Chinese Whispers (alternative ending) Sea Patrol

by srkensin

Alternative ending to Chinese Whispers where Diamond Smugglers are rescued from their sinking boat only to injure one crew member and abducts another to return to it to retrieve the diamonds before the boat completely goes down. This begins at about that point. You will need to know the episode to understand the setting of the story.

So, I wrote this first before Demons and Friends. It was to be posted first but I was never really satisfied. Still make faces at some places but I've come to the conclusion that after all this time, it will just have to be what it is. Demons and friends sequel has been started but writers block is strong with this one.

Chinese Whispers an alternate ending.

I liked this episode but there were some details that didn't sit well. So I changed the ending a little….okay….i changed it a lot. This alternative ending picks up when Jake takes Swain into the hold to leave him while the diamond smugglers escape.

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. I don't personally know anyone else who watches the show, so it was not beta read before being posted by anyone other than myself. Apologies for any typos and the many sentences that end in prepositional phrases or dangling something or others. 😎

Sorry, Swaino, your day just got worse.

############

"Mate, what are you doing? This boat is going down fast, I'll drown here."

Jake wrapped the thick rope tight. "You heard the boss."

"Mate, my baby. You saw the ultrasound. Do you really want my kid to be an orphan? Grow up without a father? Do you really want that on your conscious?"

There was hesitation. "What do you expect me to do?

"Well, at least tie the knot loosely so I can get out of here once you guys are gone." Swain dared to hope when Jake actually seemed to be considering his words. "Mate, it's no skin off our nose, Horst will never know." Jake came around to stand in front of him.

Jake shook his head. "I can't. He's the boss. He'll kill me if he found out. I've got to think about my own family."

"Come on, let's go!" From above, the announcement signaled that time was up.

"Jake, please!" Swain's heart pounded.

"I'm sorry." With lightning speed, Jake's fist shot out, connecting with Swains face, causing his head to bounce solidly off the metal pole. He watched Swain drop part way down the pole, his bound hands the only thing keeping him from sliding under the rising water. "Maybe you'll not wake up." He hastily sloshed to the hatch and went through without a look back. With the closing of the door, all light was extinguished and the room went to pitch black.

############

Small, rolling waves lapped delicately at the fiberglass sides of the enclosed lower level. A calm rocking, disturbed only by the creaking of overly stressed joints that grew in frequency as the water level inside worked to equalize with that on the outside. A wayward slap of salt water across the face jolted the peaceful darkness where Swain was floating. The pain was instantaneous. His first instinct was an attempt to return to the warm comfort on unconscious, but the next breath he took resulted in a desperate reaction to breathe. Simultaneously, his eyes snapped open and he coughed violently, trying to clear his lungs and resisted the urge to draw another breath. With extreme effort, he lifted his face from the water, allowing him to suck up the needed oxygen and get his bearing. Once he got his breath, it took a long minute to remember where he was and how he got there. His next efforts were trying to stop struggling at the ropes around his wrists long enough to calm himself so he could think.

He closed his eyes. Even in the darkness of the hold, closing them brought some comfort to his throbbing head. That's definitely a concussion. Moses composed, he stood straighter against the pole and his hands blindly went about working at the rope, praying for a purchase that would loosen them. Twice he had to stop when the pressure in his head threatened to drive him back to unconsciousness. The second time he'd considered going with it. It would be so much easier than being awake when the end came, but he knew he couldn't do that. He'd fight to that end. For Sally and the baby. Even if there had been no familial motivation, he wasn't a quitter. Every moment he breathed was a moment he could be rescued or get loose. As few as those moments might be. The water was brushing at his chin now and his forced calm suddenly turned to panic when he just couldn't get the rope undone. "Come on! Please!" He pulled at the stubborn rope in anguish, the fibers tearing skin before he slumped against the rusty pole. I'm going to die. I'm never going to see my child. Sally is going to get that visit. Tears of despair mixed with the water and blood that trickled down his face from the gash along his brow. "No!" He cried as he felt the water bounce against his chin. He spit out a mouth full and began working at the ropes again, leaning his head away, toward the air at the ceiling.

Breathe. Stay calm. I'm going to die! No! Stay calm. Breathe. Only that was getting harder. His head pounded and he worked himself up the pole to stay in the air pocket that was getting smaller with each desperate breath. "Come on!" He sobbed, fingers still working. He pushed up again, pulling hard, at the limits of the pole. His face turned upward as he leveraged for more purchase. "No! Oh my..." A rolling wave slapped him and he inhaled, but instead of air, he pulled in water. He bucked involuntarily at the intrusion, his lungs and then head exploding under the pressure, threatening another attempt at breath. It took every once of will to resist when his lungs wanted desperately to fill again and he frantically stretched for the elusive air pocket. Still holding to some thread of rationale, his eyes opened wide to search for the surface in the dark, knowing that it was useless. No! He put every once of strength twisting against the rope, causing his wrists to tear more. The pain in his head drove higher, tempered only by the adrenaline coursing through him. No! No! With a final, nearly joint dislocating jerk against the bonds, terror overrode. He thrashed senselessly, unable stop the sharp intake...or the next. Suddenly, not even water was bought in, as his body instinctively shut down his airway to protect itself. The struggle slowed and he whimsically noticed that the head pain was subsiding, but a calmness overrode the meaning. Please. I don't...pl...

"Come on. Come on in. Ah, the water's lovely."

The dark lifted and he was on a beach. Confused, he watched his wife playfully wade through the water while he stood uncertainly on the sand. He looked around curiously when the sound of a motor in the distance was carried on the wind.

"Don't be scared. It's fine". She waved him over to her.

All fear left him and he moved toward her, uncaring when the water engulfed him. Then she was under the water with him. "Come on." The beautiful vision reached for him and he didn't hesitate to take her hand.

############

The boarding party bounced across the waves to the deserted, sinking boat, careening to a stop next to it. They secured the lines and silently embarked onto the deck, quickly spreading out. Spider and ET took the deck, while Buffer and the XO slowly rounded the center wheelhouse of the boat to the door that led to the deck below and cautiously disappeared into the dim interior.

"Swain!" Buffer lead the way to the top of the stair well, looking down at the flooded deck below. "That door was open before." He jumped without hesitation into the water and began pulling at the hatch. "Come on!" He growled, putting every once of strength into his efforts.

The door slowly pulled open, the water equalizing and reaching the top of the hatch. "Swain!" He pulled out his torch and dove into the dark.

It took a long moment for Buffer to acclimate to the murky beam that cut through the water, but when he did, the sight of blurry hands tethered to a corroded pole almost made him loose his oxygen supply. He pushed to them, grabbing and willing them to move, fearing the worse when he got no response. His hands shook as he proceeded to fumble for his knife, almost dropping it. He painstakingly sawed through the thick, soggy rope, careful of the torn wrists that turned the surrounding water an auburn hue. As the last of the fibers released, he held to Swain hands when the still body began floating upward. He followed it into the small air pocket above, gasping deeply to fill his taxed lungs.

He clipped the torch to his vest and held Swain up when he was about to go back under. "Come on! Breathe!" He shook his friend, willing him to consciousness. "Come on!" The torch from under the water cast a dim, eerie glow in the small space, but that didn't mask the obvious dusky tinge to Swain's features. Buffer refused to accepted that they were too late, even with the evidence right in front of him. This was not happening! The water wasn't that high out of Swain's reach...maybe it hadn't been that long.

He reached around and felt for a carotid pulse, pushing hard, searching with cold fingers. Please! This time his plead was answered with what he thought was a slow, shallow pulse. He held his breath and checked again. There it was, he was sure. He quickly evaluated their limited space. There just wasn't room to do anything.

It was then that the XO's head broke the water. She took in the situation in an instant. "Buffer?"

"I found a pulse, but he's not breathing. We can't do anything here." With that he grabbed Swain, pushed off the ceiling and bolted toward the hatch. He pulled himself through, struggling hard against the drag of the water. His burden was propelled from behind by the XO and the three emerged on the other side.

They pulled Swain over toward the steep stairs until they could get their footing. Buffer tilted Swain's head back to start rescue breathing. "Sorry, mate." He pinched Swain's nose, locked lips and blew, praying that Swain would eventually get the chance to bust on him. He took another breath when it met with resistance and tried again with the same success.

"Shit!" He quickly checked for a pulse again. Still there, but so weak he wondered if it was just his imagination.

"What?" XO was keeping Swain from floating away while Buffer tried to revive him.

