This was previously posted to Uncharted Waters. It was written in 1999 and was my very first Voyage fic. Since UW went bye-bye, I'm reposting here. This introduces my OC, Kate Manning. Admiral Nelson and the characters from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea do not belong to me. I get nothing from this but the fun of giving Harry a love life.


LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE

The dark blue Mercedes 450SL pulled into the circle drive and rolled to a stop in front of the two-car garage. "How about a nightcap?" Dr. Kathleen Manning asked without wanting to look too eager yet hoping the dashing man in the dark Naval uniform would say yes.

Admiral Harriman Nelson started to say something about it being a long drive back to Santa Barbara but a prolonged glance at the beautiful woman next to him and he quickly pushed the thought away. Besides, in thirty-six hours he and the crew of the Seaview were setting sail and although it was to be a relatively short trip, it might take another year before Kate's schedule was compatible with his again. "I'd love one." The admiral shut off the engine and popped open his door.

Kate's discerning eyes followed him as he passed in front of the car and came around to open her door. There was something about a man in uniform she found hard to resist-particularly this man. Kate linked her arm through his. "Did I tell you how handsome you look tonight?" she asked, casting an appreciative eye in his direction while flashing a naturally beguiling smile.

The admiral accepted the compliment rather sheepishly. "I think I'm the one who should be paying out the compliments." He followed her into the house, shutting the door as she switched on two very soft lights. Something big and furry jumped off the sofa and skulked across the floor, vanishing into a pocket of darkness.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll just be a minute," she said, disappearing into what he assumed was the kitchen.

The admiral removed his cap, absentmindedly twirling it in his hand as he perused the living room. It was a dark, rustic, comfortable room, almost masculine with its deep red, bright gold and rich hunter green color accented by oak trim and complimented by a large, stone fireplace and overstuffed sofa and chairs. He liked it immediately, not because of its colors and patterns, but because it was Kate—undeniably feminine yet strong, assertive and intelligent. And somehow this room personified all those traits. His eyes fell upon a simple gold frame resting on a side table. Tossing his cap aside, he picked up the photo, a thoughtful grin playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she entered the room, "I had to feed the animals." Placing her hand on his back, she peered over his shoulder. "You were a Lieutenant Commander then."

Nelson thought back, remembering clearly the day the picture was taken. "I had just been given my first sub command and we were getting ready to sail."

"I had the biggest crush on you," she remembered with a whimsical sigh.

He cocked an eyebrow and passed her a sideways glance. "You think I didn't know?"

She pulled away quickly, a look of mock indignation flooding her green eyes. "And you never did anything about it? I was miserable that whole summer."

"You were barely twenty-one and in your final year at Cal Tech," he retorted. "Your father would've killed me."

She conceded his point, impressed that he remembered. "You know, Dad was always very proud of you. And a little envious."

He carefully replaced the picture. "Envious? Why?"

"Oh, I think Dad always wanted a sub command, something you got when you were a Lieutenant Commander. But the kicker would have been these." She tugged at the four stars on his shirt collar. "To be an admiral at your age is quite an accomplishment. Dad was forty-eight and still a captain when he died. He had a long way to go."

"Your father earned his rank the hard way," he started to say, downplaying his own achievements. "What he accomplished in his short life is nothing to frown at."

"I know. But I still think he was envious. I can only imagine what he'd think now. I mean, admiral at forty-nine, Seaview, the Institute…"

"He'd say," Nelson lowered his voice and boomed out in his best impersonation of Sam Manning, "Harry, what the hell do you mean squandering all your time and money on some convoluted idea!"

Kate laughed at his dead-on imitation of her father. "That's probably what he'd say but you know, he'd have been your biggest supporter."

"Yes, he would have," he agreed.

"How about that drink?" she asked. "Scotch, neat as I recall."

"You recall correctly," he answered, peeling off his jacket and tugging at the knot of his tie. She picked up his cap and took the jacket and tie then disappeared a second time. This time he wandered through the French doors onto the veranda.

The veranda, as he quickly discovered, opened directly onto the beach, the sound of rushing water crashing against rocks, filling the darkness, the light of a nearly full moon reflecting off the water. As he stepped into the warm, sea air something caught his eye. Perched upon the railing and trying its best to look disinterested, sat one of the "animals" Kate had mentioned: a large Burmese cat, its tail swishing back and forth erratically as the cat carefully washed its left paw. The movements were so precise, so gentle that Nelson found himself transfixed by the motion, so much so that he failed to hear Kate's footsteps. The touch of her hand upon his shoulder sent a noticeable shiver up his spine.

"You've met Chester, I see," her voice came as a whisper in his ear.

"Chester?"

She handed him the scotch. "Like the admiral, Nimitz. Bull's around here somewhere. He's the friendly one."

"Bull? Halsey?" He accepted the glass.

"Yup. Harry ran away when I moved out here last year." She raised her own glass to her lips, alluring green eyes almost daring him to look away. "He never did like commitment."

