Flashback

by kashkow

Sequel to "What Would You Have Done?" Will make no sense unless you read that one first. Might still not make sense after you read that. ;

Flashback

by Ellen H

Chapter 1-

Admiral Harriman Nelson, U.S. Navy Retired, filled his coffee cup and replaced the pot back into the coffee maker. He picked up the cup and, sipping cautiously at the hot liquid, headed out of the open kitchen into the living room of the cabin he owned in the Sierra Nevadas. He called it a cabin, but it was a spacious house made of logs and native rock. It had a high cathedral ceiling in the living room, complemented by a soaring, native rock fireplace. The three bedrooms - two guest rooms downstairs and a master suite upstairs - were well appointed and comfortable with large down beds and fluffy feather comforters.

The master bedroom looked out over the living room, and had a view through the huge windows that made up the north wall. Upon first seeing it, Lee had asked in amusement which had come first - the cabin or the Seaview. The transparent nose of the mighty submarine compared favorably to the glass wall of the cabin for viewing. And while Seaview's 'windows' provided an ever-changing view of the ocean, the cabin windows looked out over a serene lake, ringed by cedar incense and golden aspen trees and lush vegetation in the summer and surrounded by dazzling snow in the winter against which the Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines stood out.

Now it was early spring and, while there were patches of snow in the shadows of the trees and the brush that covered much of the edges of the lake was just now sprouting with soft green leaves, the vista was still spectacular. The lake reflecting the blue of the clear sky was enough to stop a man in his tracks. The wind had cleared out all but the most persistent of the puffy white clouds that had covered the sky that morning. But all of the scenery, as beautiful as it was, wasn't what captured his eye as Nelson came to a stop before the window.

He felt the heat from the massive fireplace and the chill radiating from the window; the comparison was made ever the more striking as he looked out at the figure that sat on the end of the small dock. He, Nelson, was here in the warmth of the fire, and Lee Crane was out there in the cold wind. It spoke volumes about how things had been since they had arrived the day before.

Will Jamieson had agreed to let them out of the hospital only on the condition that neither be seen or heard from for at least a week. Both officers had chafed under the restriction, wanting to get back to the Seaview, back to normal, but Jamieson was firm. So Nelson had proposed to Crane that they retreat to the 'cabin'. Jamison had approved the plan, and so yesterday morning after leaving the hospital, and taking time to pack, the two men had headed up into the mountains.

The drive had been long, and quiet for the most part. They had discussed some matters concerning Seaview and her schedule for the next month. Neither had mentioned Turkmenistan, or the mission and aftermath that had landed them in the hospital. They had been in the same hospital room for two days previously, and hadn't discussed it then either.

Now Nelson knew that if the matter was to be brought up, it would be have to be at his instigation. Crane was obviously happy to let it go, though happy was not the word that Nelson would have used to describe his young captain. Lee was never a very demonstrative man. He felt all the same things as other people, but he seldom showed them on his face or in his demeanor. And though his eyes always betrayed him to those who knew him best, long lashes often veiled the emotions he sought to hide. It had taken years of close contact for Nelson to learn to read the small signs and body language that spoke so loudly even when Crane would not, could not, and now his body language was screaming 'leave it alone'.

Nelson himself would be almost happy to forget what had gone on; that is, if he could remember most of it. As it was, he had gotten flashes of the interrogation process, had remembered hearing his own voice droning on and on about everything he knew, and a few memories of the trip back from Afghanistan. Lee had assured him, and Nelson believed him, that there was nothing he could have done to stop himself talking. The drug cocktail developed by his captors had scrambled his mind to a point where he didn't know what he was doing, and had made him eager to speak.

He really didn't want to recall any space more about the interrogation; what had him curious was what Lee had told Stark in the Navy brig in which Crane had been confined. Jiggs had refused to pass on what the young captain had told him in confidence, not that Nelson held it against him. The problem was that he found himself jealous that Lee had chosen to talk to Stark… and not to him. It was petty, and he hoped that he hid that jealousy from Crane, but he had come to want that confidence more and more as they had settled into the cabin, and it became obvious that Lee was not going to talk. They had dined the previous evening, and both men had retreated early to bed.

Nelson had found that after the one nightmare when he recalled most of the interrogation that the flashbacks and nightmares had dwindled. He had slept well last night even without the medication that Jaime had given him in the hospital. He had woken slowly that morning, luxuriating in the feel of being bundled under the feather comforter and not the multiple thin blankets of his hospital bed. He had glanced at the clock to find it after 0800, a very late time for him. He knew that Crane would have been up for at least two hours, and suspected that he would have already had a run around the lake. Ah, to be young again, not that he had ever been as physical as his young captain.