"He's shut off!" He pinched Swain's nose again. "Come on!" He took a breath and pushed a steady growing pressure. Then he was through and he almost smiled at the triumph...if only he didn't know that the reason he was able to get past the block was because Swain's body had stopped protecting itself. "Okay." He continued to breathe, satisfied that Swain was finally getting some much needed, even if limited, oxygen.

After a few more breaths, he became aware that he and the XO weren't alone. Spider and ET were on the ladder above them. He stopped rescue breathing for a moment and checked the pulse. Still there and he thought, maybe, a little stronger, but there were still no spontaneous breaths. "Damn." He started breathing again but had to stop when there was a spasm. Water and vomit began to bubble up. "Turn him!"

The XO helped Buffer roll him to his side. When the spasms stopped, they turned him back. Buffer pushed back any feelings disgust, and began breathing again, his hope of his friend pulling through this deteriorated with every breath. What if it was just too long? Even if they got him breathing again, there was a very good chance of brain damage. He began to wonder if this is what Swain would be wanting him to do.

His thoughts were cut short when there was a shallow, wet, intake of breath. Even with his unsure thoughts, he was encouraged. He spit into the water and wiped at his mouth. "There's the ticket! That's right, mate. Now, breathe!" His hopes dropped again when he was rewarded with silence. He looked at his crew mates expectantly, and leaned over to start again, half wishing for someone to stop him.

He pinched Swain's nose but as he took a breath, he heard another slow intake. He leaned back, while the others moved in closer, all waiting, holding their own breaths. They dared breathe again, when a third, stronger breath joined them.

On the fourth and fifth one, Spider and ET whooped and jumped into the water next to the XO and Buffer. "Good job, Buffer." Spider patted him on the back and took a position to help carry Swain up the stairs.

"I guess we'll see." Buffer didn't make eye contact with Spider's confused look.

############

Once everyone was secured, the boat took off at neck breaking speed toward the warship. "ET, try not to get us killed." The XO admonished. "We can't help Swain if we don't make it back to the ship."

"Yes mam." ET slowed the boat to a safer speed.

############

There was going to be no shortage of help getting their crewmate from the RHIB and onto the waiting stretcher.

"Is there anyone manning the ship?" The XO observed as they pulled up and saw the deck held a few more crew than usual.

Spider shimmied past her to grab a line. "It's Swain.", he offered as if it were an explanation.

Flynn was also on deck and waited until the RHIB was empty before addressing his XO. The only report he'd been given was that they had found Swain and he needed medical attention. "What happened?"

A stormy Buffer answered for her. "Bastards tied him in the lower hold and left him to drown. Had to get him breathing again. When I get my hands on them, their gonna..."

"Buffer?" The XO stopped him. "Let's just worry about Swain right now."

"Yes, ma'am." He turned away and knelt next to the stretcher.

The CO understood Buffer's anger. "Chefo, keep me informed. X, let's get those guys." He didn't wait for any acknowledgement before turning for the bridge.

############

Chefo shifted from one foot to another, mentally preparing for his next patient. While he was trained as a medic, it wasn't his main job. Swain was the lead, the one with the most experience. Chefo was there to assist if needed. Right now he was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Once the initial shock of the shooting was over, Harry's condition was pretty straight forward. The bullet missed any major arteries. After cleaning the wound and controlling the bleeding, Harry was now in his bunk, loaded on morphine and antibiotics, with a watch on him in case he needed anything between checks.

Chefo's anxiety grew as he watched them get their unconscious lead medic to the deck. He took a calming breath and hurried forward, listening to Buffer's angry report to their CO as he got his first close up look at his patient. "How long was he without air?" He asked Buffer, who came to kneel next to them.

"I wish I knew. The air pocket wasn't too far out of reach, but his airway was shut off. Just kept trying until it relaxed." He shook his head. "Maybe too long." They shared a look of understanding. "He threw up some when we were getting him breathing, then again in the RHIB. Got him turned over pretty fast, can't say if he breathed in anything."

Chefo nodded and stood. "Let's get him inside." Spider and ET each took an end of the stretcher and led the way off the deck. "Has he woken up at all since you found him?"

Buffer shook his head. "No. Not that I saw...but his color is better."

The small corridors had them walking single file to the break room where the four got Swain off the stretcher and onto the now padded, makeshift exam table. ET excused himself and disappeared out the door leaving Spider and Buffer to help Chefo.

"Spider, could you set up while I get some vitals on him?"

"Sure, Chefo." Spider went to the cupboards. He'd watched Swain enough to know what would be needed.

Chefo was relieved to hear the breathing from the table but even his limited experience told him it wasn't right. He undid the soggy overalls, then took a scissors and cut up the front of the t-shirt. He listened to Swain's lungs, wincing at the congestion. His next cut went up the sleeve so he could get a blood pressure.

Once finished with the pressure, he probed the swollen cut over the left eye, shaking his head. It was at that moment he noticed a minute change in Swain's appearance, then a spasm. "Get a basin!" He ordered Buffer while pulling the oxygen mask away from Swain's face. Spider jumped in and helped Chefo turn their friend, just in time for Buffer to get into place before the vomiting began. It seemed to last forever. By the time the heaving ended, they were all shaken and Spider looked like he wanted to bolt out the door.

Buffer had pulled on a neutral, tight lipped, mask and he lowered the near empty basin. "Do you think he's done?"

"I hope so". Chefo wiped Swain's face with a damp towel and tenderly moved his hand to the the back of Swain's head. He stopped. "What is this?" He inspected more closely to see what he'd felt.

"What?" Spider came in closer.

"It's a lump. A big one, too." He felt around gingerly. "Someone hit him pretty hard."

"Could that be why he hasn't woken up yet?" Spider stood back after feeling the lump for himself.

"I don't know." Chefo wasn't sure which would be the worse scenario. "Put some extra padding under his head and let's roll him back."

They'd just returned him to his back and Chefo replaced the oxygen mask, when RO came in. "The base medic is on the comm."

"Oh, good. Thank you, RO." Chefo indicated Spider and Buffer. "Can you two get him out of those wet clothes and dried off while I talk to base?" He placed the headset and moved to the far end of the small room to give the others some room to work. As RO left and shut the door, Chefo noticed a few other crewmates waiting in the hallway for information. He couldn't help but smile a little. Swain would be embarrassed to know he was the object of so much attention.

The hallway was empty when the door later opened and the CO and XO entered. They gave Buffer a tight-lipped nod. He returned it, with the most amount of defiance he could get away without being insubordinate.

After they had nearly run over the two diamond smugglers that had been dumped into the ocean, they had quickly found the sinking RHIB with a frustrated and angry During the questioning of the men, however, Buffer had lost his temper and had been ordered, in terms that allowed for no misinterpretation, that he was to stay away from the prisoners. So until he was needed somewhere, he opted to plant himself next to his friend.

"How's he doing?" The CO asked Chefo who was getting another set of vitals. They'd checked on his condition over the radio while they were tracking down the guys who'd done this to their Coxswain but this was the first chance they'd had to come down and see for themselves.

Chefo shrugged. "His vital signs are mostly stable right now but the base medic is concerned that he hasn't woken up. We still don't know if it's from the lack of oxygen or the head injury. He's definitely got a concussion. He's also starting to run a fever. His lungs are congested. He really needs to be in hospital."

The CO sighed. "They're trying to free up a medivac to meet up with us, but it's still going to take a while. Are you doing okay?"

Chefo nodded but the stress was obvious on his face.

The CO nodded back, reaching for the door. "Let me know if there's any change."

"Yes, Sir."

The room was quiet for a long moment after the captain left, except for the raspy breathing under the oxygen mask.

The XO shifted her attention to Buffer. "We finished questioning the smugglers." The look she gave Buffer wasn't lost on him. There was a reprimand in his future. "Jake confessed to leaving Swain in the hold. He said he feared for his family if he didn't do what he was told."

Buffer scoffed in disgust, shaking his head.

She glanced at Chefo but continued to brief Buffer. "He also claims that he knocked Swain out before he left. Didn't want him to suffer."

Chefo straightened. "That explains the head injury."

"Guess it didn't work." They both turned their full attention to Buffer. "If he'd been out, he would have been gone before we even boarded the boat. He was awake. He was pushed up that pole has high as he could get." He glanced over at Swain, not really wanting to imagine the terror his mate had gone through in that dark hold.

############

Thought came back slowly. It wasn't even cognitive thought, just an awareness. Pleasant, warm, safe. Breathing. He could hear...white noise. A mechanical humming. He attempted a deeper breath and an icy chill rolled across his skin.