Nelson, meeting her challenge, raised an eyebrow in a curious grin. Slowly, he lowered his glass. "Any similarities..." He took the glass from her hand and placed it with his on a small table.

She moved closer, hips touching, lips mere centimeters apart. "Are purely coincidental."

They met in a prolonged, passionate kiss that ended with Nelson slowly easing away, a short, incredulous laugh escaping as he leaned against the railing.

"That wasn't quite the reaction I expected," Kate responded a little disheartened.

The admiral shook his head as he absently smoothed the hair over his right ear, "Oh, no," he answered uneasily, almost flustered, "it's definitely the reaction you expected." There was something about her, some sensual force she exerted over him that made him powerless against her. He didn't mind really.

Kate smiled seductively, "then I hope I persuaded you to drive back tomorrow morning."

His eyes locked onto hers. "You did," he answered, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her to him.

~oOo~

Kate, nestled in the crook of his arm, absently traced the thick, half moon scar on his shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger. "You know what I said earlier about having a crush on you?"

"Uh, huh," he answered with lazy contentment. He hadn't felt this relaxed in months.

"It wasn't the whole truth."

"It wasn't?"

"Nope. Truth is I still have a crush on you."

"You do?"

"Yup." She propped herself up on one elbow, intense green eyes focused on his.

"I'm flattered." He casually stroked the silky smoothness of her back.

"You should be." Her finger traced the rough dimple in his chin.

"I hope this makes up for making you miserable all those years."

Kate thought a moment. "A half dozen more nights like this and I might call it a draw."

"Only half a dozen?"

"I don't want to press my luck."

He lightly kissed her shoulder, her neck; felt the responsive arch of her back. "Why don't we make it at least a dozen?"

"I don't know. At the rate we're going it'll take us another twelve years to make a dozen." Her voice was light and laced with optimism but he knew what she really meant. And she was absolutely right.

As happy and content as they both were at that moment, each knew it wouldn't last. It never did. Tomorrow, he would drive back to Santa Barbara and Kate would be immersed in her next assignment. Who knew when they could steal another evening together?

Her face clouded over like that of a small child denied a favorite toy. "I hate that this night has to end, I hate that you have to leave tomorrow and I hate that we probably won't see each other for another twelve months."

"Is that all?" he asked with an expectant raise of the eyebrow.

"Well, no but that's all I have at this moment. I'm sure I'll think of more if you give me time."

Nelson brushed an errant strand of dark hair away from her face. "You're feeling pretty negative this evening, aren't you?"

A devilish grin playing at her lips, "Yes. I hate that."

"Maybe we should press our advantage," he replied with a laugh, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer for an involved, eager kiss. Then, slowly pulling the blanket over their heads, they chortled and caroused and made love again.

~oOo~

It was twenty past two in the morning and Kate couldn't sleep. Part of it was the unfamiliarity of having someone in her bed; the other was the unsettled feeling she always had after seeing Harry. Their moments together, fleeting at most, never failed to leave her longing for more. She had isolated herself from any possibility of another suitor and yet she knew they would never really be more than fortuitous lovers. Harry had never tried to deceive her, had never promised her anything more.

From the moment he received the letter informing him that the project had been approved, Seaview and the Institute consumed him, monopolizing his thoughts, his existence. She had unwittingly become an afterthought; an expendable commodity brushed to the back burner of a failing flame, eclipsed by an entity with which she could not compete. It became painfully obvious to Kate that any woman in Harry's life would have to be content with being the other woman, the mistress, something, even after all these years, she still wasn't prepared to embrace.

Afraid her constant shifting would disturb him, she kissed his shoulder lightly then carefully extricated herself from his side, slipping out of the warmth of the bed and into her robe. Drawing the garment up against the chill of the night air, she quietly shuffled her way onto the veranda where the sound of the surf would relax her mind.

Rolling over, running his hand across the warm void, Nelson immediately woke. When after several lingering minutes she didn't return, he fumbled for his trousers and went in search of her, finding her reclining on the chaise, pensively staring beyond the sea. "You okay?" he asked, blue eyes passively searching her face for any signs of unease.

"I couldn't sleep. I was afraid I'd wake you so I came out here." An ironic smile crossed her lips, "Looks like I woke you." Noticing his disheveled appearance, her smile broadened. It only made him more attractive.

Admiral Harriman Nelson wasn't exactly a handsome man. Rugged was the word she would have used. But he definitely possessed an appeal to women. Maybe it was the warm blue eyes that fixed and focused so intently or the commanding way he spoke in a voice as smooth as velvet or the gruff exterior that belied a sensitive inner core. Whatever it was, it had certainly held her attention for more years than she cared to remember.

Sturdily built with a bit of a paunch that confirmed his solid descent into middle age, he was still remarkably fit for a man on the cusp of his fiftieth birthday. As he leaned casually against the railing, her eyes focused on the light carpeting of reddish-brown hair on the tight, muscular chest, the freckles dotting the sinewy shoulders, the compact biceps.