He had eventually crawled out of bed, shaved and showered. It was just after 0900 when he had come into the kitchen to find, ready for him, a full pot of coffee and a plate of fresh bagels from the small but incredibly well stocked store on the other end of the lake. No doubt Lee had stopped on his way around. There was no sign that the man had any of it himself, but years in the Navy had made Crane a neat housekeeper. He had wondered where Crane might be, and a quick tour of the house had left him with no answers. It was only when he went to the window to take a look outside that he had seen Lee, perched on the end of the dock.

Crane was seated against one of the pier supports, knees drawn up, long arms crossed on top of them, and his head lowered so that his chin rested on his arms. He was staring out over the water, seemingly not noticing the wind that ruffled his short curls. Nelson knew that wind was biting cold, and was glad to see that Crane had at least put on one of Nelson's old jackets. It was a typical Lee Crane pose. He had always loved water in any of its forms. Anything larger than a puddle would eventually draw the young man to it. He also loved the winds.

He had once told Nelson that after he had learned that air was technically a liquid, he had just assumed that it was like water. That artless comparison had gone a long way in explaining to the admiral Lee's utter comfort as a diver. He had been moved at the time to remind his captain to not forget that, alike or not, Lee could not breathe water. Lee's laughter had made him seem even younger than usual and had drawn an answering smile from Nelson. Crane's idea of a perfect walk was a beach in the middle of a storm. He had told Nelson that he liked the cabin not only because of the lake, but because the near constant wind in the nearby trees sounded like surf and lulled him to sleep at night almost as well as being on the Seaview.

The brooding stance was also classic Crane. Despite how he might appear, and was, a man of action, Lee Crane was also a man of deep thought, and equally deep feelings. He tended to brood if left on his own, and he was obviously well into it now. Nelson left him to it and went about reading the paper that was on the kitchen table, also courtesy of Lee's early run, no doubt. When he finished the paper he went to refill his cup, and here he was, once again watching his captain.

HIS captain. When had Lee become his possession? Not just an employee, not just a friend, but HIS. Had it been at the Academy when he had first met the young man, when they had served together aboard Nautilus, or later, when Lee had come to be captain of the Seaview? He wasn't sure. He knew that of all the young men he had taught at the Academy, mentored through the ranks, and considered friends, only Lee had come to mean so much to him. He sometimes wished he could overcome his own reticence to tell Lee how he felt. Sometimes it was hard to hide his concern, and he often retreated behind temper or anger to cover up the worry and dread that sometimes haunted his mind.

As he stood at the window, he suddenly swayed; he was past noticing when the mug dropped from his hand and shattered on the hardwood floor. Everything whirled, and suddenly he was…

He was at the launching of theSeaview. How well he remembered it, but there was something that he hadn't remembered. For some reason he was lying down, and crouched next to him was Lee Crane. He could feel the smile growing on his face, ignoring the inconsistency between what had happened and what he now remembered.

"Lee, lad, you're here! I've been waiting for you!" he said, happily. "I'm glad you came. It wouldn't be the same without you being here." Nelson paused, confused by the differences in his memories, and frowned. "How did you know we were launching today? I thought you were at sea?"

Crane cleared his throat, and spoke somewhat hesitantly it seemed, "I'm glad I could come. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. You know how much theSeaviewmeans to me." There was sincerity in the statement that made Nelson's heart fill with joy.

"I built her for you, lad. She was always meant to be yours; you're part of her. I could never ask for a better captain. Or a better son." Harry was amazed that he could just come out and say that. That he could actually admit to Lee everything he felt. He was puzzled though. Lee wasn't the captain of theSeaviewnow he was in the Navy. John Phillips was the captain. But Lee WOULD be the captain one day, he KNEW it. He couldn't understand how he knew though.

Suddenly the darkness seemed to be closing back in. He called out for the only sure light in this odd universe.

"Lee? Lee, are you there? Lee!"

"I'm here, Admiral. It's okay," Crane said, and Nelson felt a strong hand gripping his. Nelson grasped it like a life preserver. He smiled again.