"Swain?"

Sally? She never called him that unless she was teasing him about something navy related. Where did she go? She'd just taken his hand. He carefully forced his eyes open and attempted to look around. The brightness made him squeeze them closed, but that didn't stop the pain from intensifying. It flared through his head then traveled down his spine, spreading outward. Breathing became impossible, but the pain was too encompassing for him to care. Then as fast as it came on, the pain evaporated and the over-rated awareness released him back into blissful darkness.

############

Buffer lifted his head off his folded arms and looked around. He thought he had heard something, but he'd been dozing. He shrugged and was about to lay his head back down when he noticed the smallest movement. He stood and looked closely at Swain, watching for what had caught his attention. He observed eyes moving behind closed lids and the creased brows. He quickly exited the room and looked up and down the hall for Chefo, who had gone to check on Harry.

He was thinking that he would have to call the bridge and have him paged when Chefo turned into the hall. "Something's happening, mate." He then led the way back to the table.

Chefo saw what he was talking about right away, but really didn't know what to make of it.

"Is he waking up?" The hope in Buffer's question was contagious.

"I don't know." He leaned in closer and put a hand on Swain's forehead. "He's gotten warmer." He reached for the thermometer.

"Chefo." Buffer leaned in closer.

They both watched as bloodshot eyes peeled open a fraction. "Hey..Swain..." Chefo put on his best bedside grin, but in an instant their hope was shattered when the eyes slammed tight. Swain's head pushed back into the pillow and tremors took over his body. "He's seizing!" He looked around frantically trying to recall what to do. When the pillow cushioning Swain's head slid off the table, Chefo reached in to keep his patients head from hitting on the harder surface. The table was padded some, but it was still a table. "Hold on to him! Don't restrict him, but keep him from hurting himself!"

Buffer hesitated, not knowing where exactly to hold onto the taunt body.

"Let's turn him. I don't know if this might expel anything and it'll keep his head from hitting the table."

Buffer nodded, he'd seen Chefo's hands get mashed a couple times already trying to protect Swain's head. He pulled Swain toward himself in almost a sideways hug-like fashion, feeling the unnatural body heat and the tight muscles contract under his hands. He kept both hands on Swain's back, one arm under his head to help Chefo control it. "Come on, mate! Relax."

He sighed in relief when, after a few more twitches, the muscles went completely limp.

Chefo sighed, picked the pillow up from the floor and positioned it under Swain's head as Buffer eased him back.

Buffer looked up alarmed. "I don't think he's breathing."

"Give it a few seconds. That's not unusual after such a seizure." They both nervously waited, when finally a breath was drawn, then another. "Okay." Chefo sighed, relieved that he'd not panicked. He checked the IV line to make sure that it hadn't been compromised, then replaced the oxygen mask which had become dislodged, turning up the flow. He took a temperature and his frown grew. He showed it to Buffer and angrily tossed the thermometer onto the counter.

"Go update the Captain, then take a break." Buffer instructed.

Chefo shook his head, and picked up the comm. "I should stay here in case he..."

"He'll be okay for a few minutes. I'll watch him." Buffer held open the door. "Just go."

Chef slowly replaced the handset, nodded his thanks and left the room.

Buffer watched their medic quickstep it up the hallway until he was out if sight.

He closed the door and sagged against the sink, rubbing a hand over his stubby hair. Truth be told, he needed a moment also. He waffled between worry for his mate and anger over what those smugglers had done. Right now he wanted to barge into Austere's and beat every one of them into the deck. He was about to take his anger out on a defenseless cupboard when the door opened.

"Chefo?" The XO leaned in and scanned the room. "Buffer? Where's Chefo?

He straightened and began digging around in the cupboards he'd just had his focus on for other purposes. "He needed a break, so I had him go update the captain." He nodded toward the table. "He's gotten worse. Fever's up, and just had a seizure." He found the ice packs. "Could you watch him for a minute while I fill these with ice?"

"Sure." She was still processing what Buffer had told her as he strode out the door heading to the galley. She slowly moved to stand over Swain and laid a hand on his arm, almost pulling back from the warmth. Taking a quick look around, she found a wash cloth and basin. She filled the basin with cool water, set it on a chair next to the table and, being mindful of the oxygen mask and IV line, began to wipe down the overly heated skin. This was so unnecessary. How could they do this? Just leave him to drown like that? She was lost in her thoughts and looked up self-consciously when Buffer came back with the packs. "I...um...just wanted to...um..."

Buffer gave her a small, understanding smile. "No explanations needed, Ma'am. It's Swain."

The XO gave a smile back of her own. "That's the second time today someone's said that."

Buffer shrugged and placed a pack into an armpit. "He wouldn't hesitate if rules were reversed, ma'am. Not for anyone on this crew." He moved around and placed a second pack. "He's there when they get poisoned, shot, stabbed, any injury the bad guys throw at us. It breeds a connection in most. " He juggled the third bag. "Hell, he probably knows more about this crew than most of their families."

The XO smiled. "That's quite an accolade."

Buffer smiled. "Maybe. Nothing he'll ever hear from me, though." He held the ice bag gingerly and leaned close. "This is for every time you took my smokes, every stitch that you were too impatient to numb." He lifted the cover. "And that time you passed me the flu the day before my big date with Heather." He none to gently shoved the pack into Swain's groin before dropping down into his chair somewhat disappointed that even a cold ice pack to the boys didn't illicit some reaction.

############

The pain was back. He wondered why he couldn't just stay floating in the quiet warmth, blissfully painless. Why was he being tormented? It wasn't just the pain in his head this time. It was the biting cold that was moving over him. It slid over his face, arms and chest. It would move from one area to another. No sooner did the skin warm again, then the torment was back. He could hear quiet voices through the fog. Please, stop! So cold. Am I not covered? Then suddenly something was shoved first under one arm pit, than the other. Ahhhh! No, no! Please, stop! The cold was excruciating. He couldn't understand why they couldn't see that they were hurting him? Maybe they were trying to do just that. A vague memory of being alone in the dark, then struggling to breath filtered into thought. Those memories fled when pain shot though him again, only this time it slammed into his groin. Bastards! He felt the fog move in closer and mentally sighed in relief when it closed in completely again.

############

When Chefo returned, he appeared much more calm. "XO?"

The XO looked up from wiping a newly chilled cloth over Swain's skin. "Chefo. Just stopped by to see how he was doing." Even though she knew that she didn't have to, she still felt the need to explain being there.

If Chefo thought it was odd having the XO helping cool down one of her officers, he didn't let it show. "I'm sure Swain would appreciate it, Ma'am." He picked up a stethoscope and listened to Swain's lungs for a minute, then got a blood pressure and checked his oxygen levels, frowning the whole time. "RO's getting the fleet medic back on line. Navcom says that they were finally able to free up a chopper. It needs to get back to refuel first, but at least it's coming." He pulled out a light to check Swain's pupils for any change.

"I put placed some ice packs." Buffer informed him. "Hopefully it will help with the fever."

"Thanks, mate." Chefo clicked his light off, then paused. He leaned closer. His fingers brushed over Swain's temple and felt a wetness running down into the hairline. "Has he shown any signs of regaining consciousness?"

Buffer and the XO exchanged looks, both denying noticing any change. "We would have told you if we saw anything." Buffer let him know.

Chefo leaned again. "Swain? Swain. Can you hear me? Come on, Swain. Can you open your eyes?" He glanced around at the others when Swain's lids moved, then relaxed again. "I think he can hear me."

Buffer leaned in from the other side, right by Swain's ear, and before anyone knew what was coming..."Come on, Swaino! Wakey, wakey!"

############

The fog was moving away again, returning the pain. It was still bad but at least the cold had stopped being rubbed over his skin and his arm pits and groin were completely numb, so count that as a small blessing. He could hear talking again in the distance and then felt the lightest of touches on a temple. Finally, something nice. He tried to move toward the touch. They wanted something, but the growing list of aches and pains that were presenting themselves were more than he wanted to face right then. With some effort, he willed the fog to come back and had almost succeeded until a blast of sound forced its way through, completely shattering any peaceful exit. With a startled gasp that set his chest burning and his head pounding, his eyes flew open. The light was blinding and hit the back of his retinas like an ice pick. They just as quickly shut. He turned away from the direction the sound had come from, hearing loud arguing over the top him. He groaned in agony wishing they would shut up. It took everything he had to push back the now overwhelming urge to throw up.

