Sea Patrol Fan Fic: Not Your Average Sailor (12/?)

[nyafangirl]

 
Title:Not Your Average Sailor
Author: somebodysangel/ nyafangirl
Part: 12/?
Rating: PG
Characters: Nav/ET, Bomber/Spider, Ensemble
Genre: Angst/Friendship/Romance
Summary: It was an ordinary day, an ordinary boarding, just another illegal fishing vessel…or was it? “How did the guy manage to shoot two of my sailors when there were six armed personnel on his ship?”
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.
Notes: Thanks to Thea for the banner. Sorry for the delay, all my LJ-followers.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

1015 hours

He stared at the table in front of him, thinking hard. There was a lot riding on this decision, and he didn’t want to rush. But by the same token, he couldn’t justify keeping them waiting for too long. Already they were shifting irritably, the rickety hospital chairs loudly announcing every miniscule movement. She was a calming presence beside him, her breaths soft against his neck, and though he knew it was killing her to remain silent, he was grateful she wasn’t trying to influence his decision.

“Two,” He finally made up his mind, eliciting loud sighs of relief from his crewmates.

“Bout time, Spide,” Charge said, laying down his own bet. “It’s poker, not chess.”

Spider and Bomber both opened their mouths to object, but Buffer got in first. “He’s learning, give him a break,” He admonished, then cracked a grin. “But seriously mate, all that time thinking and you only bet two?”

Bomber lifted a foot to kick him, but overbalanced and fell off the bed with a clatter, very nearly taking Spider’s IV with her. All four men instantly reached out for her, Spider managing to touch her finger before she went over.

“Well that was embarrassing.” She announced, ignoring the hand Buffer offered and pushing herself up off the floor. The moment she got to her feet, she silently turned to kick Buffer in the leg, then crawled back onto the bed and settled herself beside Spider once again.

Buffer glared at her as he rubbed his leg - she hadn’t held anything back with the kick, and was still wearing her heavy dress shoes. He surveyed the table and turned his eyes to the man sitting directly across from him. “You calling, Swaino?”

They took their cues from Buffer, focusing back onto the game as Swain folded, his face screwing up in frustration.

Spider turned his head to whisper in Bomber’s ear, “You okay?”

She smirked and lightly ran her fingers up his arm, “Fine. Nothing hurt but my pride.”

“It was a pretty impressive fall, even from my perspective.” He blew into her ear in a way he knew she hated, giving her a shit-eating grin when she threw him a murderous look.

“Ahem.” A fake cough drew their attention away from one another, and they turned back to find three very different faces staring at them. Swain, the one who had spoken, was amused; Charge looked wistful whilst Buffer had an expression Spider couldn’t quite place. It almost looked like…jealousy. But he couldn’t seriously be envious of Spider, could he? Did Buffer really want to be stuck in a hospital bed with a hole in his gut, a cast on his arm and his future prospects in tatters? Then Bomber shifted next to him and it clicked.

But before Spider could ponder this new realisation, Bomber leaned forward and gathered his cards. “Hey! Those’re mine!” He moved his good hand to take them from her, but was hampered by the IV in the back of his hand. “I let you stay because you promised you’d let me learn.”

“But you’re so slow.” She replied, examining the two cards while also keeping them out of his reach.

“You taking over isn’t going to help me learn any faster,” he pointed out, cursing his injured arm, which forced him to lie flat. Unable to get to her hand, he instead poked her in the stomach.

She grabbed his fingers away from her midsection and squeezed, “I’m not taking over, I - Spide why the hell are you betting so low?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and he stared at her incredulously. Sheepishly passing him back the cards, she managed to keep her voice steady when she murmured, “Okay, maybe you’re learning quicker than I thought.”

All four men rolled their eyes, and Spider didn’t gain any more money before winning the hand with his straight flush.

The game continued, Bomber more content to sit and watch now that she was sure the others weren’t taking advantage of the newbie. Although he struggled to remember the hierarchy of winning hands and couldn’t bluff to save his life, Spider’s tactics were excellent, and he was able to take a few largish pots. She watched him fondly, the smile on his face so wide she could almost forget they were someplace other than the junior sailors’ mess.

Swain called his atrocious attempt at a bluff, and the room was filled with raucous laughter for a minute before a hiss caused all mirth to drain from the room instantly. All eyes were on Spider, who was clutching his bad arm, eyes screwed up in agony.

Bomber scrambled off the bed and watched as Swain tried to get Spider to communicate, while Buffer pressed the buzzer for the nurse. She didn’t realise her hand was over her mouth and nose until she struggled to take a breath; which was only after the nurse had come in and administered another dose of painkillers. Spider instantly relaxed, thought his grimace told her the pain wasn’t entirely numbed.

