as she opened the door and walked out.

Horatio turned to Archie. "What was that all about?"

"Just testing a theory."

"Care to explain it to me?"

"When I've figured it out, I will." Archie stood, grabbing Horatio's hand and pulling him out of his seat and towards the bedroom. "In the meantime, I believe, Mr Hornblower, that we were in the middle of something before we were so unfortunately interrupted."

"We were?" Horatio replied with a grin.

Archie backed through the bedroom door, guiding Horatio to the bed. "We most certainly were," he said, falling onto the bed and pulling Horatio down beside him.

"Ah, yes, I remember now. I believe we were right about here, weren't we?" Horatio wrapped a leg around Archie's hip, pulling him close.

"About there, yes," Archie said happily.

"Well, Mr Kennedy, what would I do without you to remind me of these things?"

Archie stopped nibbling on Horatio's neck to give him a fierce hug. "I hope you never have to find out again."

~~~

"We need to question Buckland."

"And hello to you, too, Rebecca," Phileas said, looking up from his meal.

Rebecca took a seat between Phileas and Jules at the table and looked around the mostly deserted dining room before continuing in the same low voice. "Hornblower and Kennedy both agree that Buckland will be easily convinced to talk. The key is to threaten his career, more or less."

"And then make him think he can salvage it by talking?"

"That is the idea."

Phileas checked his watch. "Let's go find him then, and see if we can speed this along."

~~~

As it turned out, Buckland was quite easy to find. The Renown had taken heavy damage, and he was overseeing the repairs while she waited for her new captain to arrive from England.

Rebecca watched from a distance as Phileas and Jules 'persuaded' Buckland to come with them for a discussion. She followed a short pace behind, looking for any sign that others were trailing them.

She quickly noticed not one, but two parties interested in the procession. She dispatched of the League minion quickly. The other man she left alone. He might be of some assistance with Buckland, and he would not be a liability.

Besides, she had been itching to meet Boniface Fogg as a young man. Now was her chance.

~~~

Phileas unclenched his fists with an effort. "You must tell us about your dealings with the League of Darkness," he growled for the third time, leaning over Buckland menacingly.

"I do not know what you are talking about, sir."

Phileas glanced at Jules. "Are you sure I can't cut his fingers off?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. Hangings are always so much nicer when the body is intact."

"Hangings?" Buckland said. "Why would you hang me?"

Phileas leaned in closer. "Because that's what they do to people who betray their country, Mr Buckland."

As Rebecca entered, Phileas straightened. She crossed the room and whispered something to him, then looked down at Buckland. "Why don't you let me try?" she suggested to Phileas.

"Very well. Jules?"

Jules pushed himself off the edge of the table he'd been leaning on. "Nice to meet you, Mr Buckland," he said with a smile as he followed Phileas out of the room.

Buckland eyed Rebecca nervously as she pulled a chair close to him, so close their knees were nearly touching when she sat. "Now, why don't you tell me about your dealings with Captain Hammond?"

The second she mentioned the name, Buckland's eyes widened, and she smiled. It was only a matter of time, now.

~~~

Phileas and Jules slipped out the back of the building they'd chosen for this 'meeting' with Buckland. They went quietly around the corner, so quietly that Boniface never turned to look behind him until Phileas tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing?" Phileas asked in a patient tone normally reserved for children and idiots.

To his credit, Boniface hid his displeasure at being surprised rather well. Only a hint of a frown hovered at the corner of his lips as he responded, "Watching out for the interests of my country. What do you think you're doing?"

"The same."

"Buckland was part of my investigation. You had no right to question him."

Phileas raised an eyebrow. "Hornblower suggested Buckland could give us information that would be useful to *our* investigation. Surely you're not against that?"

"And he's told you so much."

"Don't worry. By the time we get back inside, he'll have confessed everything."

Boniface scoffed. "You hammered him for half an hour. You think that woman will get better results?"

"You've never met Rebecca," Jules said with a grin.

"Let's go inside and see, shall we?"