############

Chefo gasped much in the same way as his patient. When Swain's eyes shot open, then immediately squeezed shut, the pain was obvious from the way his head slightly turned and his face contorted under the oxygen mask. "Buffer, mate, that probably wasn't the smartest thing to do."

The XO wasn't so kind. "Buffer! That was completely unacceptable! You can't just do that!"

Buffer ignored them. "Swaino." He was rewarded with a quiet groan that silenced the berating. "That's right, come on."

When it looked like nothing was going to happen, both Buffer and the XO leaned in at the same time to offer more encouragement, but when she glared at him, he backed away with his hands in the air.

The XO placed a cool hand on the too warm forehead. "Swain?" Another soft groan and a slight move of his head toward her hand, brought a small smile to her lips. "That's good. Now can you open your eyes again for me? Slowly, this time?" She held her other hand above his eyes to help block out some of the light. "You can do it. Come on. You're safe, now."

Safe? Did something happen? Is that why it hurts so much? He took another, slower, breath. It hurt but not like it had a moment ago, and most of his concentration was focused on the nausea. Please, no. If I puke, I'll die. Just thinking made his head pound harder, but he had to know what was going on and if anyone else was injured. He tested by opening his eyes just a fraction. It was uncomfortable but encouraging, so he tried a little more at a time, stopping when the XO moved down into his line of sight.

"There he is. Hey." She moved back little, keeping her hand in place and was pleased to see that he was tracking her.

Chefo moved in closer. "Hey, Swain, welcome back." He smiled when Swain slowly closed, then opened his eyes. "Do you remember what happened, mate?" His only reply was a blank stare. "That's okay. Are you in pain?" There was an attempt at a nod but it stopped and was replaced with another blink. "Your head?" Another blink. "Anywhere else." Blink. "Let me know when I get to where it hurts." It didn't take more than a moment for him to blink when Chefo touched his chest. "There?" Blink. He pushed on his ribs. There was no bruising but that didn't mean there wasn't damage. When Swain showed no indication that he was causing more pain, he pulled his hand away. "Is the pain when you breathe?" Blink. "Okay, is there anywhere else?" There was a small shake of his head, which caused him to squeeze his eyes shut to ride out a wave of pain, and from the way he was panting, Chefo suspected, not a little bit of nausea.

"C...Col..." An uncontrolled tremor cut off the attempt to speak. Another tear rolled down his temple.

"You'll be okay, mate. Your fever's really high and, from the size of the knot on the back if your head, you've got a pretty significant concussion. We're going to get you to hospital and they're going to fix you good as new." He gave Swain's arm a pat, but got the impression that there was something else. "What is it?"

"Wha..." Chefo lifted the oxygen mask as Swain's eyes opened just enough to peek out at him. "Wha...happ..."

Chefo glanced uncomfortably at his XO and Buffer before answering. "You almost drowned in a sinking boat...and got a good knock on the head in the process."

"Any...one...else?" He eyes closed when another shiver began but Chefo knew he was waiting for an answer.

"Well, Harry was shot in the leg, but he's going to be okay. Do you remember that?"

There was a long pause, then a quiet..."no".

There was a tap at the door and RO came inside, closing the door behind him. He acknowledged the XO and Buffer but spoke to Chefo. "Fleet medical is on the line."

He nodded to RO, reseating the oxygen mask. "It's okay. Relax for now." He watched Swain close his eyes then took the headset RO handed to him and stepped to the other side of the room.

"How is he?" RO seemed hesitant when he got close.

Buffer shook his head. "He needs to be in hospital."

The XO lowered her hand and gave Buffer the wet cloth she'd been using. "Keep cooling him off, I'll be on the bridge."

"Ma'am? Do you think we can find a table lamp or something?" He waved at the overhead lights.

She nodded on her way out. "I'll get someone on it."

RO frowned. "Is he...?" He didn't finish, but stood there in shock when Swain suddenly moved and tried to roll.

"Whoa!" Buffer quickly grabbed the puke bucket and helped Swain finish turning to the edge of the table. He held on to keep him from rolling too far. "It's okay, I got ya, mate."

Chefo was back next to them. "Hold on, control." He assessed the situation. When he was sure that his patient wasn't seizing again and that Buffer had things under control, he turned away. "He's vomiting again...yes."

Buffer picked up the wet rag and tossed it to RO, "Cool that off."

RO finally moved, wetting the rag and held it toward Buffer. Buffer looked at the rag then glared at RO. RO frowned, sighed and hesitantly put the rag against the back of Swain's neck, feeling the heat quickly warm it. He turned away when the coolness caused Swain to flinch. It was obvious that RO was uncomfortable by the way he looked around the room. He awkwardly repeated the procedure, blocking out the whine of discomfort between the contractions.

Finally, the heaving stopped and only an occasional moan gave any indication that Swain was awake. Buffer spoke quietly to him, but there was no attempt to lay him back.

Chefo came back over with a syringe and injected the fluid into the IV. "I can't give him anything to mask the head injury symptoms, but control thinks that the fever is his body trying to deal with the drowning. Hopefully, this will help with that." He threw the empty syringe in a container and smirked at RO who stiffly cooled the rag again. "How ya doing there, mate?" RO was not the touchy type, and Chefo felt a little comic relief watching his shipmate squirm.

"Peachy."

Chefo and Buffer shared a smile at the sarcasm.

Chefo shook his head. "I can take that if you have something else to do."

RO didn't hesitate. "Yes, I actually do. Thank you." He nearly tossed Chefo the rag and opened the door but didn't leave right away. "Chefo What can I tell the crew? It's natural their curious."

Chefo looked down at Swain uncertainly, all humor put aside. "I can't really say for sure, I'm not a doctor, but he's alive. He's got a high fever and he's hurting, but he woke up and responded to us. That's a good sign. Tell them, I think he's doing as well as expected for what he went through."

RO nodded and left, blocking the way when Charge and Spider started to enter. "He's really not up for visitors, Charge."

Charge held up a lamp. "Ordered from the X."

RO glared at Spider. "Takes two of you to bring a lamp?"

Spider gestured to the object Charge held. "It's my lamp."

RO looked closer at the large breasted, bikini clad shape under the shade. "Of course, it is."

############

Buffer sighed when the most recent round of dry heaving finally stopped. He watched as Chefo got up to get some more cold water. The fever they'd been fighting had come down to a more comfortable level. They had removed the ice packs and at this point a cold rag on his forehead and neck were their cooling measures. He leaned in close. "Are you done?" When there was a lack of response, he gave Swain a shake.

"Uh?"

"I asked you if you were done."

There was a pause, then a small shake of the head, followed by an unsure nod and a breathy..."...think so."

Buffer put down the empty basin. "Sure you are." He eased his friend back gently, mindful of the back of his head. "Okay?"

Swain gave a small nod, then slowly reached up and felt at the nasal canula that replaced the oxygen mask. His oxygen levels were mostly stable for now and it was easier to understand him when he tried to communicate. "Wha...happ..."

Buffer inhaled but bit back a sigh. He chastised himself for getting too optimistic when Swain had woke up and appeared not the worse for wear. This was the fourth time that he'd asked the same question. The second had been when Charge and Spider had come in with the lamp. Buffer had just him laid back on the table when Spider was asked the redundant question. Spider had stuttered and given a short edited version when he saw Chefo and Buffer's concerned reactions.

Buffer looked to the other side of the darkened room at Chefo's frown. "You got a knock to your head, mate...but you're going to be fine." He gave Swain another shake when he saw the features start to relax too much. "Stay awake, Swaino. Can't let you sleep yet." Again, Swain was slow to respond. Buffer raised his voice. "Oi'! No sleeping!"

Swain's startled moan of displeasure was once again covered by Chefo's calm rebuttal. "Mate, really, you can't be doing that."

Buffer snorted. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Buffer..."

A painful snort came from the table. "...tell...im.. Chef..." A touch of a smile lightened the mood of the room.

Chefo smiled but Buffer leaned back and crossed his arms as if offended. "Well, isn't that gratitude. Sit by your sorry arse all this time and that's the thanks I get. Some mate you are."

############

Spider knocked on the door of the temporary infirmary, before peeking his head inside. "Chefo?"