"Good. I'm always happier when you're here. I miss you when you're gone on one of your missions. I understand why you go, but I worry, you know." He laughed, happy that he could finally say the things he had longed to say but had feared would push Lee away. "You'll think it's silly, I know. But it's a father's prerogative to worry about his child even after he's grown up. You know that's how I think of you, as my son. I only wish I had met you sooner. I missed the first 17 years of your life. It could have been so much happier for both of us if only I had found you sooner."

With that the darkness swirled around him again, and it seemed like he floated there for a long time, with only the odd squeaking/creaking sound to keep him company. Occasionally he could hear voices, and he was afraid for a moment, until he recognized Crane's voice. Lee was there. He was safe.

The darkness faded again, and he was once more aware of his surroundings. He was laying on something strange, not a mattress, but not hard like the ground. He was covered by what felt like wool blankets, and the warmth felt good. He had a vague memory of having been cold, but wasn't sure when exactly that had been. He tried to think, but it was so hard. His mind was whirling; thoughts came and went in an instant. He could almost grasp them, and then they were gone. He tried to talk, but was aware somehow that it came out only as a moan. After a moment he felt a hand gently placed on his forehead. It stayed there, a benediction of constancy in a world of chaos. He tried again to speak, but only produced a groan, and then his eyes were open and looking at Lee Crane.

"Lee. Is that you?" he managed to ask. It was dark, but a silvery light seemed to glow around Crane, almost like a halo. He could just make out Crane's face, where a tentative smile was growing. Nelson found himself needing to apologize to the younger man, wanting him to understand. The fact that Nelson wasn't quite sure exactly what there was to understand didn't seem to matter; he just had to talk.

"I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you. Phillips took your place. They wanted someone older, someone more experienced, " Nelson explained. Crane didn't seem to understand, didn't react, except for a sad look that crossed his face. It made Nelson angry, and he pressed ahead, needing the other man to understand. "I let them talk me into it, even though I had thought of you being there almost since her keel was laid. You should have seen her take to the water. It was like…nothing I had ever seen. It was right, it was how it was meant to be, but….YOU weren't there. Why weren't you there!"

"Admiral, I…" Crane started, but now Nelson was angry. Lee didn't understand! He had to make him understand!

"No, no excuses! Don't you know how I count on you to be there? How I can do what I need to do because I know you are there? It doesn't mean anything at all if you don't stay, if you aren't there. I built it all, but there was no one to give it to, no one to take it after I' m gone. But then you were there, and you were the one. But…you keep going, you don't stay, and it'll be for nothing…. For nothing…" Nelson was suddenly tired after his outburst, but he felt better for getting it off his chest. Now Crane would know. Now he would stop going out to danger. Now he would stay.

Nelson felt a hand pat his chest. He tried to speak again, but was aware that the words only seemed to come out a mumble that even he couldn't understand. The thoughts were once again coming too quickly. It was too hard to stick to one thought. He felt something cool and metal against his lips, and water trickled into his mouth. He managed to focus long enough to swallow some, but then he once again felt himself falling into the confusion that was his mind.

Nelson felt something settle against him, and felt one of the blankets being pulled to the side. He heard some strange rustling noise as the form beside him found a comfortable position. The warmth from the other body was soon radiating through him, making him more comfortable; even in the confused place that his mind had fled to, he was grateful for the warmth, and somehow knew that it was Lee. He tried to speak again, tried to let Lee know he was aware of his presence, grateful for his warmth, but nothing came. For a long time there was silence and the night; he was aware of his own thoughts coming and going, sometimes giving way to darkness, only to reappear. He could not really feel his body, but something told him there was an arm next to his, and with a great act of will he made his hand move until it was on that arm. For some reason that made it easier to allow the darkness to come once again.

He had been trying to fight his way out of that darkness for what seemed like forever when he heard the voice, "Admiral!… Admiral!… Harry! Please Harry!" It was frantic, and worried, and he could not ignore its summons. He opened his eyes to find himself lying mostly on the floor of his cabin. His upper body was cradled in the arms of Lee Crane, who was looking down at him in concern, his golden eyes filled with worry.

"Admiral, thank God. Are you all right? What happened?" Crane asked in concern, not loosening his hold. Nelson felt his world settling down, once again becoming the ordered universe that he was used to. He was warm; he noticed that he had been wrapped in one of the afghans from the back of the sofa, and he felt safe there in Crane's arms. He smiled at the anxious face above him, and lifted a hand to Crane's face, as if to wipe away the worried look.

