A/N: To any eagle-eyed reader, yes, I am not being faithful to the books' events in this fic. This was written entirely to satisfy my own cravings for more of our favorite "dadmiral"! ;) Takes place shortly after the last episode of the series.

I will note that any mention I make to Pellew's career (and his family life) is based on his real-life self. If you have the time to do a little research, his life makes a fascinating read!

(This was written in two sittings and edited in another, so apology in advance if there are some glitches. I was just too excited to get this out!)

The cobblestones streets of Portsmouth were a spidery web of interconnecting gateways opening to every portal of local society. While it was never prudent for a high-standing gentleman to wander those back alleyways alone, a stirring temptation for the twitching fingers of the lower classes, one such gentleman strolled casually in the softening sunset glow one spring evening.

He did not fear the envious degenerate who might desire his long, gold-trimmed jacket or the engraved pocket watch he had pulled out to examine the time with, naval sword hanging obediently at his hip ready and waiting should any trouble arise. But the man suspected no such peril upon himself that night, for the soothing warm air had left nobleman and poor man alike with only contented feelings of goodwill now that Spring had raised her sweet face to warm them again.

Six-thirty, Admiral Pellew noted as he returned the watch to its place in his jacket; not too early to seek out a good tavern after such a day as he'd had.

While a man of such title as Sir Edward Pellew could have chosen the very highest (and most expensive) of establishments for his refreshment, he chose instead to wander about the quiet streets, lulled by the peaceful sounds of evening, in search of a more private venue where he might quietly enjoy a pint of ale. After spending the last four days in hot debate with his fellow officers over the court-marshaling of one vicious excuse for a Navy captain, his spirits toward the innate decency of mankind had reached an irreversible low. All he wanted now was to settle into a small, intimate little pub though it might make him slightly homesick for his Devonshire, nurse a tankard of ale, and feel the stresses of his station melt away - even if only for a few blessed moments.

One such establishment caught Sir Edward's eye not far into his search, a quaint little shop-front with candles aglow in the front window as if beckoning passersby inside, the heavy oak door propped open to let patrons - and some of the welcoming warm air - enter. As if Fate herself had brought such a place to his attention, Pellew allowed himself to be drawn in not unlike a moth to flame, feeling an overwhelming - if not unexplainable - need to pass the threshold and peer inside.

A few groups of men huddled together dotted the tables, a tell-tale game of euchre being played with fierce concentration by a group of elder gentlemen, while several others occupied a booth and talked amongst themselves. Seeing his wide Naval hat grace the doorway, several of the men looked up and nodded in welcome (to Pellew's relief, no recognition dawned on their faces, as none of the patrons seemed to be men of the sea) and then returned to their companions; only one man who sat hunched in a corner booth staring owlishly into a large bottle seemed to ignore his entrance, but no matter. The proprietor had then seen the Admiral hanging about at the threshold and was beckoning him in, already filling that wonderful mug of ale which had brought him here.

Pellew settled himself upon one of the cushioned stools at the bar - removing his hat reverently to set it beside him - and sampled the beverage that had been eagerly pushed underneath his nose with the expectant eyes of the barkeep upon him. A reverent noise from the Admiral seemed to satisfy the man quite effectively, as the unspoken compliment immediately solicited a grin upon the man's ruddy features as though he had just witnessed his highest aspirations fulfilled; a nod passed between them and then his attentions returned to drying the dripping mug dangling in his hand.

As the warm brew slid easily down to warm him to the very pit of his stomach, Pellew felt the stressors of his ordeal begin to melt away not unlike the snow that had clung fiercely to the hillsides. Such a distasteful matter as the business of a court-marshal, especially one as black as this particular case had been, was not the way in which he would have wished to help reacquaint himself with the harbor his Indefatigable had once called home; yet there had been something quite Right about setting the Culloden's anchor down in so familiar a berth, despite his meetings with the Admiralty leading to such a distasteful a task...