"Is it here? Chefo wiped a weary hand over his face and stood up from his chair. Having two patients to tend had worn him down. Harry was getting along fine, but Swain's temperature had continued to be a challenge. The fever had begun climbing again, regardless of the efforts to keep it down. For his part, Swain appeared to give occasional signs that he was aware of his surroundings but as the fever grew, so did his apathy. Even Buffer's unacceptable outbursts had slowly lost their effect, at which point Chefo kicked Buffer out of the room. His nerves were shot and it appeared that he was the one doing most of the reacting. The last time Buffer had tried to get a response, Chefo had knocked over the water. That's when he told Buffer to take a walk. Of course, Buffer had protested, but as temporary lead medical, Chefo outranked him in this case.

"It should be landing inside of fifteen minutes." He came in the rest of the way. "How is he?"

"Not good. His vitals are getting progressively more erratic. He's not responding any more. Medical thinks there might be a bleed in his brain. We don't have anything stronger for the fever. The only positive is that he's not had anymore seizures. I just don't know what else to do." He leaned heavily against the counter.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You've been doing everything you can. Even Swain couldn't have done any more with what we have."

He bowed his head. "Maybe, but still..."

"Hey. You did good. No matter what happens. Remember that. This is not your fault."

Chefo eventually nodded. "I guess. Thanks, mate."

Spider slapped his shoulder. "Only tell it like it is."

Chefo nodded. "Could you go find Buffer? Then come back and help get him packaged up?"

"Sure." He shut the door, leaving Chefo alone again.

Chefo checked the vitals one more time, frowning. They hadn't changed much since the last time, but it had been a while since they were where he wanted them. "Come on, mate You're almost there. Just hold on a little while longer."

############

Hands were touching him, moving him. Jostling out him out of the fog that he'd come to appreciate so much. They were all around, or he would have tried turning away. His head pounded worse than it had since...since when? Breathing was...odd. Like being smothered but he felt a steady, cool breeze. What was happening? He groaned at the discomfort, not caring what the voices over him were saying, only relieved when they finally stopped bouncing him. It allowed him to relax again and embrace the dark.

############

Bouncing again...and waves. There was more drone of voices, but above it all was the distinct slapping of water. The head pain spiked from the brightness that filtered through his lids. Am I outside? What happened? He pulled in the odd air to help ride out the pain, why was it so hard to do that. His chest felt heavy. Then it was back...his friend, the dark.

############

"He's waking up." The fog slowly dissipated and with some effort, he opened his eyes. People stared down at him. Four of them to be exact. He squinted a little at the overhead lights that haloed from behind and over them. A dark haired, middle aged, woman smiled down at him. "Chris? I'm Doctor Hutchins. You're in hospital emergency room." He startled when alarms began blaring next to them. When he moved, something pulled in his throat and he suddenly couldn't breath. Hands gentle held him down. "Chris, calm down. It's okay. You have a serious head injury and you stopped breathing so you're intubated. Calm down and try not to fight it." Pushing back every instinct of panic, he struggled to calm himself and tentatively let the machine fill his lungs. The many restraining hands cautiously released him but they didn't go far. Why? What happened. He closed his eyes and searched his memory for a clue but came up empty.

When he opened them again, he was in a different room. It was mercifully darkened and quiet, except for the steady, hypnotic beeping of a heart monitor over his head. He focused more and could hear the normal hushed noises of the nursing staff through the partially open door. Hospital? What am I doing in the hospital? He felt the tell-tale blast of dry air from an oxygen mask on his face and lifted a heavy right hand up to remove it.

"Chris?"

He felt a squeeze to his left arm, then an angel moved into his line if sight. "Sally." The single, barely audible, word caused him to cough.

"You're awake." Tears filled her reddened eyes. Her hand caressed his face. "I was so afraid." She was outright crying now as she leaned over him, hugging him the best she could.

He weakly embraced her back, not really understanding what was going on, but it was obvious whatever had put him here must have been serious enough to scare her. "Shhhhh." He closed his eyes.

"Chris? Honey?" Sally pulled away when his arms fell away and he lay still. "Nurse!" She called out, hitting the call light repeatedly. When two nurses rushed through the door, she could hardly speak. "He...he woke up. We...he...I...gave him a hug...he...just stopped." She was beside herself, pacing back and forth.

One nurse put an arm around Sally while the other checked their patient. "It's okay. We'll check him over, but it's normal for patients who are so highly medicated to wake up for only a short period, then suddenly fall back asleep."

After an agonizingly long minute, the other nurse straightened out the covers and turned her attention to Sally. "He's doing fine. I know it's unnerving to have them be awake one second and out the next, but as the doctor lowers his medication, he'll stay awake longer and it won't be so sudden. The doctor mentioned that that would happen, right?"

Sally sniffled. "I know I'm sorry, I just..." She shook her head, embarrassed at having panicked.

The nurse standing next to her, released her. "Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?"

Sally nodded and accepted a fresh tissue that was handed to her. "Yes, please." She went over and sat next to the bed, taking his hand. "You're going to make me go prematurely gray, Christopher Blake."

############

RO nearly sprinted down the hall toward the bridge. As he passed the mess, he paused to get the attention of Buffer and Sarge who were in the middle of a heated discussion. RO didn't care about what. "Swain woke up."

Buffer and Sarge froze a moment to let the good news sink in. They'd been on the deck when the helicopter medic announced that Swain had stopped breathing as they were loading him and the medics had actually intubated him right there before taking off. Once making port, Buffer had gone right to the hospital and found Sally. She told him that scans showed a bleed, and he had been prepared for surgery, but after more tests, the doctor had come back and felt that a less invasive path was an option. Buffer had been dismayed at all the machines and tubes surrounding the ICU bed . As much as they wanted to hope, until RO said those three words, there was still plenty of doubt. "Well, it's about time!" Buffer bellowed next to Sarge's whoop of joy.

"I'm on my way to tell the Captain. He'll probably make an announcement to let the crew know."

"Not if we tell them first." Charge nearly bowled RO over as he pushed out the door, Buffer following.

By all outward appearance RO didn't appear affected by his crew mates enthusiasm as they disappeared to spread the news, but there was a small lift at the corner of his lip when he resumed his way to the bridge.

############

One week later:

"Just a few more steps and we'll take a break." The doctor put a hand out tentatively when Chris teetered for a moment, then righted himself.

"Easy for you to say." The walk across the room had been frustrating. Everything had been frustrating. He could barely feed himself . He noticed that it was getting better, though. When he'd first tried, he couldn't even pick up the utensils. The doctor said that it was normal for someone who'd been oxygen deprived like he'd been, but it was still irritating to make such a mess just to eat.

He also noticed that he was more short tempered. Things that would have just bothered him before were now a chore to let go. More than once he'd seen Sally look away when he'd snapped at her over something simple. Then he would become even more irritated, knowing that she didn't deserve to be spoken to in such a way.

"How about your memory? Anything coming back?"

Unwillingly, he felt a wave of anger. He was sick of being asked that. While he was now remembering things from one waking time to the next, he still had recalled nothing of the events that had put him here. He pressed his lips together to cut off an inappropriate response. The doctor was only doing her job. "No."

She looked at him skeptically as he tipped back onto the bed. "Still having bad dreams?"

Chris squashed down another wave of irritation. Why ask a question when she already knew the answer? He turned away for the second it took to keep from saying just that and sighed. "Maybe."

The doctor turned on a laser light and held it out. "Left hand. Point it at the wall and hold it steady." She patiently waited while Chris grudgingly reached out a shaky hand and fumbled to point it.

"Where?

"Anywhere, just try to keep it steady."

Hard has he tried, the imaginary spot that he'd chosen eluded him.

"Try the right hand."

He was well aware of the doctor's scrutiny as he concentrated on switching hands. Such a simple task, but he couldn't seem to do it with ease His brain knew what to do but his hands just wouldn't do what they were told. Finally, he pointed the laser again. The results were a little better than the left hand but this weakness was maddening.

The doctor watched in concern as her patients irritation grew. From all reports, the person sitting in front of her was one of the most mild mannered people they knew. What she was seeing was the exact opposite. Irritation, anger, impatience...all could be contributed to the recent head injury, but they could also be psychosomatic. She made a note to continue monitoring the condition and hoped it improved as he healed.

The doctor took the light from the shaky fist that formed around it. "Do you want to tell me about the dreams?"

Chris bulked. "I thought you were a medical doctor, not a shrink." He clumsily laid himself back into the bed, fighting with the covers. "Are we done?"

The doctor sighed. "For now." She left when it was obvious that she was mentally being dismissed.

############

Outside the room, Sally was waiting for the exam to finish. When she came up to the doctor, she was led farther from the doorway so they could talk. The look on the doctors face told Sally all she needed to know.

"Do you see why I'm concerned?" Sally wiped a hand over her face to keep the tears at bay.