"I'm fine, just another flashback, I think. How did you get in here so fast?" He was sure it had only been a moment ago when he had been looking out at Crane on the dock. He was puzzled by the naked anguish that appeared in Crane's eyes as the younger man helped him to his feet and to the nearest sofa. He was about to speak when Crane turned away and went toward the kitchen.

As he walked away, Nelson heard him say, "Three hours. It was three hours, just like before… and I was just as useless to you." He walked through the kitchen without pausing and went out the back door, closing it quietly. Nelson could only sit on the sofa, staring after him.

Chapter 2-

Lee Crane knew he had been acting badly since they had arrived at Nelson's cabin. In fact, he hadn't been all that great on the drive up. He was acting like a moody child but he just couldn't seem to help it. While he had tried to deal with the guilt that he felt over their mission to Turkmenistan, being with the Admiral, seeing the signs of torture on the familiar face, had brought it all back tenfold.

He had retreated to silence, and had found Nelson a willing accomplice. It had occurred to Crane that perhaps it would be good for the admiral to talk about what had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. This morning he had gone on his run, stopping at the far end of the lake to pick up some fresh baked breads that he knew Nelson enjoyed and the local paper. He had returned to find Nelson still sleeping, and had showered and dressed. He had not been able to force himself to eat, so he had simply sipped a cup of coffee as he sat watching the clouds be pushed around by the wind. He had felt the need to move, and had started outside. He knew how cold the wind was and, though while running he hadn't needed anything, he knew he would need a coat. He saw one of Nelson's old coats hanging from a hook by the door, and had slipped it on, inhaling the familiar smells of the man.

Making his way out to the dock, he had seated himself on the pier where the morning sun warmed him but did not glare in his eyes. Then he had lost himself in the beauty and tranquility of this place. It was so quiet, so peaceful. How hard it was to imagine that little more than two weeks had passed since he had been in another country running for his life, for Nelson's life. He had only to close his eyes to be back on the windy high desert of Afghanistan, playing hide and seek with Afghani bandits, and trying desperately not to worry about the unresponsive man he pushed in the cart.

He felt the wind ruffle his hair, which he had not bothered to tame it down as he usually did. It felt good to feel the cool fingers of the wind moving on him, like a benediction. He almost wanted to go swimming, but knew the water would be very cold, and he didn't have a wetsuit here. Not to mention the fact that if Jamieson found out he had gone swimming, even if he weren't scuba diving, this soon after a head injury…well, he'd be in big trouble. Nelson would probably understand, but wouldn't really approve either, and Lee found himself reluctant to do anything that would upset the other man.

He knew that several hours had passed as he sat there, listening to the birds singing, the water lapping gently, and the wind in the trees above him. He felt somehow better for having communed with nature. As if the peace of the place had sunk down into his soul. He suddenly became aware of a feeling that had crept over him, a feeling that he was being watched. He turned his head to see Nelson, standing at the window, watching him. Crane started to raise his hand to wave when he saw Nelson stagger and drop the cup he held in his hand. He disappeared from sight as he fell to the floor. Crane was up and running before he even knew it.

He had slammed through the door like a SWAT team hitting a crack house, and he had only vaguely noted that it had swung closed behind him as he flung himself over the sofa, too impatient to go around. He knelt by the side of the admiral, and reached a shaking hand to touch his carotid, letting go the breath he hadn't been aware of holding when he felt the steady, strong pulse. Nelson was pale, but not too pale, nothing like he had been when Crane had first rescued him from the interrogation chamber. He seemed to be breathing okay, but Crane still loosened his shirt by unbuttoning several buttons. He scrambled over to the sofa and grabbed the afghan that was there. He spread it over Nelson's still form. He felt Nelson's forehead, wondering if he had a fever, but his temperature seemed normal.

Having exhausted all of his medical knowledge in the situation, he began to try to figure out what to do next. He ran to his room, grabbing a pillow off his bed and his cell phone from his nightstand. The cabin had no landline phone and only had electricity because of a generator out back. He ran back to Nelson, sliding on the polished hardwood floor. He slid the pillow under Nelson's head, being as gentle as he could. He hit the speed dial number for Jamieson, and then cursed as his phone gave him an out of service tone. The cabin was in a high valley, and cellular service was spotty at best. He tossed it on the floor in frustration.

Nelson moved his head, muttering under his breath. A flashback, he was having a flashback, Crane realized. He wasn't sure there was anything that he could do beyond what he had already done. Short of carrying him out to the car and driving the two hours to the nearest hospital that is.

