Author's Note: Set a few days after the Season III finale.
Necessitate
It happened in an instant.
In one swift move, he had tugged her up against his chest, his larger frame enveloping hers as his hands rested against her back.
They do not fit together like they use to.
Back then his arms would gently circle her waist, pushing her softly against him. She would bury her face in the crook of his neck, arms hooking over his shoulders.
It's not like that now. It can't be. That was before.
Now she feels herself unexpectedly hurled against his chest, his arms locking her in place. There is trepidation in his touch, and even with his closeness she can feel the distance. She moves her arms to awkwardly encircle his larger frame, his body tense, lacking the softness she remembered. Both their movements are jerky and unnatural as she closes her eyes, refusing to hear the beating of his heart. His arms do not draw her closer. She's not the only one that hides in the façade of professional distance.
Time passes, and she feels him begin to break away, refusing to hold her longer than social rules allow.
Not that anyone would be there to catch them.
Such a public display of affection would never be tolerated by either of them.
In the sanctity of her living room, however, such an action can be erased.
He lets her go then, and she is slightly surprised at the force it takes to extract her body from his arms. It is a moment before he meets her eyes, and she again wonders if she has finally developed the vivid imagination that eluded her as a child, because she swears she can see just the hint of desire. She inhales deeply, reminding herself who she is. The Executive Officer of the HMAS Hammersley.
Or was she?
That was, after all, the topic that had lead to him standing in her living room.
The silence ticks by as no words are exchanged and he gives her a small smile, his lips moving as he finally breaks the silence.
"It was a pleasure serving with you again, Kate," he starts, his voice even and controlled, but his mind is not on his words. He is watching her, he can't help it. Her confidant gaze is slightly unsettled, and he can't help but wonder if it is because of him. She gently responds with a compliment about serving under his command. His mind barely registers her soft voice.
He wants her back for another rotation of the Hammersely.
He just wants her.
But he'll take her in any form he can.
"Your position is there should you wish to undergo another rotation," he replies formally, trying to keep his voice even as he breaks his gaze from hers. He is torn. Torn between wanting her to make her own decision, and desperate to keep her with him.
She gives a small nod in response, she knows this, but every so often it was nice to hear.
She can feel his steady gaze upon her, as if waiting for an answer, and she cannot force herself to look into his eyes. She needs to make a decision, whether to stay or go, and she wants to make the decision for the right reasons. She just doesn't know what the right reasons are.
Dread fills the pit of his stomach as he watches her gaze stray across his face, avoiding his eyes, and he knows she has doubts.
The sudden anguish catches him by surprise, and he cocks his head as he forces oxygen back into his lungs.
"Big ships calling?" he asks, breaking their silence, and he surprises himself at the severity in his tone.
Maybe his ex-girlfriend had been right with the assertion he had the emotional maturity of a five year old.
Maybe he just wanted her to hate him, make this whole thing a damn bit easier.
Her eyes finally snap up to meet his, the brutality of his words fracturing the easy silence.
She takes a step back, and in an instant, has removed herself from his personal reach.
"I have not made a decision yet, Sir," she responds curtly as she folds her arms across her chest, her fingers tapping her arm as she attempts to control her annoyance.
"I will let you know in due course," she adds as she takes a few steps towards the front door, effectively shepherding him from her sanctuary.
He can see the unspoken accusation in her eyes.
Damn him, for making her feel guilty.
And he knows he has, and knows he had no right to.
He feels his temples begin to pulse as the headache begins to radiate across his forehead.
She clears her throat as he remains rooted to the spot, and for the twelfth time in two minutes he wonders what she would do if he just kissed her.
Probably punch you into next week, his brain helpfully supplied. He stared at her clenched jaw and blazing eyes. He had been lucky to have gotten away with the hug. By her aggravated stance, he would now be lucky to get away with his limbs intact.
Might as well go down in a blaze of glory then, his mind piped up, and in a moment of clarity, he suddenly realized why he had gotten in so much trouble as a youth.
Instead, he gave a small nod, relinquishing to her unspoken request as he made his way towards the door.
He took a calming breath as he moved, trying to quiet the irritating voice in his head.
The voice that kept pointing out she was technically no longer his Executive Officer.
When she suddenly halted and whirled towards him, only twenty years of military training stop him from crashing into her.
He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, staring at him.
Shit.
He had said it aloud.
Her mouth opened and then shut, and despite the seriousness of the moment, he couldn't help but find their entire situation amusingly absurd.
Out of all the patrol boats in the world, she had to have stepped on to his.
She stares at him for a second, and his amusement must be infectious because he watches her sudden defensiveness ease. She hangs her head in exasperation, a small giggle escaping her lips. The sound of the girly giggle is so un-Kate that he can't help the snort of amusement.
And in that moment he knew.
Knew that the months of strained distance were not one sided.
Knew he wasn't the only one going insane.
She had an amused smile on her lips when she returned her gaze to him and he allowed his eyes to linger on hers, just for a moment.
Her lips parted ever so slightly as he watched her draw in a deep breath.
"I will be, Sir," she responds.
His title seems out of place in the intimacy of the moment, and for a countless time he wishes she would just
call him Mike.
Then her words actually hit him.
And suddenly his title doesn't seem so bad.
"You're coming back?" he asks, and he knows the anxiousness is clear in his voice. Knows, but doesn't particularly care. He wants her on the Hammersley, and he doesn't want to take the moral high ground anymore. He needs her there.
Apparently, he is doing a spectacularly bad job of hiding this because she takes a step back. He wonders if it is because she doesn't want him to touch her, or because she wants him to.
"I think another rotation as 2IC will be highly beneficial for me, I think I can still learn a lot under your command, Sir," she responds formally, but her gaze is slightly unsteady.
For the thirty-second time in three minutes, he wants to kiss her.
Instead he mutters something about her value to the Navy as his fingers reach out, wrapping around the door handle.
She moves to follow him out.
And in another split instant, he crosses the distance with his lips, placing a light kiss on her cheek.
They rarely touch, and he knows he is beginning to cross the unspoken boundaries.
Instead of glowering at him she smiles, and he swears he can see just the faintest hint of a blush tinge her creamy skin.
With excruciating agony he jars the door open, and as the fresh sun light hits his face, he wants to scream in frustration.
Instead, he takes a deep breath, forcing his body to take one reluctant step after the other.
He hears her door click shut.
He knows she has gone.
And in that split second, he is reminded why he keeps that distance.
And he knows.
Knows that as much as he wants it all.
He won't survive with nothing.