Her eyes drifted, fixed inquisitively on the small, slightly raised, star-shaped scar low on his ribs. She hadn't noticed it before. Her father had carried a similar scar on his abdomen, a little more faded perhaps. A reminder of the horrors of war, he had once told her. Unlike her father's this one was still pink, as if age hadn't a chance to dull it yet. Could it have been recent? She was definitely curious but like the other scars that graced his body, she wouldn't ask.

If he noticed her preoccupation, he didn't let on. "No," he answered, stabbing one hand in his pocket and shaking his head. "I couldn't sleep either."

"I wonder if we were both thinking about the same thing."

Somehow, he doubted it. "That depends," he began, rubbing the back of his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Us, tonight, oh, I don't know…everything."

Her answer disconcerted him. He had expected her to say a complex algorithm or theory, something he knew about, had troubled her. This was heading towards a conversation about relationships—something that actually terrified him. Tiny beads of perspiration laced his upper lip as he shifted nervously. Here he was, Admiral Harriman Nelson, architect of the greatest submarine ever built, founder of the Nelson Institute of Marine Research, a man who in his lifetime had faced perils other men could never imagine, actually paralyzed with fear. He could resolve any number of the world's problems but when it came to relationships, he just didn't have a clue. "Well, uh, what exactly," he stammered, absently stroking the hair above his right ear, "has you, um, troubled?"

Acquiesced to her fate, she sighed heavily, "It'll never progress beyond this."

Feeling a little relieved, "And that's what's bothering you?"

Slowly nodding in the affirmative, she couldn't help but let the pessimism creep into her voice. "Isn't it always? Our entire relationship, if that's what you call it, comes down to stealing an evening…a night…every twelve months or so. It will never be any more than this. I want more of you, Harry, more than just one night a year. I guess it comes back to the same old thing." She shrugged passively, "I don't know."

Mulling over her words, he was silent for a long time. He had known Kate Manning since she was an awkward fifteen-year-old and he was a twenty-eight-year-old Lieutenant. Her father, Sam Manning, had been his first commanding officer and one of his closest friends. Kate had always been a headstrong, independent young woman; characteristics that were probably encouraged having been raised as a Navy brat by a widowed father. Nelson always knew Kate was abnormally fond of him but he generally dismissed it as a schoolgirl crush. He had always thought of Kate as sort of a second little sister. After all, she was closer in age to his own sister, Edith, than she was to him.

He hadn't seen her since her father's funeral. She was nearly 30 then and had just been accepted to the Center for Advanced Research. Nelson had been temporarily assigned to the Center while a series of stress tests were conducted on a new innovation, X-hardened Herculite. He had barely recognized her when she had literally bumped into him in the corridor. Strikingly beautiful with shoulder length dark hair, fierce green eyes framed by long, dark lashes, full, inviting lips and curves in all the right places, she had taken his breath away. Dinner that evening was the beginning of a brief but intense affair ending five months later with the completion of his work at the Center. They had spent a long weekend together that concluded with his abrupt announcement. He had received the letter he was waiting for and the following day he would be on his way to Washington to begin a long bout with the bureaucrats concerning the development of his brainchild, the research submarine Seaview.

In the years that followed, his time became precious, broken engagements became commonplace and the distance between them, conspicuous. Kate hadn't exaggerated. Their entire so-called relationship had come down to a fleeting rendezvous whenever it was convenient. And for the past few years, it just hadn't been convenient. He knew she wanted something more tangible and when it came right down to it so did he. But the pursuit of something more tangible, more substantial, would require sacrifices he just wasn't prepared to make. Kate knew she would always finish a distant second in an imaginary race. Still, it continued to be a running joke between them but he knew the cut went deeper with her.

"Kate," he began, desperately trying to think of something more to say.

Kate smiled resignedly, stopping him before he could start, providing the answer to her own quandary. "Harry, I do love you but," she finished, "we've been down this road before."

"You're right." It was very nearly an audible sigh of relief. He didn't know why he felt so apprehensive. She had always been a very sensible woman.

Watching her now, looking at him with that familiar, amused expression, he realized he had never stopped loving her. Yes, the intensity had lost some of its sheen, dulled by years of neglect, but it had never really died. He had felt it earlier: in the restaurant, in the car, on the veranda and most definitely in the bedroom. Indeed, the intensity had returned with a vengeance.

Motioning for her to lean forward, he slid in behind her. Sitting in tandem on the chaise, she nestled comfortably against him, resting her head against his shoulder, welcoming his arms as they wrapped around her. "Still," she sighed, "I suppose I'd rather have a few fleeting moments with you than not have you at all."

It was the answer he wanted to hear. Nelson smiled contentedly, happy that he had almost inadvertently circumvented the rough water, and kissed the top of her head. Listening to the lull of the sea, lying cozily on the chaise, it didn't take long until both found peaceful sleep.