The three gentlemen entered the room to find Rebecca smiling down at Buckland. The lieutenant's head was down, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. "Thank you, Mr Buckland. I'm sure this will prove quite helpful to us in our investigation. I must, of course, ask that you make no mention of our conversation to anyone."

"Oh, of course, of course," Buckland simpered. "So may I go now?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you." Buckland stood quickly and scurried out of the room.

Boniface watched him leave before turning back to Phileas and Jules, who had moved to Rebecca's side. "You're just going to let him leave?"

"Of course."

"But he'll go right back to Hammond."

"I certainly hope so." She picked up her reticule and turned to follow Phileas and Jules to the door. "Coming?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Boniface.

He blinked. "Where?"

"To follow Buckland."

"Oh." He nodded, still blinking. "Right behind you."

~~~

Horatio opened his eyes slowly, unwilling to wake, until he realised his warm blanket was, in fact, Archie. A warm, naked Archie. He shifted, causing Archie to wake with a sleepy smile that matched his own.

"Good morning," Archie said, stretching like a cat.

"Afternoon," Horatio corrected, one hand finding Archie's thigh, the other his back. He pulled Archie as close as he could as they kissed.

Before they could go further, however, Archie pulled back. "Horatio, we need to talk."

"Mmm?" Horatio responded, leaning up to kiss Archie's neck, but Archie pulled further away, settling down beside Horatio. The sudden coolness on his front chilled him. "What's wrong, Archie?"

Archie's hand idly traced patterns on Horatio's chest for a moment before he answered. "It's Rebecca. And the others. I really think they have knowledge of the future."

"And I think being dead has addled your brain."

"I'm serious, Horatio." Archie leaned up on one elbow. "The more I think about the conversation I heard, the more I am convinced that they have knowledge of the future."

Horatio frowned up at him. "Archie, if they knew the future, why would they be checking on us? Why wouldn't they simply put us someplace they knew would be safe and come back for us later?"

"I don't know. I can't put my finger on it, but something about that conversation...."

"Is this about their comment regarding your death?" Horatio asked after a moment.

Archie shook his head. "No." With a sigh, he lay back on the pillow beside Horatio and stared up at the ceiling. "Yes. Perhaps, but only because of the way they said it." He turned his head until their eyes met. "Do you believe it's possible to travel through time?"

"I suppose anything could be possible. However, I think your own fears are getting the better of you in this case."

Archie sighed again. "Possibly," he answered, but he did not sound convinced.

"I'm starving," Horatio announced, effectively changing the subject. "Shall we see what we can find in the kitchen?"

"There's still the food Rebecca left in the basket."

"Well, then, let's see what she brought."

They dressed and went into the sitting room, Horatio close by Archie's side, just in case, but to his surprise, Archie needed no help. The basket yielded bread, cheese and some fruit--enough to last them for a day or so, combined with the meat in the kitchen. Horatio wondered briefly how long this might take to sort out. In just a few days, he was expected back in Kingston to finish overseeing the repairs to his ship.

"Horatio?"

"Sorry, Archie. I was thinking."

"About what?"

Horatio grinned. "Finish your food and I'll show you."

Any reply was cut off as the door flew open and six League of Darkness men stormed in, guns raised. Horatio reached for his pistol on the table, but a gun at his temple forced him to leave it where it lay.

"You will come with us," the man holding the gun to Horatio's head said in a dull voice.

With a nod at Archie, Horatio stood slowly and followed the men out, hoping someone came to check on them very, very soon.

~~~


"We need to hear them," Rebecca whispered. The four spies were watching from a distance as Buckland sat down next to Hammond. They'd followed the lieutenant to a park with a fair amount of people, and the sound and commotion would make it even more difficult to hear. Someone would have to get quite close.

"I'll go," Jules offered. "I'm the least conspicuous of us all."

"But he's seen you," Boniface reminded him. "In fact, he's seen all of you. But he hasn't seen me."

At Rebecca's nod, Boniface carefully made his way to a spot where he could hear the conversation. There was a heated exchange between Buckland and Hammond that ended with Hammond storming off. Buckland sat on the bench and sulked as Boniface hurried back to the others.