Alas, his duty had required no other course of action, and so here he sat - in a tiny, humble pub far from his ship and his responsibilities as her Captain - allowing the alcohol to begin untangling the knots binding up his bunched shoulders and the peaceful, still air to bring him some solace at last. But despite his empty glass having been refilled by his over-eager guardian behind the bar the moment it had been drained, its burgeoning replacement did little to fill the hole that a little honest companionship would succeed in doing much more effectively.

So it was that Admiral Pellew surveyed the pub's patrons more closely, warmed into an amiable (and uncharacteristically conversational) mood by the contents of his mug, spurred on by the hope that his search might select by random fortune an evening's companion to while away the night hours before he must return to his ship - and to reality.

His gaze was instantly drawn away from the crusty gentlemen - whom he wagered were merchants of long standing - and their game of euchre which grew more and more impassioned by the moment, his thoughts suddenly assaulted with memories of such exciting games played in the company of his most cherished of officers; yet even though such a saddening reminder of days long gone picked at his fragile spirits, he could not help but smile fondly into his ale at the remembrance of those many games of whist played smartly by his Lieutenant Hornblower in this very port. Such an uncanny ability that lad had...

Now that he had since taken up his station as Admiral of the White, his "most promising officer" was effectively whisked away from his sights altogether, though he had the good fortune of crossing spars with the Hotspur once while escorting a merchant convoy, but their reunion was short-lived and the dinner together aboard his new ship rather bittersweet to be fully appreciated.

The Admiral allowed a rather pitiful sigh to escape him at the memory as he swallowed a second sip of his brew; he had not seen the young man since.

He would not deny he missed the lad's enthusiasm, his exceptional insights into the machines of war and mankind, but most of all, his loyal service and fine companionship. As much as the Admiral valued all of the young men under his guidance, Hornblower had been an exception - more than just a midshipman and then a lieutenant - more than a fellow comrade. He had been, even for a man of his inexperience and younger years, at the very least, a friend; and, the Admiral realized miserably while sitting alone at the bar surrounded by obviously close companions, may be the last of such friends, as his group of kinship was - quite literally - dying out. Ah, the joys of life…

A sudden chorus of booming voices brought Sir Edward out of his reverie, causing him to turn toward the disturbance to see said group of companions - of much younger stock than the other - stirring from their booth and attempting to weave their drunken way to the door as one great mass of flailing limbs and obnoxious laughter. As they stumbled out the door and into the street, Pellew mused ruefully, Well, no opportunity for intelligent conversation amongst that bunch.

That just left the reclusive fellow barricaded in the farthest booth; in one last desperate action, Pellew turned on the stool to get a more appraising look at the man only to - despite having not nearly enough ale to cause such a lack of mastery over his limbs - nearly tip off his perch in astonishment.

From his original vantage point in the doorway, Sir Edward had not caught sight of the dark curly ringlets of hair springing out from beneath the bicorn hat which had been pulled down to hide red-rimmed dark eyes; nor had he noted the epaulettes gracing the shoulders of the man's naval jacket which hid slumped shoulders. And despite the man's obvious intentions toward hiding himself, such a tall lean frame was not so easy to conceal - especially from a former captain with so keen an eye. How had Pellew not seen him before?

Intent on rectifying his distractedness for fear the young man might recognize him and think him rude for ignoring him (and to rectify his lonesome ruminations), Admiral Pellew strode over with ale in hand intent on doing some very serious reunification.

Little did he know what awaited him.

The boy jumped like a cat set on hot bricks when his former Admiral's baritone hail startled him out of his bleary solitude, shaking hand nearly sending the brown bottle - its contents now pounding inside of his head - toppling from its perch and to the floor. Luckily, Horatio's nerves remained somewhat intact despite his intent to dull them completely, and as he answered Pellew's characteristic salutation of "Mr. Hornblower!" with his own murmured greeting and righted the bottle with a listless hand.

"What a most unexpected pleasure! Are you well, sir," came the expected query as the Admiral wasted no time in dragging a chair to the table and settling down upon it, his face alight as though the sight of the young man had been an answer to prayer. Horatio despaired that though Pellew seemed to be in the good graces of the Almighty, he certainly was not.

