#alsw

The wind blewthrough Embleton’s hair, his curls long and utterly untamable by neither handnor brush. He gripped the railing of Serapis’top deck, jaw clenched as tightly as his fingers which were digging into therailing wood. David was overcome, to have Embleton speak to him like this – so openlybut so shut off at the same time, it filled him with a menagerie of feelingsbut pity could not be found amongst them.

“Whatever myfather has told you of me, whatever opinion you may have or come to have of me…I need you to understand this.” Embleton did not look at his captain, but hisvoice softened, “Please believe me when I say I am many things, but I am notbroken.”

The naturalist’sability to hold a grudge was fierce and endless. And David had, with Embleton’sallowance, begun to understand just how deeply the poison-edged sword of Sir FrancisHall was embedded within his son.

To hear thedesperation, though not audible in tone but to know it was there, David felt the plea in his heart. He understoodtoo well what Embleton was asking of him. Numerous times he had asked it ofAddie, and he had asked it of Caulderson before their tragedy. And yet, henever felt relieved of it.

Davidapproached the conversation cautiously, knowing the fickle and fiery nature ofhis counterpart. He stared at the stars just as Embleton did, and felt closerto him within a moment though their physical distance did not change.

“I neverthought you were broken, Embleton.”

Embleton’sbody stiffened in David’s peripheral, but still David kept from looking at him –knowing this vulnerability would make him flee if he was forced to look atDavid head on.

“You are manythings; that is true. You are… one of the most intelligent men I know. And oneof the most stubborn. And you are terribly beautiful and arrogant. But no, youare not broken.”

David slid ahand over the air atop the railing and set it firmly on Embleton’s. He couldfeel the tendons in the naturalist’s hand tighten, then slowly relax with therest of him.