Crane sighed and settled down on the floor with his back against the sofa, determined to stay there with Nelson as long as it took. He put out one hand and laid it on Nelson's chest and was reassured by the slow rise and fall of the broad chest. He turned his gaze to the windows, and tried not to think of the last time he had spent time like this with Nelson. It was still too fresh, too raw. The days of running, hiding, worrying. The nights of vigilance until exhaustion would drag him unwilling into restless sleep. As he sat there, he determined that when the admiral woke up, they would speak of the experience, maybe then there would be no more need for Nelson's mind to ambush him with these flashbacks. It was the least Crane could do for the man who meant so much to him.

Almost three hours later Crane was still waiting. He had kept an almost constant check on Nelson's vitals. Assuring himself that while the man didn't come around, he seemed to be no danger. He had tried the cell phone several times to no avail, and he was just about ready to toss it through the window. His frustration and anxiety were rising with each passing minute that Nelson remained unresponsive. He snapped his head around as Nelson began tossing his head around in an agitated manner. He put a hand on the admiral's forehead, gently smoothing the mussed red hair. The agitation grew, and Crane was afraid that he would hurt himself. He wrapped his arms around Nelson and brought him up against his chest, cradling his upper body against his own. He could feel the combined warmth growing between them, and he rocked gently, hoping the motion would calm the agitated man. While Nelson became less agitated in one way, he started to moan, mumbling under his breath again. Crane began murmuring to him, nonsense things that made no sense even to Crane. He talked about Seaview, the crew, the Institute, his plans for his beach house. He talked until he was hoarse, then he couldn't stand it any longer.

He clasped the limp form closer and shamelessly begged, "Admiral ..Admiral!..Harry! Please, Harry!" And found himself suddenly looking into the clear blue eyes. There was a puzzled look in them that cleared suddenly. "Admiral, thank God. Are you all right? What happened?" Crane asked in concern. Nelson seemed in no hurry to answer, and seemed content to lie there partially on Crane's lap. The blue eyes met and held his for a moment, and he lifted a hand to touch Cane's face.

Then a smile crossed Nelson's face, and he said, "I'm fine, just another flashback, I think. How did you get in here so fast?"

Crane could only stare at him for a moment, thinking about the hours he had spent here, waiting, worrying. Nelson made a move to sit up, and Crane mechanically helped him, his mind going back over the last three hours, and three horrible hours over a week earlier, when he had taken Nelson from that room. He felt the urge to run, to get out. He managed to control it until he got Nelson to the sofa, and then he turned toward the door. Nelson's last question hung in the air between them, and was in his eyes as they searched Crane's face.

He deserved an answer. Crane owed him that. "Three hours. It was three hours, just like before… and I was just as useless to you," he snapped out and fled the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him. He began running, knowing he couldn't out run the demons that chased him from the side of the one man who might have understood what those demons were.

Chapter 3-

Nelson sat on the couch staring at the closed door. He tried to comprehend that he had been unconscious for three hours. He looked back at the floor where he had just awakened. There was a pillow, the afghan, a damp hand towel, a cushion from the other sofa, a glass of water, and a cell phone. Looking down at himself he realized that his shirt had been unbuttoned. Lee must have come in and found him there, and tried his best to revive him. He leaned forward and picked up the phone. He could see that the signal strength was way down, not unusual for this area. His attention was drawn to the window as he heard something new. It was rain.

The same wind that had blown the white cumulus clouds out earlier had blown in a storm, and the sound he had heard was that of rain beating against the window. Lee was out in that. He was still exhausted and recovering from a fever from the infection on his feet. Nelson's eyes fell on his old coat, tossed across the other sofa. Crane didn't even have the dubious protection of that old coat. Nelson rose to his feet, glad to feel no effects from his long flashback. He walked to the window, trying to see if Crane was nearby. He was disappointed when he could see no sign of the other man.

He went into the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee. Remembering the one he had held before the flashback, he looked back toward the widows and realized that Crane must have cleaned up since there was no sign of the spill. He took the coffee back to the windows and stood there watching the rain lash down; wondering where Crane had gone. Worrying.

Then he saw movement on the edge of the clearing in which the cabin stood. There was no mistaking the awkward grace of that tall, slim frame. Crane seemed to be heading toward the house, but then he stopped, standing in the rain, his head hanging. When he raised his head, he seemed to have made a decision, because he didn't continue toward the house. Instead he headed back out onto the dock, and took up his position of earlier, seemingly unmindful of the rain.