She shouldn’t have been sitting up there with him, it had only been asking for trouble when he had cords going every which way and wasn’t able to move his right arm without crying out. When the boys had first walked into the room with the pack of cards, she hadn’t thought twice about climbing into bed beside him; had actually been surprised Spider allowed her to do it, given he still hadn’t spoken a word directly to her. But neither was she going to let him out of her sight when he was still feeling so fragile; she had felt the tightening of his hand in hers the moment the door opened. As much as Spider was glad to see his - their - friends, he wasn’t entirely comfortable being around them while he was confined to the bed. His entire life, friendships, had revolved around physical activities, and he wasn’t sure how to act when this was impossible. Bomber knew all this without him explaining it; she listened and interpreted the stories he told her when they shared takeout and pretended to watch movies while on shore leave together.

So she stayed, even after he relaxed enough to join in the joking, enjoying a rare moment of being able to observe the friendship without having to hide her affection. Unlike Nav and ET, she and Spider had made a concerted effort to hide their relationship while on board, and although the more observant crew members - Buffer, Nav and Swain - had figured it out, they had still been hiding from the bosses. But now that everything was in the open, and the captain seemed to have accepted the relationship without serious consequences, she felt free to blur that line between friendship and something more.

“Spider, your fingers are purple!” Swain’s voice cut through Bomber’s thoughts and she blinked, eyes focusing on the cast lying on top of the bed clothes.

The fingertips peeking out the end of the fibreglass were, as Swain had just explained, a purpley-blue colour, which reminded Bomber of the colour of her hands when she made mulberry pies.

Bomber let out a gasp and her eyes flew to his, expecting her shock to be reflected on his face. But there was only curiosity in his brown eyes, as if the motionless limb belonged to another person. His brow furrowed as he tried to do something, but there was no movement anywhere in the room. Alarm flashed briefly in his eyes before concentration returned. The entire room was silent save for the perpetual beep of his heart monitor…a beep that was steadily increasing as he panicked.

“I…ca…ee…em.” It was a whisper that she would have missed had her gaze not been locked on his face.

As it was she couldn’t understand the words, “What?”

“My fingers.” Horror-stricken eyes met hers, and she drew in a shaky breath. “I can’t feel them.”

Although she’d been aware of the severity of his injuries before, the cast had blinded her to the real issue; it was only now that she comprehended that the cast coming off wouldn’t mean everything was alright. The full weight of it hit her, and even though tears welled up in her eyes, she refused to let them fall in front of the crew, in front of him. She knew he would interpret them as pity tears and it was the last thing she wanted. She contemplated leaving the room to compose herself, only to dismiss the idea in the next second. If crying was pity, what would he think of her leaving, however briefly?

But it must have shown in her eyes, for his face twisted in a snarl. “Go ahead and leave then, I know you want to.” His eyes were turning liquid too, and their gazes locked, oblivious to everyone else in the room. “It’s only a matter of time anyway.” She just gaped at him, completely gobsmacked at the outburst. He motioned to the door with his good arm, “Don’t let the door smack you on the way out, Becky.”

If the sarcasm dripping from every word of his last sentence hadn’t clued her in, the fact that he used her most hated nickname? Caused any sympathy to go flying out the window, along with her tears. She stalked towards him and poked him in the chest roughly. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because you’re already confined to this bed.” A grin broke through her thunderous façade. “You’re going to be asking me to leave long before I choose to.”

……………………

1025 hours

No matter how long he stared at her, no matter how many times he saw her chest rise and fall with his own eyes, ET couldn’t forget that it was a machine doing this for her. And even if he had somehow managed to trick his mind, the audible sucking would remind him.

Nav lay in front of him, and yet she wasn’t really there. Everything he associated with the woman he loved; the sparkle in her eyes, the sound of her laugh, the wide grin on her face when she looked at him - it was all gone. Her body was a prison, trapping inside everything that made her Nikki.

And yet…her hand was warm in his. There was a bruise where the IV needle pierced her arm. Yes she was still alive, and he clung to that fact like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drowning in misery.

The bump at her midsection moved with her breaths, and he gazed at it, imagining his child moving around inside. The child he had only found out about the previous morning. One which he was still trying to wrap his head around, even as he wordlessly urged Nav to wake up, to prove to him that everything was going to work out.

If he hadn’t woken before the alarm yesterday morning, hadn’t heard her retching in the bathroom, would she have told him? Or would he have been informed as the others were; by the sight of her swollen stomach?

…the previous morning…

ET blinked, and frowned at the ceiling. He turned his head to peer at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock; 0640 hours. What on earth had woken him up almost an hour before the alarm?

Then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of retching. Coming from down the hall.

It only took one second for him to realise the bed beside him was empty but still warm, and another for his sleep-addled brain to comprehend the meaning of it. He flew out of the bedroom, and knelt next to her as she hunched over the toilet. Though his mind was racing with possibilities, he managed to keep his questions to himself, instead sweeping her hair off the back of her neck and pressing a cool washcloth to the bared skin.