"Well?" Phileas demanded. "What did they say?"

"It seems Buckland knows very little. Hammond is our man. We should follow him."

Rebecca agreed, and the four set out to follow Hammond. Trailing him on horseback the first mile was difficult without getting caught. Suddenly, Rebecca reined in her horse, causing the others to do the same. "He's going to the Kennedy farm," she said.

"I believe you're right," Phileas agreed.

"Makes sense," Boniface added. "That's where he went before."

Rebecca stared after Hammond's trail. "Right. We follow, and this time, when we get there, we find a way inside to listen."

No one argued with the plan as they spurred their horses onward. Hammond was just reaching the front door as they arrived. Rebecca watched as he entered the house. "I'll go see if I can hear--"

"Rebecca," Jules interrupted. "Look."

He pointed towards the building holding the vitalisphere, where armed men were leading Archie and Horatio through the front door. "Damn. Damn damn damn."

"Who was that?" Boniface asked.

"Hornblower. And..." Rebecca paused, looking at Phileas, then sighed. "Lieutenant Kennedy."

Boniface shook his head. "Lieutenant Kennedy is dead."

"*Was* dead," Rebecca answered. "That building houses a machine that brings the dead back to life."

He stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "That's impossible."

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Rebecca replied, "at least until we can destroy that monstrosity."

"Destroy it? But if this is true, think of all the good it could do."

Phileas laughed softly. "Believe me, we've seen what that thing can do. It must be destroyed."

"But--"

"Our mission is to destroy that machine," Phileas growled, leaning very close to Boniface's face. "Either you are with us on that, or you can leave now."

Boniface opened his mouth, but closed it again quickly. "Very well," he said finally.

"Good." Phileas turned to Rebecca. "Shall Jules and I go rescue Hornblower?"

"No. I think perhaps Jules and I should do that. You and Boniface find a way to hear that conversation between Lord Kennedy and Hammond."

Phileas's lips thinned, but after a moment, he nodded. He and Boniface headed through the brush toward the back of the house.

"Do you think it was wise to send those two off alone?" Jules asked.

"It was better than sending them after Hornblower and Kennedy," Rebecca answered as they made their way toward the secret entrance to the outer building. "You heard him--'rescue Hornblower.' Not both of them. And Boniface...I doubt that Archie would have come out of this alive if those two went in. And Boniface knows nothing about where--or rather when--we came from."

Jules frowned. "What difference does that make?"

"I think Kennedy suspects. It's just a guess at this point, but if I'm right, I don't need Boniface around if Kennedy starts asking questions."

"So it's just the two of us," Jules said.

"We're the best chance they have."

They reached the secret entrance quickly, but it took Rebecca a few minutes to figure out the entry mechanism. Then they were on their way through the tunnel and into the machine room.

~~~

Phileas counted himself lucky that they'd only had to deal with two guards to get to a window outside Lord Kennedy's study. He doubted they'd even missed much of his conversation with Hammond at this point.

Kennedy was laughing as they reached the window. "You worry too much, Charlie."

"But these people now know everything Buckland knew!"

"And what did Buckland know? That we upstanding British subjects aided a mutiny, knowing that the captain was insane when he took command? That we warned him ahead of time that Sawyer was not in his right mind and that Hornblower would certainly notice? So we suggested he help things along if that were the case--what harm did that do?"

"But Lord Kennedy, that evidence put together with your son's recovery and--"

Kennedy held up a hand. "Do not trouble yourself worrying about my son as evidence. I will take care of him."

"You've recovered him, then?"

"He and his 'friend,' Hornblower, are locked away out back as we speak. Of course, Hornblower will have to die--there's no way he would ever agree to work with us. But Archie...Archie can be made to see reason once that man is dead."

Hammond breathed a deep sigh. "You appear to have everything under control...except those spies."

"Don't worry, I'll deal with them. Perhaps once Archie undergoes his final treatment, I'll send him out to kill them. A little test for our newest soldier."

"And if he fails?"

"Then I shall have them taken care of, and he will be made to understand the way of things, or he will occupy that vase with his real ashes."

Hammond took two unconscious steps towards the door. "You would kill him after having gone to so much trouble to save him?"

"If necessary. But I think Archie will fall in line after Hornblower is gone. He always was rather weak-minded."

If Hammond thought otherwise after having seen Archie Kennedy at the court martial, he apparently thought it better to keep that to himself. He simply made a short bow in Kennedy's direction. "As everything is under control, then, I shall return to my duties in Kingston."

"Yes, perhaps you should." Lord Kennedy opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pistol. "I'll see you out before I go deal with Archie and his friend."

Phileas turned to his father as Kennedy and Hammond disappeared out the door. "We must warn Rebecca and Jules."

"Agreed. Let's go."

