A/N:
Okay, so I should be finishing Butterflies, but that's just on the backburner until I can read it again without cringing. I'm sorry. I'm terrible. But I feel like I need to give back to all this spontaneous Sea Patrol Fandom love we've been experiencing. So until then, have a Mike/Kate oneshot.
"Was it worth it? In the end?" Mike has to fight hard to keep the accusation out of his voice. He so rarely gets to see her anymore. He couldn't bear to end this meeting with another fight.
"What would you have done? If it had been me?" She questions, and she's not as successful at keeping the bite from her tone as he is. She folds her arms tightly across her chest. The deep green jumper is at least three sizes too big for her, emphasising all the weight she has lost over the last few months, and the simple ponytail her hair is scraped back into makes her look as young as when they first met. But the hope, the ambition and the spark; they're all gone.
He can't imagine being in her shoes. He can't answer her and she knows that. And her lip curls slightly as though she's just scored a point, as though this whole thing is a twisted game she needs to win.
"How are you doing? In here?" He prays she's not about to give him some sarcastic answer about the library, or the holiday or the beds.
She doesn't. Instead, she shrugs. "I can look after myself." Again, she cuts off his questions with a glare, and he tries to ignore the large yellowing bruise to her temple. He hates to imagine what other injuries she's hiding under her clothes.
"You're in here because of me." He whispers softly. He leans across the table, wanting to take her hand, to feel her smooth skin against his and, for a moment, kid himself that they were anywhere but here.
But the guard standing in the corner of the room steps forwards sharply, shaking his head. "No physical contact."
Neither of them misses the irony. She was out of the Navy, and the rulebook was still against them. And his words repeat in his head, over and over. You're in here because of me. Me. Me. Me.
"I'm in here because I murdered someone." The words she spits out are ugly. He shakes his head as though, with that simple action, he can erase the past.
"No-"
"I shot him, Mike. Right between the eyes. I shot an unarmed man." She says the words coolly and calmly. In another life, she could have been telling him the how many kilos of fish sat on an FFV.
He licks his lips nervously and leans forward slightly, so that the guard can't hear him as audibly. "Kate, we could fight this. We could say-"
"I am not a liar." She shakes her head. "I have my honour still. My integrity to my moral code."
His jaw clenches tightly. She's stubborn. Too damn stubborn for anyone. Most of all, for him. "And you need to lay off Swain." She continues, rubbing her eyes tiredly. There are bags under there, worse than restless sea nights. He wonders whether she's sleeping at all here.
"Swain sent you here." His anger at his former crewmate hasn't faded yet, or at the rest of the crew for sticking up for the Coxswain.
"He begged me to put the gun down." She whispers. "He called me Kate. But it reminded me of you. Of what I'd lost." She draws her arms tighter around herself and he sees the flash of black and blue bruises on her arms too before she tugs her sleeve back down.
"He didn't have to report it. He-"
"He did what he had to. We both… we both did what we had to." She closes her eyes, and he wonders if she's hearing the bang of the gun, or the moment when the lifeless body of Anton Gorski fell to the ground. He knows he would have heard it muffled through the door, gagged and blindfolded, but in his mind he sees her pulling the trigger, sees him falling to the ground like rubbish. Bang.
"He should have lied."
"No." Her words leave no room for negotiation. "Honour. Honesty. Courage. Integrity. Loyalty."
He presses on. He doesn't want to hear anything to do with the Navy Values. Integrity flew out the window the moment he saw her slapped in handcuffs. "What about when you found I was still alive? Did you regret it then?" Her eyes… they've lost their spark. Anything that made her seem… her. "Kate-"
She stands so abruptly that the guard flinches, taking a step forward. And there's something in her eyes. A flicker of amusement, maybe, at the shock her tiny frame had caused. But he seems to decide she's not going to do anything stupid, because he doesn't move any closer.
"You can't ask me things like that." She hisses. "What do you want me to say?" She throws her hands in the air. "Why do you come here, Mike? Is it just to soothe your conscience?"
"Kate-" He says again.
"Stop saying my name like it means something!" She yells, then shakes her head as the guard approaches her. "I'm fine. We're good." She mutters to the guard, holding her hands out in surrender and taking her seat again. Then she turns back to Mike. "I can't do this anymore, Mike. I can't sit here for you to ease your guilt." She rakes a hand through her hair. "What do you want me to say? If I hadn't thought you were dead I would have never-" Her voice cracks. Bang. "But it's over now. It's all over."
"We can appeal." He begins. "We can-"
"I'm going to be here for at least the next twenty years of my life." She says the words with no emotion, like it was something she'd accepted long ago. Twenty years. She'd be fifty-six by then. He'd be ten years older. No families. No kids. God, they should be watching their grandchildren together by then. He shouldn't be waiting for her next to a prison bus. And how, when he'd seen her every day for almost four years, would he be able to cope seeing her only once a week.
"It's okay." He whispers, even though it's anything but. Bang.
"Twenty years is a long time. It's too long. You and I…" She exhales deeply. "It's not going to happen."
How could he feel so sad about her ending something that never really began? Something that he knew would never happen. "I'll wait for you." He murmurs. "I'll get my shore posting back from Max. I'll visit you every week. And when you get out-"
"Mike," She has a pitying voice, like she's about to say something that he should have figured out long ago. "I'm an ex-Navy officer in prison. Once-"
"No!" Mike croaks, suddenly realising why she's so numb to it all.
"Yes." She presses on. "Once there's an opening… a chance… they'll kill me."
"Can you stop being so damn calm about it all! Kate, please. Just…"
"I'm tired of fighting." She closes her eyes. "I'm tired of running from this. You need to accept it. Like I have."
Mike feels the prickling of tears behind his eyes. "You're not going to die in here."
The guard clears his throat. "Time's up." He says, and for a moment Mike's sure he means Kate's life before he catches sight of the clock. Kate stands obediently as the guard takes hold of her shoulder.
"You asked me if I regretted it. Killing him." She whispers. "I could never regret anything that was for you. But it came at the expense of you." Bang. A solitary tear trails down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Mike."
"I love you." He hisses, tears trickling loosely down his own cheeks now. He wants to hold her, breathe in her sent and taste her lips once more. Just once more. It seems impossible that he might never have that chance again. "I love you, Kate. You'll make it out of here."
She gives him a sad, twisted smile, and in spite of all his hopes and dreams, he knows he'll never see her again. As the guard marches her out of the room, he hears her voice. "I love you too."