Part 1: Acceptance

He finds her on the boat deck. Her tiny frame is slumped, her elbows resting on her knees. It is late and he knows nobody will venture along the deck for at least another hour. He knows she would not be there otherwise.

He watches her silently, knowing better then to intrude upon her emotion turmoil. She needs a moment, and he knows his presence will cost her. He bites his lip as he quells the frustration coiling in his abdomen. He hates that his presence would burden her, when all he wants to do is relieve her sadness.

But he doesn't want to be alone tonight.

And some days he is not the hero he wants to be.

He crosses the distance in three quick strides, purposely knocking against the Hammersley's exterior to alert her to his presence. She has managed to dry her eyes by the time he reaches her, and she looks at him in confusion as he slides down the bulkhead.

"Sir," she greets professionally, but his trained ear can hear the rawness underneath her words.

"Kate," he greets in return, purposely using her first name to inform her he is there on a personal note. His voice is barely audible, however, over the hum of the engines and the churning of the sea.

The silence reigns as she stares into the ocean.

"It's not your fault Mike," she ventures softly. He does not turn to face her as he watches the sea swirl around them.

His crew.

His sailors.

His responsibility.

"It's not your fault," she repeats, a gentle hand resting softly on his forearm.

He turns to face her but she diverts her gaze back to the sea.

She is hurting.

And he knows she does not want him to see it.

"What are you doing out here?" he finally asks, turning his gaze towards her. She continues to keep her eyes trained on the distance, but he can see the unshed emotion glistening under her steely exterior. She takes a deep breath, which makes her whole body shudder, before she turns to him, obviously having grown restless under his relentless stare.

"Thought I would give Nikki some time," she replies, her voice tightly controlled.

They have all pretended not to hear their Navigator's muffled sobs in the dead of night.

He hears her breath hitch as she chokes back a sob, and he suddenly feels his hands frame her face, bringing her lips to his with a desperation he has never felt before.

He feels her body stiffen in shock, but he refuses to let her back away, desperately clinging to her form.

She forcefully pushes him back, her eyes burning with ferociousness as she stares at him. He watches as the emotions flit through her steely orbs. Regret. Anger. Hatred. Sadness. Guilt. She looks away, and he knows he had just shattered their fragile status quo.

Then her eyes flick back to him.

Something has changed.

With shock clarity, he realizes why she is out here.

"You knew I would come looking for you," he asserts softly, realizing she has had the upper hand the entire time. She does not look away and her eyes confirm his statement.

"I don't want to be made love to," she asserts coldly, the grief barely suppressed in her tone.

She is punishing herself he realizes.

She wants to be hurt.

He takes a deep breath.

So does he.

Because this is his fault.

He looks into her eyes.

"Tonight," he replies, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to be alone."

She nods at his words.

Offer Accepted.