~~~

The vitalisphere hummed loudly as Rebecca and Jules entered the room, but there was no one in sight as they hurried through the room to the door on the opposite side. Rebecca opened the door far enough that she could see one person's leg hanging from the side of the bed. The boot was instantly recognisable as Archie Kennedy's.

She could hear no other voices, and the low murmur of the conversation between Archie and Horatio led her to believe they were alone. Guns drawn, just in case, Rebecca and Jules burst through the door to find Archie and Horatio alone on the bed, hands tied behind their backs, staring at them in surprise.

"How did you get here so quickly?" Archie asked at once. "Surely you haven't had time to ride to the house and back here since we were taken."

"We could have, but we didn't," Jules replied, tucking his gun into the back of his trousers as he went to untie Archie. "We talked with Buckland, then followed him to a meeting with Hammond, who we followed here."

"Hammond?" Archie exclaimed, rubbing his wrists before he turned to untie Horatio. "We should have known. No wonder he was doing his best to hang you in that farce of a court martial, Horatio."

Rebecca turned from her spot near the door. "We can discuss the particulars later, gentlemen. For now, I think we should get out of here with all due haste."

Before they could make it halfway to the door leading to the machine room, however, the front door opened. Lord Kennedy walked in, pistol trained on Rebecca, followed by two men with larger guns. "Leaving so soon?" he sneered.

~~~

Archie felt rage burning inside him. Leave it to his father to muck things up yet again. He watched, helpless at Horatio's side, as the League men took Rebecca's pistol and continued through to the other room, leaving the five of them alone.

He realised his father was lecturing and forced himself to pay attention. "...now you've handed me the spies as well as Hornblower. Good work, son."

"Handed you?" Archie replied incredulously. "I haven't handed you anything. Let them go."

Lord Kennedy laughed. "Let them go? Why would I do that?"

"You wanted me back. Let them go and I'll stay and do whatever you ask of me."

"Archie--" Horatio protested, but Archie wouldn't hear it.

"No. I will not let the rest of you pay for my family's shortcomings."

Another laugh, as Lord Kennedy aimed at Hornblower. "Poor boy, thinking he has any say in the matter. Don't you know," he said, looking at his son, "you'll be dead before morning unless I put you in that machine?"

"You're lying," Archie replied as he looked around for any means of escape. He could not allow his father to shoot Horatio. He'd die first. "The treatments were successful. I've gained my strength back."

"Of course. But there has to be one final one, once the subject is strong enough to withstand it, to set the revival permanently."

Archie spotted the gun sticking out of Jules's waistband. The League men hadn't even looked for other weapons. "I don't believe you," he said, shifting closer to Jules. If he could just get close enough, he could grab the gun and stop this madness. And if he got shot in the process, well, he'd be spared one more torture in the machine. And Horatio would live.

Rebecca had been silent the whole time, but now she glanced over at Archie. "I believe he is telling the truth, Archie. Our intelligence would support that theory."

With a shrug, Archie inched closer to Jules. He could almost reach the gun now. "No matter. I was supposed to die anyway; perhaps it would be better that way."

"Archie, no!" Horatio turned to meet his eyes. "You must live."

"He *will* live, Hornblower," Lord Kennedy ground out. "But you will not. However, I am a civilised man, and I will give you three seconds to ask forgiveness for your sins before I send you to Hell anyway." Lord Kennedy cocked his pistol. "One...."

Archie grabbed the gun from a startled Jules, shoving him to the ground in the process. He cocked the pistol as he raised his arm and fired. Only as he landed on the floor did he realise he'd been falling as he fired. A second later, his father fell into view, eyes open, fixed and glassy, a bullet hole through his neck.

Then Archie remembered hearing a second shot--and his father's gun had been aimed at Horatio. "Horatio? Are you all right?" He twisted around to see Horatio on the floor a few feet away. "Horatio?" Archie scrambled over to his friend, frantically searching for any sign of blood or injury.

"I'm fine, Archie. I fear I may have ducked the bullet a little harder than I intended," he said, still coughing a little from the impact of hitting the floor, "but I'm fine."