But best not burden the Admiral with his meager problems, and so Hornblower only nodded dumbly in response, the rum having effectively stolen his tongue.

His downcast eyes did not see the flicker of concern pass over his former Captain's eyes at his unusual lack of good humor, but the man seemed too warmed by his mug of ale to seem bothered by it and sailed on, asking for the innocence of conversation's sake, "And how is Mrs. Hornblower? Is she well also?"

Sir Edward instantly regretted allowing the words to leave his mouth, for the lad answered with such a despairing cry the man first panicked and thought him suddenly injured in some way. It was then that the young man at last met his now worried gaze with bloodshot eyes glazed by strong drink, dark shadows sagging underneath them like canvas under no wind.

Witnessing such a bedraggled excuse for a captain sitting before him, Pellew felt as though he had swallowed a cannon ball; he dared not ask for fear of the answer he dreaded, yet his lips formed the words without his consent. Moved by the emotions plain on the lad's usually stoic face, he reached forward and grasped the limp wrist on the table and squeezed it in sympathy.

"Has she - has she died," the directness of his question made Sir Edward flinch, but he pressed on. He had not spoken with the young man in so long; so much could have happened!

The boy shook his head again, the vehemence causing his listing bicorn hat to abandon ship altogether; the Admiral noticed with concern that Hornblower did not seem to notice at all, his usually plaited curls loose and flying freely as though he had been struck by lightning.

"No, no, not that," Hornblower stammered as though to himself and not to the elder man leaning over the table to catch his words. Hearing that, Pellew sighed audibly in relief, feeling its effects washing over him in soothing waves; the lad had been through sorrow enough. Yet the Admiral remained mystified at what could be upsetting the young man enough to cause him to take such uncharacteristic actions, musing that this was the first time he had ever witnessed the lad overcome by drink, or so by emotion. Sir Edward suddenly felt angry impatience boil in his chest at the lad for being so unforthcoming; he wanted to know what was troubling him so!

"What has happened, man? Has she fallen into some misfortune? Speak up!"

"She's with child," Hornblower answered in a near wail that discredited his advancing years.

Pellew leaned back in his chair and blinked, for that was not the answer he had expected. He would have been happy to order another round of drinks in celebration had Hornblower not been acting as though his crew had mutinied and his ship had been lost in a gale.

An idea seized him and he despaired again for the lad.

"It is not yours," he stated tentatively - more a fact and less a question - for he again dreaded the answer.

When Hornblower had first become a married man, Pellew found himself - as fathers often do for the futures of their children - worrying that the young man was not so keen on the match, for even Hornblower with all his senses of Duty and Rightness was a man all the same and not a machine; he suffered from the same cravings as any of their sex, and to see him so indifferent to the delicacies of marriage left the elder man - who missed his own wife quite dearly at times - fretful for the strength of the union. She had seemed a charming enough creature, with what appeared to be a similar sense of Duty as that of her husband.

Never was Pellew more strangely proud than when the young man met his judgmental query with a look of righteous indignation at having his woman's honor slandered so, and the Admiral succeeded in easing Hornblower's quiet fury by looking successfully chastened when the young man gave a rather loud, convincing, "No!"

At last, Hornblower seemed to take pity on Sir Edward when he met the man's exasperated gaze, for he hung his head and finally divulged what was troubling him to such a degree.

"She's to deliver the child tonight!"

At that wondrous statement, Admiral Sir Edward Pellew threw his head back and laughed, the chair in which he sat creaking in protest as he leaned back in mirth.

Hornblower looked practically horrified that such a frightful statement was met by the elder man with such lightheartedness and not the anxiety which was trying to tear his own insides apart; her screams had merged with the rum in his head and swirled around to create quite a nightmarish concoction that would haunt his dreams for many futures to come.