But as soon as she finished, even as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, his queries spilled out. Was she alright, had this happened before, maybe it was the food they’d eaten the night before.

Nav sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment, visibly preparing herself for something. She thrust a hand at ET, and he mutely helped her up. The baggy t-shirt she wore - stolen from his drawer - caught on the lid of the toilet as they stood, pulling taught over her abdomen. Both of them froze instantly.

“I was going to tell you…” Nav trailed off when ET turned his disbelieving gaze on her. “I-we…shit.” She shook her head sadly, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

Still in shock, he gaped at her stomach for a few moments before dropping to his haunches beside her. “You’re…pregnant?”

She nodded wordlessly, fear evident in her eyes as she waited for his reaction. Tears pooled in them when he didn’t say anything else, just continued staring at her.

ET reached out hesitantly towards the bulge now clearly visibly under her shirt, but stopped before he touched it. “May I?”

Her lips curved into a smile and she pulled his outstretched hand to her abdomen, pulling up her shirt to expose bare skin. A matching grin grew on his face as his fingers traced the smooth surface; he’d touched it a hundred times before, but this was a whole new experience.

………

A touch on his shoulder brought him back to the present. He blinked and looked up to see Sally smiling gently. “Thought you might need this,” she offered a cup of coffee, steam still rising from the Styrofoam.

He tried to smile, but settled for a quirk of his lips, “Thanks.”

Taking the coffee from her outstretched hand, he turned his gaze back to Nav and brought the cup to his lips. The moment the bitter liquid slid down his throat, realisation dawned on him. Nav hadn’t been drinking coffee for over five months, and he had never noticed. What kind of boyfriend was he?

“How long have you known?” He didn’t turn his head, but the question was loud enough for Sally to understand the words.

She sat in the chair beside him and took his hand, “ET-Josh. I tried to get her to tell you, I-” He shot her a Look, and she sighed. “Three months. And every time I saw her, I brought it up again. You deserved to know, and she was risking her health to keep it from you, from everyone on the ship.”

“She’s too stubborn for her own good.” He exhaled heavily, turning his gaze back to his girlfriend. “Now everyone knows…and it might not even matter.” Grasping her motionless hand in both of his, he tilted his face into the bed.

Not wanting to intrude on the private moment, Sally stood to leave, but she couldn’t do so before at least attempting to reassure him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Nikki will wake up. You know her; she’ll do it in her own time.”

She waited a moment, but received no response; ET didn’t so much as move a muscle. Casting her gaze over the still form in the bed one last time, Sally noticed that the pattern of Nav’s hospital gown was the same as her own had been when Chloe was born. When she’d been alone in the hospital. It hadn’t been Swain’s fault, and she knew in her heart that he would have preferred to be with her, but in the end it was the nurse holding her hand through the contractions, not her husband.

One glance at ET’s white knuckles told her how lucky Nav was to have a man like him. She’d seen many women - hell, she’d experienced it herself - whose partners put their career before their relationship. From what Nav had told Sally about their relationship, it was ET who had been willing to risk everything and Nav who’d been cautious.

Curly blonde hair blocked her view of Nav’s abdomen, reminding Sally of how Swain had done the same thing during her pregnancy. She smiled ruefully, wishing her friend would wake up and see ET’s dedication for herself.

“Josh…” Wanting to reassure him, Sally tried to take his hand, but he refused to let go of Nav’s. “She will pull through this. You know Nikki would never leave you, not like this.” With this final statement, Sally quietly walked away, turning back at the door for one last look at the forlorn figure hunched over her friend’s bed.

Though he didn’t move, ET was hyper aware of every sound, every movement in the room; listening for a change in the tempo of her breathing, or the lightest contraction of her fingers. He felt a slight pressure against his temple, and his eyes flew open, but didn’t focus on anything. Well, nothing external. He lifted his head, staring at the blanket in wonder as he ran his fingers over the bump it covered. What else had he missed during the past six months?

A grin appeared on his face despite his mood. That was his child. His son or daughter. Resting one hand on her belly, he raised his eyes to Nav’s, only for his face to fall when he saw her closed lids.

It was his one of his few jobs as a father-to-be; he had to keep her safe. And he’d failed.

He squeezed her hand, hard, praying she would wake up and tell him off. But her eyes remained shut despite his hopeful gaze, face peaceful as if she was merely sleeping. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with the pallor of her skin, so different to her normal tan.

The baby kicked again, a tiny knock against his palm, and, out of nowhere, anger welled in his chest. Who was Nav to take all of this away from him? Even Susie had had the decency to tell him about the pregnancy, despite not going through with it.

Pulling his hands away, ET pushed back from the bed. All of a sudden, he couldn’t bear to be in close proximity to her. Without so much as a second glance, he left the room.

…………………