As well versed in human nature as was Shakespeare, Archie was not confounded by any acts of humankind. He had suffered cruelty at the hands of his personal Iagos, not to be smothered like Desdemona as his zest for life endured beneath the callousness of men of baser natures. He had survived the slings and arrows that would have defeated lesser men, but one man did astound him with his righteousness that would put Greek heroes to shame. This man had endured tragedies comparable to Odysseus, but his character remained unreadable beneath his mask of stolid Britishness that would serve him well if he entered the aristocracy.

Archie sighed as he observed the impatient gait of his friend, pacing the length of their cell as he did each day it rained. What was he contemplating as he lengthened his stride, his face furrowing and frowning like sea captains debating whether to ride the storms or not. Archie would have been pleased to engage his companion in conversation, but knew how thunderous his temper was at this early hour. That calm facade concealed tempests more destructive than any Prospero and Miranda encountered, but there was gentleness repressed too.

He had witnessed the affectionate nature when death had anointed him, but the unparalleled concern had resurrected him. With mathematical precision of heaven, his companion had been vigil at his side for weeks like his guardian angels. He had not prayed to be rescued, but the tenderness in those brown eyes and pale hands could not be resisted. In the most desperate moments, he had been tempted to consummate this loving touch with his lustful lips, especially when warm breath blew against his neck both hot and heavy. He smiled at this hopeless desire, knowing that it would be miraculous if Horatio revealed such human compassion again.

Archie gazed upon his friend, noting how the inner turmoil must be waning as the pacing became foot scuffling. Morning pleasantries would begin in minutes, but the anxious creases of the face seemed deeper today. Was Horatio contemplating escape, though he had garnished parole privileges for the men because of their heroics? It had been two months since Oldroyd had instigated discussion, but that had been conversation regarding the tactics Horatio would have used as opposed to the strategically challenged plans of Hunter.

His thoughts were interrupted as Horatio cleared his throat, communicating the importance of what words he was about to speak. Archie gazed upon his friend with his gentle smile, but it must have discerned Horatio who had the stance of officers accused of the gravest offenses. Whatever was about to transpire, it must be serious as Horatio straightened his shoulders as if to protect the honor upon his shoulders while his countless crimes were listed.

Finally, Horatio spook, his eyes gazing with intensity at his companion, "Uh, Archie?"

Archie nodded, "Yes, Horatio?"

Horatio cleared his throat, "Well, when I look in the mirror I can't believe what I see."

Archie chuckled at this omission, "What do you expect when you have not shaved in three day?"

Horatio frowned, but continued to argue, "But tell me, who's this funky dude staring back at me?"

Archie raised his eyebrows at his ramrod straight friend, "Are you attempting to converse with me as you did with Miss Cobham?"

Horatio allowed his shoulders to slump as he allowed his disgruntled body language to speak as his mouth did, "I'm broken, beaten down and I can't even get around without an old-man cane because I just fall and hit the ground."

Archie frowned at the desperate expression upon the face of his companion, "Are you having nightmares about being in the oubliette?"

Horatio continued his lament, "No, I, well, but I'm shivering in the cold. I'm bitter and alone."

Archie arose to steady the shoulders of his friends as he spoke gently, "No you aren't alone, Horatio."

Horatio shuddered beneath the grasp of Archie, "Excuse the bitching. I shouldn't complain, but I should have no feeling,"Archie was uncertain how to respond, considering the unwritten rule of conversation with Horatio was that emotions were taboo. His initial reaction was that Horatio was attempting to amuse him from predetermined script, but the expression on his face was not one that any actor could portray with the combination of emotions. Archie was about to ask what else disturbed his friend, but the foundling of his hands confounded him as pale, calloused hands caressed his own.

"Archie, all I'm feeling is pain," Horatio spoke low as he ushered Archie nearer his person. "Everything I need is denied me and everything I want is taken away from me."

Archie sputtered as arms sensuously encapsulated him, "You think I don't understand what you're going through and-"

"But who do I got to blame?" Horatio interpreted as his face intersected with that of Archie. "Nobody but me. And I don't want to be a lone man anymore."

Archie was assessing the possibilities of what Horatio meant as his hopeless desire became reality, so he allowed his body to relax in the calculating grasp.

Horatio breathed upon his neck, his breath hot and heavy, "It's been a year or two since I was out on the deck, shaking booty, making sweet love all the night."

Archie gasped, "Horatio, I never-"

"Archie, it's time I got back to the good life," Horatio sighed before plundering his puckered lips upon the neck of his victim. As he drew his mouth upward to the ears, he whispered, "It's time I got back, it's time I got back. I just need to admit I want crumpet with my tea."

The hunger of physical lust was satiated as one mouth nibbled the ear and another moaned for more, with the lascivious Horatio declaring, "Hear me? I want crumpet with my tea!"

With the words spoken, Horatio and Archie feasted upon one another both as predator and prey, with hopeless desires forgotten as love and lust tasted flesh, sweat, and blood during the storm.