Someone Familiar?
They had been floating for hours, dipping and moving with the swells and waves.
Both were tired and tormented by thirst and uncertainty of their situation and that of their friends.
Nathan worried silently about the southerner's injury. There seemed to be nothing broken, but there was a lot of internal bleeding in the area and if it swelled up Ezra's breathing could be impaired. He'd admonished him not to talk, but that was like asking a monkey not to scratch.
"Ah saaaw somfin..."Standish turned sluggishly his whole body pulling Nathan with him.
"A fin?!" Nathan felt the blood rush from his face.
"Tell me Nathan." Ezra said in his harsh whisper. "D'ya fink sharks like white meat or dark?"
"Oh shut up Ez." Nathan splashed the man, but managed to grin through split lips. "White, I hope."
"Me too." Standish breathed almost silently and began to peer hopefully at the horizon.
"Shut up." This time Nathan meant it. "You ain't in any condition to speak." Nevertheless he too began to look around nervously. "Hey, you are right! I see something too. But it looks like a boat!" With only a glance towards one another the men began a frantic crawl towards what might be rescue.
****
"Hijo de Madre!" Paco the Smuggler swore with feeling. Here he was on the verge of his first good break in a long time. His cousin Raouf had arranged for him to do some real smuggling, for real money. No more penny ante stuff with fake Marlboros and counterfeit Finlandia vodka from Russian sailors. He was going to running guns and drugs! With a cartel from Bogota no less! He'd dumped his silent assistant, Pedro, and was going to hog all the glory and Yankee dollars for himself. But it was Pedro who had kept the engines running and now his boat was lying dead in the water, the motors swamped in the recent storm. He was late for the rendevous. Things were not looking good. He gave the motor a swift kick and swore again.
****
Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane had returned to the Seaview to find four men in the brig and one in sickbay. Smugglers had been the considered opinion from O'Brian. Morton was more reserved and had done some checking with the Coast Guard. The Peeps had been reluctant, but did say that an ATF team was overdue for a radio check.
"Well, well, well...don't you look natural in that brig." Lee Crane said sternly eyeing the scruffy looking lot crammed into the little cell.
"Crane!" Larabee spat out.
"That's Captain Crane to you." He replied tightly. Riley, behind him hefted his rifle threateningly.
"Figgered you'd end up on a garbage scow." Buck cut in.
"Haven't you gotten rid of him yet?" Lee nodded to Buck who was fuming.
Chris shrugged. "You gonna let us out. I got two men to find."
Crane gestured to Riley to open the cell door. He did cautiously. The Skipper seemed to know these guys, but didn't seem too friendly.
The leader of Team 7 and the Captain of the Seaview eyed each other and then their hands reached out in a strong clasp.
"Hell of a spot for a reunion." Buck said grinning as he gave the Captain a none too gentle shove on the shoulder.
"I agree!" Crane said and smiled. "What has it been - ten years?"
"You know each other?" JD broke in and tried a glare at Riley.
"We met at SEAL training." Chris explained.
"Friendly rivals." Lee said and both men grinned toothily, the kind of look that two Alpha males give each other on a piece of turf only big enough for one.