Dr. Hutchins set down her clip board on the counter. "I do." She thought for a moment, not wanting to alarm Sally, but also wanting her to realized that his personality change may not be temporary. "Your husband has been through a very traumatic ordeal, both physically and mentally. I'd be surprised if he wasn't experiencing some symptoms of post traumatic stress."

"If he can't remember what happened, why is he so angry?"

She wrote a quick note on the chart. "Maybe he does remember."

Sally's eyed widened. "The dreams...but if he's remembering, why would he lie."

"I'm not suggesting that he's lying. It may be that he forgets after he wakes up but the emotional effects linger. He may not even know why he's angry, so he just lashes out." She put the chart in the slot next to the desk. "Look, I'm just speculating. Like he pointed out to me when I asked him about them...I'm not a psychologist. My specialty is physical. I can't rule out that it's the trauma that is affecting him and he may never consciously remember what happened."

Sally frowned. "So we just wait."

The doctor nodded to someone down the hall. "I understand your concern. At this time, he may just need time to heal. We're going to continue to monitor him closely, but I suggest he speak to someone with more experience in dealing with the emotional side of this. Maybe between the two of us we can make some headway. Okay?" At Sally's nod, she continued down the hall to her next patient.

############

Buffer was shocked when they finally got to port and the small group who had looked forward to seeing their friend had been told that Swain was not taking visitors. While they milled about, processing that information and wondering if they should be worried, Sally came out of the room. She looked like she'd aged ten years since he'd seen her. She came over to the group and thanked each of them for coming, but regretted that he just wasn't up for company. Disappointed, the visitors gave her their well wishes to pass on and began filtering out.

"Pete?" She stopped him, keeping him from leaving with the rest. "Could I speak with you?"

He followed her around corner. "Sally? What's going on?"

She hesitated as if she was going to change her mind but then looked at the floor. "I was wondering if you could talk to him?" At his questioning expression, she continued. "Something's going on with him. I've seen him angry, scared, confused...but this...since he woke up,...he's become...different."

"Different? How?"

"He's just not himself." She rung her hands nervously, not believing it was her husband that she was describing. "At first he'd just snap at me and the nursing staff over the most basic things, but it's been getting worse. One of the aides didn't close the door all the way when she left and he berated her about her incompetence. He's just been plain mean. I listed him as off limits for visitors just for the fact that I didn't want them to see him like this. The doctor came by earlier to check on him. She suggested that there may be a psychological part to it. Suggested that he talk to someone." She looked at him expectantly.

When it dawned on Buffer what she was asking, he would have thought it a joke. "Sally, I don't know. I'm not qualified..."

"You're his friend, Pete. He definitely won't talk to a stranger and I've already tried. He just shuts down...and that's one of his better responses. I don't know who else to ask. Please."

Buffer unconsciously rubbed his eyes a moment then sighed. "Fine, I'll do what I can, on one condition."

She smiled in relief. "Thank you so much...name it."

"You have to get out of here. Take a break."

"Okay, there are some things I need do. A couple hours maybe?"

Buffer shook his head. "No, I mean out. Have you left since he came in?"

"Well...yeah. I mean, I ..."

"If you want me to talk to him, I need time with him. You look exhausted, and you have to think about the baby. All the stress can't be good."

She understood what he was saying but to just leave...? She did just ask for his help. "You'll call me if anything happens, right?"

"Of course. Just give me a couple hours to go home and get some stuff done and I'll be back. Okay?"

Sally nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you, Pete."

"Well, don't thank me yet. I just hope I don't make it worse."

############

Anger, frustration, disbelief. Pulling, stretching desperately for breath. Please! No skin off your nose! Can't breath! I'm never going to see my baby! Don't want to...no...NO!

Buffer shifted in the uncomfortable seat. He watched for a moment to see if the movement that caught his eye would quiet on its own or need his attention.

The waking, as Buffer now called it, usually went one of two ways. The first was when Swain would just startle awake and be confused, but state that he couldn't remember what had woke him.

Then there was the second. Fewer than the first, but more unnerving. First, a twitch of a hand, then breathing that gradually quickened. An occasional mumbled protest. All leading to anything from the sudden jerk of terrified wakefulness, to a full on, gasping for air, anxiety attack that required a sedative. The sedative would put him down before he knew he had even woke from the terror.

At least that was what Buffer was hoping. He wondered if the sedative really stopped the dreams, or if it just kept them from being acted out, leaving Swain trapped inside and repeating the horror until he could wake up again.

From what he'd observed so far, the worse the waking, the worse Swain's mood. He could see early on why Sally was so desperate for him to be there. This was his second day sitting with his friend and he'd gained a whole new respect for her. This person was insulting, inconsiderate and just a plain mean bastard. But that was only most of the time. There were times when he seemed almost normal. At those times, Buffer would venture to get him to open up, but that would only get him an angry glare...if he were lucky. Not for the first time, he was uncertain if he was helping at all, but hearing the difference in Sally's voice when she checked in made him feel that at least he was helping her.

Buffer watched the frantic facial changes, again trying to put a lid on the anger he felt toward those who did this.

"Hey, mate." Buffer gently shook Swain in an attempt to ease him out of the terror that seemed to plague every attempt at a natural sleep. "Come on."

Swain turned away from the touch. "Don't...plea...st..." It was the desperate, heart wrenching pleading, accompanied by a slow buildup of anguished tears that were the hardest to hear.

Balled up, shaking fists came up to his eyes, as he gripped the sheets, pulling at them. "Dark. Don't let...No... NO!..." He began to thrash harder.

"Damn. " Buffer reached in and gripped the tense arms, careful of the light bandages that covered the damaged wrists. He'd made the mistake of not holding them the last time and had the bruise on his cheek as a reminder. Yep, this was going to be a bad one. He glanced at the call light, debating if he should call someone.

"Swaino!" He raised his voice and put more weight into it as the dream intensified. Leaning closer, he looked around to be sure no one was coming in to respond to the pulse and oxygen alarms that had started going off. "Don't Swain do that." He admonished when Swain held his breath, reliving the ordeal. "NOW! Wake up, mate!"

At the same moment the door opened and a nurse came in, a syringe already in hand, hurrying to the IV, ready to put her tormented patient at ease again.

"No...don't...please..."

Buffer and the nurse looked down. The words were the same they'd heard before but this time they sounded more coherent. Buffer felt the fight leave his friend and dared to ease up a little.

"Please, I don't want to sleep any more." Reddened eyes tentatively opened to look right at the nurse. "Please." The eyes closed again as he concentrated on his breathing.

The nurse nodded and lowered the syringe, recapping it. She patted his shoulder and left the two alone.

"You good?" Buffer slowly released his grip completely, regretful of the large hand marks on Swain's forearms, and waited for a response. "Swaino?"

A hard, wet sigh and when Swain opened his eyes, there was, again, the very, un-Swain-like, darkness in them. "What?!"

The angry, single word took Buffer back, but he caught something in the look. He waited a beat before leaning in and resting his elbows on the railing. "Still going to tell me you're not remembering what happened?" Swain turned away, blocking him out. "What do you remember?"

The fists contracted again. "Bugger off!"

Of course, Buffer felt like he'd been slapped, but it wasn't the first time in the past two days that he'd been told what to go do with himself, so he held his hovering position, his demeanor changing. It was time to take off the kits gloves . " Well, that just is not going to happen. You're pushing Sally to her limits, you know that, don't you? The doctor thinks it's physical, that you just need to heal, and maybe it is, but I also know that part of it is right up here." He tapped his own temple. When Swain refused to acknowledge him, he angled to get more into Swain's face, determined to get through to him. "I was there. I saw what they did to you...I'm the one who cut the ropes that held you down." He saw Swain wince. "And I'm the one who breathed for you even after you puked your guts out." Swain's face flushed, tears welled noticeably and he turn away. "Chefo and I sat with you while you burned up with fever. Even the XO took a turn at your side. Just about every member of the crew was on deck when that helicopter flew off with you. You have a line of people who wanted to come see you and we get here to find out that Sally has requested no visitors for you because she doesn't want anyone to know what a bastard you've become!" He lowered his voice which had been steadily rising. "We did not go through all that worry and effort, so you can sit here and tie yourself in knots so tight that even your own wife dreads being in the same room with you." He leaned in closer still. "If you won't talk to me, you will talk to someone. Which will it be?" He waited for a response.