Rebecca helped Jules up from the ground. "I don't think we'll need to worry about Lord Kennedy anymore," she said, feeling the side of his neck for any sign of life.

"Indeed, we won't," Archie agreed, satisfaction warring with disbelief in his mind. He'd killed his father. Not that it hadn't been in the midst of defending himself and his friends and completely justifiable. Still, he'd killed his father....

A warm hand clasped his shoulder. "You did what had to be done," Horatio said, voice low in Archie's ear. "Thank you for saving my life--again."

"Just evening out the scales a bit," Archie joked, but his smile wavered as he stared at his father on the floor. Very carefully, he bent down, closed the man's eyes and took the pistol out of his lifeless fingers. He straightened and handed the pistol to Horatio. "You'd best get going."

Horatio shook his head. "We've got to get you into that machine. Then we'll all leave together."

"No. I won't get back into that thing."

"Archie, you'll die."

"So I will. But then," he looked at Rebecca, "I wasn't supposed to live anyway, was I?"

Rebecca wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do."

After a long moment, she looked him in the eye. "Mr Kennedy...Archie. If what you're saying were true, and you were not meant to live, then you could not have possibly killed Lord Kennedy, and therefore you would have irreversibly changed things as it is. All things considered, my advice is that you get in the damned machine!"

"I can't. I can't go through that again. You don't know what it's like."

Horatio whirled him around by the shoulder until they were face to face. "And you don't know what it's like to sit by and watch the person you care most about in the world die. But by God, Archie, if you don't get into that machine, I will."

"It would kill you!"

"Maybe. And if it did, we would each know how the other felt."

Archie stared at him. Surely he wasn't serious. Then he realised it didn't matter. It was silly to try to heap more pain on each other to make their own pain understandable--that was Horatio's point. "All right. One more time into Hell, then."

"Good." Horatio turned, fairly dragging Archie along--worried Archie might change his mind, no doubt, and with good reason. As the machine came into view, Archie had second thoughts, and third, and fourth. But the warm hand around his arm and the determined set of Horatio's jaw quelled them. Horatio would probably throw him into the machine if he refused at this point.

Rebecca aimed her gun at one League member standing a few feet from the machine, while Horatio concentrated his own on the man at the controls. "You're going to put him in that machine and run the final treatment," he said, voice laced with steel. "If he does not come out of it one hundred percent alive, he will not be the only one to die. Is that clear?" The man nodded slowly. "Good. Now, put him in."

Archie allowed himself to be strapped into the machine, swallowing the fear that threatened to manifest itself in a scream. He knew he'd be screaming soon enough.

The League member finished hooking the many tubes to the suit Archie had been encased in and returned to the controls, reaching for the switch.

"Stop!" Phileas's voiced echoed from the back of the room. Archie watched through the mask as Jules ran over to Phileas and another man. He couldn't hear their argument, but after a few moments, Phileas nodded. Apparently he'd decided to go along, because the man at the controls pulled the switch and Archie's world turned into nothing more than a blaze of fire.

An eternity later, he felt himself being lowered from the machine. The suit came off and strong arms carried him down off the raised area that held the machine. Horatio let his feet gently to the ground, but his knees buckled. He ended up on the floor in Horatio's lap, both of them laughing. "You're alive," Horatio said, sobering as he hugged Archie tightly.

"Yes, and I plan to stay that way."

"I shall see to it." Horatio pulled back, his thumb caressing Archie's cheek.

"That might be difficult. A navy commander would have a tough time protecting a dead mutineer."

Rebecca cleared her throat. "I hate to rush you after that, Archie, but we need to destroy this thing and get out of here."

"Of course." He stood carefully and leaned on Horatio as they walked out of the building. They waited a good distance away until the rest of the group joined them, a fuse in Rebecca's hand. She lit it silently, and moments later, the building exploded in a blaze of fire and debris.

"What happened to the other men?" Archie asked.

"They tried to stop us from setting the powder," Rebecca answered.

Archie nodded. "What now, then?"

Rebecca sighed. "Now...we go back to the house and sort things out."