"That's not going to do at all," Nelson muttered to himself. He put the cup down on an end table and, after scooping up the old coat and putting it on, headed for the door. He trudged through the rain and out on the dock. He knew that Lee must know he was there, but he didn't make any move, didn't even look around.

Nelson's first instinct was to order the man inside, but he somehow knew that wouldn't get him very far. Instead he crouched down, and placed a hand on the slim shoulder. He could feel tremors, no doubt from the cold wet conditions. Crane sighed, and dropped his head down so that his face was hidden.

"Lad, I haven't said how much I appreciate you getting me out of there. More and more is coming back, though a lot doesn't make sense, that's probably from the drugs. I would like it… well maybe that's not the term to use, but it would be helpful to me if you would tell me what happened, everything that happened. Then maybe I could get a handle on what I see in my mind. I'm sorry to have to ask you, you would probably like to forget the whole thing."

Crane was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head, not lifting it from his arms. Nelson could barely hear his muffled voice. "I can't forget it. I won't."

"I'm sorry about that. Maybe if you had gone with someone with more recent experience…"

With that Crane's head snapped up, he turned to Nelson, and his golden eyes were blazing. "Don't say that, don't ever even think that it was in any way YOUR fault, or that it would have been different if someone else, anyone else, was in your position. You were betrayed, and tortured; nothing was your fault!"

Nelson squeezed the tense shoulder again, and spoke gently. "If it wasn't my fault, then it certainly wasn't yours. YOU saved me. YOU made sure that I would be well again. YOU kept the information that I leaked from causing irreparable harm. I think I know how hard it was for you…"

That got Crane going again. "Hard for me? What I did was nothing, and I didn't even do that well! It took me a week, A WEEK, to get you to a real doctor! You could have died a hundred times over and I could have done nothing. If those three traders had been bandits, I couldn't have done a thing except delay them for five seconds. Then when we almost meet the real bandits, all I can do is waste another day hiding." The self-condemnation that was evident in Crane's tone was too much for Nelson's temper. He reached his other hand around and grabbed Crane's other shoulder and wrenched the younger man around to face him.

"You saved my life the best way you could; now I want you to save me again. Tell me what happened, everything. I keeping remembering things that I KNOW didn't happen. But I remember having a conversation with you that I know DID. I know you weren't at Seaview's launch, but I remember talking to you there. HELP me, Lee. Help me get it straight in my mind."

Crane stared back at him, golden eyes searching his for something. He shook his head, a blush climbing up his cheeks. "You didn't know where you were, what you were saying. It didn't mean anything, I know that."

For a moment Nelson thought that Crane had been embarrassed, maybe even angry, because he didn't return the feelings. But he looked deeply into the other man's eyes, and saw in their clear depths a love and devotion that was no less than his own for it being unspoken. Nelson understood then. Lee had heard every word and knew how Nelson felt about him. He WAS embarrassed, but he was embarrassed FOR Nelson. He was upset because he had heard what Nelson had not meant to be heard.

"What I said, no matter why I said it, was how I feel, and it means a lot to me. YOU mean a lot to me. I would do anything to change the circumstances under which you were told, but I would not change a word of what I said. Not one word, Lee."

Crane blinked several times, trying to comprehend what he had heard. That Nelson was telling the truth he had no doubt, the blue eyes held nothing back. As he knelt there, eye to eye with this man that had come to mean so much to him, he felt the knot that had taken up residence in his stomach back in that interrogation room loosen. Something in those eyes said to him that it was going to be all right, that THEY were going to be all right. And he believed. He felt a smile growing on his face, and saw an answering smile grow on Nelson's face. Crane looked up into the rain, really feeling it for the first time. He felt something akin to joy rising in him. He looked back down to his friend, his father in the heart if not by blood. He let his smile become a grin.

"Could we at least go inside before we talk? I could really go for a cup of hot chocolate."

Nelson's smile grew wider, and he rose to his feet, pulling Crane with him. "I was just waiting for you, Lee." He draped an arm around Crane's shoulders and the two men started back toward the cabin.

They would talk well into the night, Nelson planned. Crane would recount the long journey out of Turkmenistan, and Nelson would share what he remembered from the flashbacks. In the end, when they at last retreated to their beds, it would be with a warm feeling in their hearts and peace in their minds. Secure in the knowledge that while the words might never be spoken again, the feelings would always be there.

The End