The silence lasted longer than he expected. After several minutes of stillness in the dim room, there was the sniffle. A shaky hand came up and rubbed at wet eyes only to stay and slowly moved down to muffle a sudden sob. His head slowly shaking as if he still could not accept what happened.

Buffer closed his eyes, not really wanting to see his friend like this, but it had to be done.

The hand eventually wiped at the tears clumsily as he choked. "They...they tried to...to...kill me." He was momentarily silent again, except for the rough intake of breaths. When he spoke again, he was more collected. "We...we have..we get shot at...a lot. I mean...it's part of the job. Bad guys and all...but..." He shook his head.

"But most don't come on board and bond with you over a barbie." Buffer said evenly.

Swain nodded, still turned away. "Or discuss my baby's ultrasound."

Buffer watched Swain rub his nose and eye the bandage on his wrist. Buffer quickly grabbed a tissue off the roller table that partially straddled the bed. He silently shoved it into Swain's hand before there was any follow through with the bandages.

Swain wiped at the wetness, and as Buffer watched, Swain's face darkened and the volatile temper that seemed to be his constant companion lately reappeared. His voice once again took an angry edge. "That same bloke tied me in a pitch black hold, on a sinking ship and left me to die!" His hand, holding the crumpled tissue, waved angrily. "I asked him...I begged him...to leave the rope loose...so I could get out...after they left..." He almost turned back a little and nearly made eye contact with Buffer but not quite, the angry tears building again. "He said that the boss would kill him...and that he had his family to think about." He actually threw Buffer a sideways, hate filled glance but didn't hold it. "But what about MY family...MY wife...MY child!" The last had the roller table slammed across the room with surprising strength. All its contents scattered excepted for the ice water container that Buffer's quick reflexes had snatched up as the table flew from beneath.

Buffer waved away the nurses that burst into the room. They'd responded so quickly that Buffer suspected that they must have heard the raised voices, but were hesitant to enter until the crash. Swain hadn't even looked at them. He sat there, red-faced and staring at the foot of the bed long after they left. Then in a barely audible whisper..."I've never been so scared in my life."

Buffer didn't respond. Instead, he just stood there holding the cold plastic water container as the condensation from the melting ice dripped on the floor. He waited to see if Swain would continue before shoving the water at him. "Drink."

He was ignored.

Buffer gave it a shake, rattling the ice. Slowly, an improving, but still unsteady, hand reached up and took it, but the straw still didn't make it to Swain's mouth, instead the container rested on the covers, making them wet.

"Do you need help with that?" Buffer asked from across the room where he righted the table, replacing the contents.

"No." Swain fumbled a little but finally took a short draw of water. It wasn't long before half the container was gone.

Buffer took it from him and placed it on the table. "Feel better?" For a long moment, he didn't think he was going to get an answer.

"Head hurts." Swain felt at the healing bruise on the back on his head, then rubbed a hand over the rest, feeling the short stubble that was now his hair.

Buffer saw the frown. "It's a good look, you should keep it. It'll save you the bother of trying to do a comb over." He saw a finger start to come up but smirked when it was interrupted by a knock and the door opened. "Hold that thought."

The nurse that came in, looking around cautiously before entering. Swain almost cracked a smile. Almost.

"It's okay, you're safe." Buffer reassured her.

Swain pressed his lips together when the XO's voice filtered in a memory. 'You're safe now.'

"Are you okay?" The nurse came up to the bed.

He was about to nod but stopped. "Head really hurts."

Buffer chuckled. "Chucking tables across the room tends to aggravate head injuries."

Swain tilted his head. "Still holding that thought, mate."

"Well." The nurse pulled out a syringe. "Good thing I brought this."

Swain's attention perked up and he tensed. "I don't...!" He paused and lowered his voice. "I don't want a sedative."

She smiled at his effort. "It's just your pain meds." When he didn't protest, she injected it into the port. "Okay. Do you need anything while I'm here?"

"Yes, I need you to take him with you." He pointed at Buffer who snorted.

She smiled as she left. "I'll give security a call."

"I'm not joking!" Swain huffed as the door closed. "I don't think she took me seriously."

Buffer flipped up the mirror on the newly up righted table and aimed it at Swain.

"Oh my...I look terrible." He rubbed his hand over his short hair again and moved down from there. The stitches over his right eye, matching green and sickly yellow bruising under each droopy eye from the concussion, stubbly whiskers that were almost as long as his hair. Beneath it all, a pale complexion that made it all stand out the more. He blew into his hand. "Even my breath smells like road kill."

Buffer went over, opened the cupboard and tossed a toothbrush onto his friends lap, feeling encouraged that that were finally on the right track. "Yes, it does, mate."

############

Swain could barely keep his eyes open by the time he finished shaving and washing up.

Buffer collected the toiletries and inspected their work. "You almost look, and smell, human again." He put the items away, looking at himself in the cupboard mirror. "Not as handsome as some..." He exaggerated the self appreciation. "...but you look more like you again."

Swain rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn. "How long did Sally say she was going to be gone?" He felt a lot better and Buffer had even helped him to the 'recliner' while a nursing assistant changed the bed linen. The hospital called it a recliner. The thing was broken which made his anger flare again. He had beat on it until Buffer reminded him that it was already broken. He'd just sighed and rubbed at his head until he could wobble back into bed, grateful that his coordination was showing improvements. He fought the pull of exhaustion and forced his eyes open, blinking when Buffer was suddenly sitting next to him, watching him.

"You really should try to sleep. I don't know much about psychology stuff, but maybe this time it will be better...now that you've gotten some of that anger out."

"No, not yet. I can't, not ready..."

Buffer nodded watching his friend. "You know once NavCom finds out that you're remembering what happened, their going to send someone to question you."

Swain tensed and looked back at the foot of the bed. "That is standard procedure."

The body language and hesitation didn't go unnoticed. "Swain, look at me." Swain bulked at first but finally looked at Buffer. "You're angry..." He put a hand up to stop the interruption. "...and you have every right to be. I'm just saying...maybe we could go over things so you know what you're going to say."

"I don't need to..."

"Okay, look. I asked if you wanted to talk and you took my head off, then nearly embedded a table into the wall."

"Look, mate, I'm really sorry about that. I was just..." He cringed and messaged his head.

"I know you didn't mean it and I get it, I really do. What I'm trying to tell you is...if you can't talk to me, and I was there, how are you going to give the details to strangers without loosing it?"

"It's NavCom, I know most everyone..."

Buffer leaned in to get his point across. "Swaino. I know you..."

Swain snorted. "You think you..."

Buffer came down hard on the barrier that was coming up again. "Oi! I know you! Even if we weren't mates, it's my job. And I'm telling you, you won't make it through. It's already a given that there will be counseling involved, but if you punch a wall while talking to these guys; if they think what happened made you psychologically unfit to deal with your duties, they can recommend you be relieved, permanently." Again, Buffer wished for some time along with Hors and his men. "You may not have died on that boat, but those arseholes can still take your life! Don't let them do that!"

Swain turned away, staring across the room.

Buffer scowled. "What's going on in that head of yours?" He watched Swain's jaw tighten, fists clenching. "I'm not going to let it go, so you might as well..." He looked closer. Something wasn't right. "Swaino?" He came around the bed, then he was out the door and getting the nurse's attention. "I think he's having a seizure." He tried to stay calm as they ran by him.

############

Buffer was leaning against the wall outside the closed door when Sally quick-stepped it down the hall.

"How is he?" She tried to look through the blinds of the door.

"He's okay. The doctor's in with him now. It was just a minor seizure, he came out of it really fast."

She stared at the door, pausing. "Pete? What if this is permanent? The anger...the short temper. The rudeness and belligerence. Having this time off to think...I don't know if I can..." She rubbed her hand over her stomach. "What kind of father will he be?"

Buffer chuckled and she looked over at him. "Right before he was taken, he asked me the same thing. He was so concerned about being a good father while he was away so much. I'll tell you what I told him. You and him...can handle anything."

She gave him a long, grateful look, nodded and wiped away a tear as the door opened. The doctor came out, leaving the door open while a couple techs went in. The doctor led her and Buffer away from the door. "How is he?" It seemed to be the question of the day.

"Well..." She hugged the chart to her. "The seizure was relatively mild, but it really wore him out. I've given him a mild sedative, but I'm still concerned that it happened at all." They watched as the techs wheeled the bed out the door. "I've ordered some more scans done and will compare them with the ones we took a couple days ago. Let's take another look at what's going on inside that head of his."

Buffer self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, the doctor's words sounding too familiar. "Um, doc. I was pushing him pretty hard right before this happened. Could that have...you know...the stress..."