~~~

The only thing decided that night was that Rebecca, Phileas, Jules and Boniface would go back to Kingston and fix things. What Rebecca meant, exactly, by 'fixing things' she did not say. After they'd had a late supper, Rebecca went off to speak to 'someone who would be of help,' as she put it, leaving the men to their own devices until she returned.

Phileas was standing alone on the dark porch to the inn when Boniface came up beside him. "Quite an agent, your Mrs Forrester."

"Yes, she is," Phileas agreed. He looked down at Boniface. "She learned from the best," he said softly.

"That much is obvious. I take it you were her teacher?"

Eyebrows arched, Phileas asked, "What makes you think that?"

"Some similarities in style, among other things."

"Ah, well, I was one of her teachers, I suppose. Though she has taught me a few things along the way."

Boniface laughed. "I can believe that. She does not seem to be the type to follow blindly."

"No, she has never been that. Too many stubborn role models."

Finishing off the rest of his drink, Boniface laughed. "I can believe that, too," he said with a knowing grin. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need another glass."

Phileas watched him go, then turned back to stare at the sleepy street, counting the seconds. To his surprise, it was almost a full minute before Jules joined him. "I was expecting you at least thirty seconds ago."

"I thought I'd give you a minute to recover," Jules said, standing so close they were touching. "Was it a good conversation?"

"Seeing him at such an age, realising what he was like and how much he must have gone through to be the man I remember...it was definitely educational. And yes, the conversation was good."

Jules smiled. "So coming back was a good thing?"

With a short laugh, Phileas raised his eyes toward the sky. "It would have been far better if we had never had to come back. But I am not entirely sorry."