Perhaps the utter distress was clear on Horatio's face, or perhaps the lad looked as though he were close to tears, for Pellew, upon seeing the humor of the situation was not reciprocated, cut his mirth short with a wipe of his eyes and patted the clammy hand still in reach.

"Come now, Hornblower, it's not that bad! You should be at home," Sir Edward found himself speaking in a kindly, chastening tone that he would use to address one of his own sons but did not feel amiss by doing so; it felt very right, oddly enough.

Said father-to-be's eyes grew three times their usual size at the remark, and he shook his head again in that damnable way that made him look like a school-boy of eight and not the near thirty-year-old Post Captain he was. This will be a hard-fought battle, Pellew mused, for Hornblower's stubbornness was a formidable enemy to conquer.

"No, Sir, I cannot bear it!"

The Admiral opened his mouth to speak quietening words to his young companion, but the lad powered on like a frigate under full sail, "The screaming, Sir, I cannot stand it! It is as though she is being run through!"

Said Admiral could well sympathize, for of all six of his children, he had witnessed one-too-many enter the world for the good of his nerves, finding some rueful humor in the fact that though he commanded over six hundred and fifty souls in battle with nary a qualm, nothing terrified him more than simple biology. (1)

And yet, nothing could replace the feeling when said wailing had ceased, only to be replaced by the wondrous cries of the tiny being they had been waiting so anxiously for. Pellew felt his mind set at the sweetness of those few memories, for he had not been present when his first child - his daughter - had entered the world. It was one of his few regrets...

Without a word of warning, Sir Edward rose to his feet and pushed away the chair with a loud scrape, frightening his bleary-eyed companion out of his miserable stupor. Dipping into his waistcoat pocket, Pellew dropped several coins on the wood table with a dull plink, for he feared the lad in his despair may have entirely forgotten payment for his bottled courage.

Leaning over, he snatched up Hornblower's mistreated hat and without preamble returned it to the curly head, taking the lad's arm in a firm and yet gentle grip. The young man, too heartsick and drunk to care where he was being led and to what end he was being led there, stumbled obediently to his Admiral's side and followed him out the doors of the pub and into the fresh air of the street.

"Come, my boy," the Admiral murmured as he patted the lad's shoulder as they walked. "We're going home."

There was no sound when Sir Edward Pellew and Horatio Hornblower at last stumbled past the cottage's threshold and through the heavy oak door. The silence instantly reached the young father-to-be's ears, for he swore a pitifully whispered oath and promptly turned on heel to leave the way he had come; an Admiral's jacket and towering gold-trimmed hat blocked his escape.

Hands took both of the younger man's shoulders in a bolstering grip as they stood him tall, their owner's fears rising too at the lack of sound but keeping such emotions under strict control for the sake of his companion.

"Courage, man, courage!"

Hornblower looked as though he were attempting to swallow a stone, his pale countenance twisting as he turned to mount the stairs and discover the fate of his wife and their child. He hesitated on the first step but turning to see his commanding officer standing behind him with an expectant look on his face, Hornblower set his jaw determinedly as though the elder man's encouragements were orders from the Crown. Just as he were readying himself to march upward, a sound floated down from the upper level to wash over both men.

Soft, tiny cries met their ears.

Pellew found himself relieved almost to tears himself at the sound, unable to hide the grin that instantly spread across his features as his former lieutenant looked back to him in an expression of wonder before bounding awkwardly up the stairs two at a time at his Admiral's "go on, then" gesture. The young man bellowed his wife's name as he ascended, and the Admiral could hear him being answered by two feminine voices.

Wandering into the sitting room opposite the foyer, Sir Edward found himself at the mercy of his suddenly weakening limbs and sank into an armchair in giddy relief; it would not do for him to intrude in such a private affair and he did not care at all if in the celebrations his presence was forgotten. He could only chuckle and shake his head at the wonder of it all and thank the Almighty that both child and mother appeared to have been spared any suffering; though he could not say so much with regard to the father!

Hornblower, a father. What a novel idea...