She thought for a moment. "I can't say that it didn't contribute, but I'm sure it wasn't the cause. There was some minor swelling in the last scans that we were addressing with his medications. Once the new tests are done we can proceed from there. You can wait here or in the waiting room downstairs. I'll let you know as soon as I know anything." She followed after the bed before they got too far ahead.

Sally sighed. Yes, she knew where the downstairs waiting room was located, very well.

"Are you hungry?"

"What?" Buffer's question pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Hungry. I could eat something, come on, I'll buy."

She nodded, not really hungry, but the company was welcome.

############

Sally sat in the new recliner and stared quietly out the open window. She shifted in the over stuffed chair. It was obvious that someone had been thinking they were doing her a favor by replacing the old recliner for such a soft piece of furniture, but getting out was a real chore. She sighed. Once again the only sound in the dimly lit room were the monitors. At first, she'd tried reading but as the natural lighting from the sun left the room, her mind wondered and she found herself just staring out at the evening sky. Buffer's encouragement and optimization about their combined abilities was helpful, but he had no more control over Chris' recovery than any of them.

The scans had shown that despite the medication, the swelling had become worse, which wouldn't normally be good news, but to Sally it brought hope. Hope that with the revised treatment, the side of her husband that had been presenting itself lately would soon be gone for good. She knew that there was no way that she could live with him otherwise, and she wouldn't subject her child to it.

The brightest of the stars had just started showing themselves when she heard movement from the bed. They'd kept him pretty well sedated after the previous day's seizure, but she had been expecting him to wake up. She chastised herself for dreading the moment he did. She secretly wished that Buffer were there in case he came awake poorly, but after picking over their meal, she'd sent Buffer home to be productive with some of his port time. Then he had crash sailed earlier that morning.

She slowly edged toward the bed...she was on her own.

She nervously took a hand and gave it a squeeze. "Chris?"

There was a deep breath, then foggy eyes blinked open.

She put on her best smile when they landed on her. "Hey."

The hand squeezed back and he returned her smile with a small, tired one of his own. "Hey, yourself."

"How're you feeling?"

############

Buffer finished walking around his watch area and took a seat on the bridge. The sun would be rising soon. The stars in the eastern sky were dimming. He was tired, the watch had been long...and quiet. The 'emergency' that they'd been called out for was nowhere in sight when they arrived at the coordinates and they were doing a search of the area. By dark, nothing had been found, so he and the others on watch were keeping an eye out. Officially, the search would begin again once it was light.

The quiet gave him time to think, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. His thoughts only made him worry and then he'd have to walk around the ship to focus himself again.

He leaned back in the seat, trying to think of something positive, when RO came up he stairs. "You're up awful early."

RO rolled his eyes. "I'm always up this early, I just don't feel need to advertise it." He came up to Buffer. "A message came in for you from NavCom. It's from Mrs. Blake."

Buffer got up from the seat. Was it his imagination or did RO just bounce a little? "And what did it say?"

RO actually came close to smiling. "It said that the new treatment regimen already appears to be showing promise. It also said that visitors are now welcome, whenever we get back to port."

Buffer smiled back. "Well, that is good news. Thanks, RO."

############

Several hours later, they had found their lost boat; what was left of it; in pieces. The pattern indicating some sort of explosion. After the recovery of the unfortunate victims was complete, and the sight turned over to the proper authorities for investigation, the ship headed home. They made port the next day just after noon.

Buffer headed home first, knowing that there were others of the crew that would want to visit. He arrived at the hospital as Harry hobbled from the room with the aide of a set of crutches and Charge telling him how he'd once used a pair of crutches to defend himself against an irate boyfriend who didn't appreciate Charge looking at his girl. Buffer could only imagine what Charge had done to need crutches, but that would probably be a whole other story.

"Guys."

"Hey, Buffer." Harry grimaced a little when he put weight on his left leg. "You missed everyone."

"Yeah, needed to check up on some things." Buffer nodded toward the room. "How's he doing?"

Charge smiled. "Better than the last time we saw him." He sobered. "I really didn't think...well, you know."

Buffer looked away for a moment, reliving his own many moments of doubt. "Yeah...I do.." He smiled. "But, hey, it all worked out and we'll have the gang back together soon enough." He clapping Harry on the back, holding on long enough for Harry to appreciate it, as he resumed his way to the room. "Righto, Charge?"

"Got that right, Buff." Charge waved as Buffer continued down the hall, and returned his attention back to his captive audience, ignoring Harry's sigh. "So where was I? Oh, yeah..."

Buffer tapped lightly on the open door giving Swain a notice before coming inside. "Wakey, wakey. Who's ready do get busted out of here?"

Swain's head rose from his doze and a familiar smile, one that had been missing since the day after they'd picked up those smugglers, appeared across his face. "Really?" He sat up in the chair that had somehow swallowed him.

Buffer looked about in understanding. "No."

Swain slouched back into the chair in obvious disappointment until Buffer stood in front of him. "A walk about then?"

Buffer held out a hand. "That we can do." He helped Swain pull himself from the entrapping cushions. "That's new." He pointed to the chair. "Better than the other."

Swain cautiously stretched and made sure the back of his gown was closed. "I think they put it in here so I can't get away. Sally got stuck in it this morning." He smiled at the memory.

"There you are!"

Both their attention shot to the door when Sally's unusually stern voice startled them.

"I've got a bone to pick with you." She advanced threateningly...or at least as threateningly as a lady in her advancing stage of pregnancy could project.

Both men looked from her to each other, then back at her.

Buffer eyes shifted in contemplation when it looked like she was looking at him. "Me?" He pointed at Swain, sure he was misinterpreting her glare.

She shook her head.

His pointer went back to himself.

"Yes, you." At his blank stare she huffed. "Chris told me what you said."

Swain moved to stand next to his wife and glanced away for a moment as if ashamed. "Sorry, mate."

Buffer was baffled. "What? What'd I say?"

Sally crossed her arms. "You said that you'd be a better godfather to our child than we would be parents!"

Buffer blinked as he recalled the conversation he and Swain had had before this whole mess had begun. "I...I was only joking. I mean...I didn't mean it like that. I only meant..."

Sally held up her hand, eyes flashing her irritation. "There's no excuse for saying such a thing."

Buffer's face fell at her words of unexpected hostility. He looked to Swain for help but his friend was looking at the floor.

Sally stepped up to him and poked an angry finger at is chest. "I've only got one thing to say to you, Peter Tomaszewski." She saw him sting and his cheeks redden at the sudden assault. She then held up an envelope that she'd been holding in her other hand. "Prove it."

Buffer blinked, confused when Swain could no longer cover a snort of amusement. "Wh..What?"

Sally's accusing look had turned into a 'got ya' smirk. "We'd like you to prove what kind of godfather you'd be." She held the envelope closer.

His eyes shifted between the two Blake's, obviously unsure if he should trust them at the moment. "Really." It was more of a statement than a question.

Sally physically put the envelope into his hand and stepped back next to her husband. "You've been there for us so much, we don't know of anyone we'd trust more."

Buffer stood, dumbfounded, looking at the envelope. "Really?" This time it was a question. It was taking him a long time to shift gears. "You want me... a godfather?" He was trying to wrap his brain around the idea. He'd joked about it but never thought it would be taken seriously.

"So what do you say?" Swain prompted. He scratched at his short, itchy hair and side whispered to Sally. "I think I got a faster answer out of you when I proposed." They both stared, waiting for an answer.

Buffer slowly smiled and finally looked at them. He put a hand to his chest and gave a small bow. "I'd be honored...so long as you two never, ever do anything like this to me again." He patted over his heart.

Swain put his hands up. "Hey mate, I had no idea she was going to do that."

"Yeah, well you didn't do anything to stop her."

Swain shrugged and grinned.

Sally laughed. "I just saw you in here and it all fell into place." She nodded toward the envelope. "Once these are signed, it's official."

Buffer opened it, looking at the papers inside just to be sure she wasn't giving him an envelope of empty papers.

"You should take it home and read it. Have someone look at it, if you want, then sign on the X's."

Buffer closed the envelope. "Well, I'm in the mood to celebrate. I'm buying. Anything you want in the cafeteria is on me."

Sally chuckled and Swain rolled his eyes. "Wow, anything?" He lamented, while Sadly helped him into a robe.

As they left the room and their voices faded down the hall. Sally could be heard teasing about the sanity of their choice, and Buffer could be heard telling everyone they passed how he was going to be a godfather.

Fin.