"I guess that will have to do," Jules said with a grin. He clasped Phileas's shoulder for a second, then turned and went back inside, leaving his friend to contemplate the stars.

~~~

Archie and Horatio were barely out of bed the next morning before Rebecca, Phileas and Jules arrived. "We have good news," Rebecca said, joining the two men at the kitchen table.

Phileas leaned against the wall with the most genuine smile Horatio had ever seen on the man's face. Jules stood next to him, smiling as well.

"Well?" Archie asked. "Don't keep us waiting."

"Just a minute or two more, I should think," Rebecca replied. "We still have two more people to wait for. We thought we'd ride ahead and be sure you were...awake."

No amount of pleading could get any of them to talk, but it was only a few minutes before Boniface came in, followed by the most surprising person of all. "Commodore Pellew!" Horatio rose quickly from his chair. "This is a surprise." He glanced at Archie, then at Rebecca. What was she thinking?

"You see, Commodore?" Boniface said. "There he is. Alive, mostly recovered, and with all the gratitude His Majesty's Secret Service can give."

Pellew stared at Archie. "Mr Kennedy," he managed finally. "It is good to see you."

"Likewise, sir," Archie replied.

"I've told the Commodore," Boniface said, "as well as other parties in the navy, how you risked your life to give false testimony in the court martial at our request, allowing us to infiltrate the League of Darkness operation and capture Buckland and Hammond, along with their conspirators in the engineering of that mutiny, among other things."

"Indeed he has," Pellew nodded, either ignoring or pretending to ignore the stunned looks on Archie and Horatio's faces. "Yes, and I'm here to offer you your commission back, Mr Kennedy, if you would like it, though I'm told Mr Fogg would be happy to offer you a job with his group as well."

Boniface smiled. "That I would."

Archie started at them both until Horatio elbowed him. "Thank you, Mr Fogg, but I would like nothing more than to rejoin the navy."

"Excellent!" Pellew exclaimed. "Commander Hornblower, I believe you were looking for a first lieutenant. Have you anyone in mind?"

"I was hoping Lieutenant Kennedy could fill that position, sir." Horatio could not keep the grin off his face.

"Very well. Let us go back to Kingston and it shall be done."

Archie rose from the table, joining Horatio near the door. "We need to get our things from the other room."

"We'll wait outside," Rebecca said. She walked out the front door, everyone else following close behind, except for Pellew.

"Mr Hornblower," Pellew called as Horatio started towards the bedroom.

"Yes, sir?"

"You knew of Mr Kennedy's secret when you came to see me before leaving Kingston?"

Horatio nodded. "Yes, sir. I was on my way here to protect him. I'm sorry; I could not tell you."

"Of course not. I understand the importance of secrecy." Pellew's mouth relaxed into almost a smile. "Good work, Commander. You are a good friend, and a credit to the British Navy."

"Thank you, sir." Horatio turned towards the bedroom. He heard Pellew shut the front door as he entered the other room.

Archie was waiting. "What did Pellew want?"

"To congratulate me. Do you have everything?"

Laughing, Archie held up Horatio's one bag. He'd regained most of his strength with just one night's sleep, but even so it wouldn't have taken much to hold up such a small bag. "Yours and mine. We didn't bring much here, did we?"

"No. But what we found...." Horatio kissed him once, soundly, then let him go. "Ready?"

With a nod, Archie picked up the bag. "Horatio...it will be difficult on the ship."

"I know. But we'll manage. We've overcome death--how can anything seem so difficult after that?"

"Good point."

The two men walked out to join the others and ride back to Kingston.

~~~

It took only one day for the court martial of Buckland and Hammond to reach conclusion. Buckland, being a witless accomplice, was stripped of his commission and booted out of the navy. Hammond, for his part in the treason, was sentenced to hang.

Archie and Horatio had one final lunch with the secret service agents before their departure. "So, are you staying for the hanging?" Horatio asked Rebecca as they finished their meal.

She shook her head. "We're far overdue to leave as it is. We're on the way in a few minutes, in fact."

Boniface leaned towards her. "Are you going back to England? Perhaps we could all share the journey."

"I'm afraid not, unfortunately. It would have been fun."

"Yes, I believe it would have. Ah, well, if you ever need a partner, I would be honoured to work with you again. *Any* of you," he added, his gaze taking in the two Naval officers, Jules, and landing finally on Phileas.

With a smile, Phileas nodded. "And we would be honoured to work with you as well."

Rebecca stood. "Time we left, I think."

The group filed out onto the street. From atop her horse, Rebecca looked down at Horatio. "You did not say if you were planning to stay for the hanging."

"My ship, thanks to Commodore Pellew's work while I was away, is more or less ready to go. We sail at first light, so we'll miss it."

"Can't say I'm sorry, either," Archie added. "I want to be well past all this. And I've been too close to more than enough death lately."

Horatio moved closer until his arm was touching Archie's shoulder--it was as close as he could get to an embrace on the open street. "Let us pray for a quiet journey, at least for a week or two."

"Indeed," Archie agreed.

Phileas and Jules reined in next to Rebecca. "It was a pleasure to meet you all," Rebecca said to the three men on the ground.

"Yes, it was certainly interesting," Phileas said.

"Good luck," Jules added, and the three rode away.

Boniface shook both their hands. "I'm off to find passage back to England."

"We would be happy to give you a cabin on the Retribution sir," Horatio offered.

"Thank you, Commander. But it's probably best that I don't travel with the navy unofficially. I feel certain we'll meet again one day." He strode off towards the inn.

"Well, Archie," Horatio said with a smile. "Shall we go ready the ship?"

Archie gave him an answering grin. "Lead on, Horatio. I'm content to follow."

---
END


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