Pellew's happy ruminations were cut short when shouting resumed upstairs, startling the elder man as Hornblower thundered down the banister, hollering at the top of his lungs as he searched for his former captain.

"It's a boy! Sir, it's a boy!"

Some of Hornblower's excitement succeeded in wearing off on the tired, old Admiral, as he pumped the lad's hand in return despite it being nearly purple when the young man at last let go, congratulations being offered and received multiple times as the young man galloped blindly around the room like a gangling thoroughbred colt discovering his limbs. Then, like a wisp of smoke, the young man had dashed up the stairs again, returning Pellew to the company of his own thoughts.

It was not to last, however; for as Sir Edward returned to his chair - chest warmed by alcohol and happy circumstance - and to his thoughts of family tucked far away in Devon where he could but only miss them dearly at such times, that Hornblower descended the stairs - noticeably slower this time but still excitedly - to trot to the Admiral's side, blabbering the same nonsense words he had before. But this time, bundled snugly in white linens, was the child in question, red face scrunched in displeasure at being jostled so by his exuberant father.

"Look, Sir, it's a boy!"

Pellew almost laughed again in that moment, the words "I can see that" flitting temptingly across his lips, but his gaze was too enraptured by the small creature in the young man's arms to tear his mind away for such snappishness. While the babe's eyes were stained a newborn's blue, the elder man had no doubt that they would be dark like his fathers; but what the man found himself marveling at was the delicate, corkscrew curls already thick on the child's head, golden brown and glowing in the candle light. Must be his mother's trait, he thought to himself as he tried valiantly to resist the urge to reach over and twist a strand in his finger.

The newest member of the Hornblower family at last decided he had quite enough of being bounced around and stared at, the tiny nose bunching in disgust and the tiny red mouth opening to let out a lusty wail that rivaled his father's own battle cry in its volume. Though the sound was an old and nostalgic one for the Admiral, who winced but was accustomed to its effect on the ears, the new father immediately froze in terror as though he had been its cause.

Seeing the lad's knees were beginning to knock and fearing Hornblower in his drink-addled state might do something foolish like fainting dead away, Sir Edward suddenly felt the compelling urge to take the child in his own steadier arms, acting upon said urge before he had even contemplated what he was doing. Having been relieved of his burden, the pale-faced young man pivoted and thundered up the stairs again as though no one else was there, self-loathing surely overcoming him at mistaking a child's usual noises for indications of his own failures. Pellew sent his gaze briefly heavenward in silent prayer; Heaven help the lad from this moment on!

Yet more important in that moment than Hornblower's self-perceived failings was Sir Edward's newest charge, who upon finding himself in new surroundings and with a new face to look upon had quietened to stare owlishly into the dark gaze of his new handler. Pellew returned to his chair, finding that like sailing a ship, the motions began to come back to him like a long-forgotten but well-loved dance as he rocked the child in strong arms.

Smug satisfaction soon followed as the minutes passed, the stillness of the room without his lumbering father stumbling about and the gentle rocking of the Admiral's cradled arms sending the little one into the blissful realm of sleep. When next he wrote Susan, he would be sure to remind her he still had "the touch" after all.

Watching the rosy face and delicate eyelashes flutter as they were closed in sleep, Sir Edward Pellew marveled at the strangeness of life. The most unwelcome of circumstances could bring the best of life's moments, he realized suddenly; and this moment, cradling the new child of a young man he almost thought of as more his own than his own flesh and blood, was such a moment he would cherish for as long as he drew breath.

For it was then that he spoke to the tiny boy, realizing with some emotion that a kinship was developed in that very moment, a special bond that would not be easily broken.

"Well, Mr. Hornblower," he whispered down to the tiny features that twitched at the rumbling of his voice. "I suppose this makes you my first grandchild..."

Fin (2)

(1) This is my interpretation of events, as I have no way of knowing if Pellew had really been present for his children's births or not. Otherwise, the other details are true.

(2) Again, I have no way of knowing if he had any grandchildren by this point in his career. It was just too temptingly sweet not to add ;)