Thanks to everyone for all the great reviews - they really keep me going! Sorry for the long delay between updates; work got a little crazy for awhile, but things have calmed down recently. Alright - on with the story!


"I got stuck in the bite…"

The crew worked on into the night, simultaneously pulling and resetting pots. Phil had put most of his pots in the first string, and after pulling such good numbers, he decided to set a few more in the same area. He felt good about the numbers he was seeing here; in his first string, they'd caught eighty-seven crabs, average, per pot. Phil was trying not to get too excited; he had seen how crab would move out of an area practically overnight, and if a captain couldn't follow them, he'd be right back to pulling blanks and baitfish. For now, though, he was satisfied. He yawned deeply, rubbing his eyes. Man, I could really use some sleep.

"Alright guys, let's pack it up for a couple hours and get some sleep before we do the other string. I want to get a lot of soak time on the ones we just set." Phil sat back in his chair and hung up the speaker as Murray came up the stairs into the wheelhouse. Taking the other seat, Murray kicked back and took a sip from his coffee cup.

"Lookin' pretty good, huh, Phil?"

"Sure is, Murray, sure is. I don't want to get too worked up here, but I have to say, I'm pretty pleased." Phil stood up and stretched his arms above his head, yawning again. He twisted to the side a bit, trying to work out a tight muscle, when he felt a twinge in his back. Before he could react, the twinge turned into a searing pain and he doubled over, gripping his back with one hand. Murray hurriedly put his coffee cup down, sloshing coffee on the counter, as he ran over to Phil's side. Phil gasped as the pain washed over him again like a wave.

"Phil? What happened?" Murray gently placed a supporting hand on Phil's arm.

"God, I don't know," Phil croaked out. His face was contorted with pain. "This feels like that old back injury I got years ago, but it hasn't ever acted up this bad." He drew in a sharp breath. "It feels like I got stabbed or something."

Murray glanced down at the deck. Seeing Dagmar coiling up some extra hook line, he grabbed the speaker off the wall and spoke into it.

"Dagmar?" She looked up at the wheelhouse, surprised at Murray's voice instead of Phil's. Murray tried to use a calm tone so he wouldn't alarm the other deckhands. "Can you come up to the wheelhouse please?" Dagmar must have sensed the urgency in his voice, because she immediately put the line down in an empty crate. Murray watched her hustle across the deck to the door downstairs. She bounded up into the wheelhouse only a moment later, having quickly shed her boots and raingear. When she saw Phil bent over and Murray supporting him, she hastily crossed the distance between them and knelt next to Phil, placing a hand on his side.

"Phil? What happened?" Dagmar asked gently. She didn't want to worry him, but he looked like he was in a lot of pain. He took in a short, ragged breath.

"I was just stretching and I messed up my back. I broke it years ago, and –" Phil stopped abruptly as another sharp pain racked his body. Without thinking, Dagmar gently placed a cool hand along the side of his face, his short whiskers brushing her palm, as she tried to assess what was going on. At her soft touch, Phil glanced up into her concerned face, and from the way his eyes were shining dangerously, Dagmar knew he was seriously hurt. She instinctively pressed her forehead to his, drawing his focus to her and away from the pain in his back. She tried to keep her breathing calm and even as she reached around Phil, sliding her hand up under his long-sleeved t-shirt. She ran her practiced hand down his spine, searching for the offending bone or muscle. Feeling a long surgical scar down the middle of his back, she slowed down. It was a good seven inches long, straight down the center of his back.

"Is this where you're hurting?" Dagmar asked softly, her lips close to Phil's ear. The silky brown and grey hairs at his temple tickled her cheek as she lightly ran her fingers over his scar.

"Yeah, it feels like I slipped something. I don't know what the deal is," he said quietly, trying not to move. Dagmar murmured acknowledgement in his ear as she continued to probe his injury. She brought her other hand up to his neck, tenderly stroking his hair, and he leaned slightly on her, laying his head against her shoulder. He could smell the familiar scent of leather and peppermint again, and it soothed him.

Murray had quietly stepped back to let Dagmar move closer to Phil, and he felt like he should leave, as if he were intruding on something deeply personal for the two of them. He didn't want to leave Dagmar if she needed any help moving Phil, though, and Murray also needed to make sure his old friend was alright. He cleared his throat and Dagmar looked up at him. She nodded and gently brushed Phil's hair back with her fingers.

"Do you think you can get down the stairs to your stateroom?" she asked. "Murray and I'll help you." Phil took in a deep breath and nodded. Murray moved to his side to help him stand up.

"Slowly, now. No sudden motions." Dagmar and Murray gently but firmly helped Phil unfold himself from the floor. Dagmar stole a glance at Phil's pained face; she could tell that he was trying not to cry out as his back straightened against its will. Murray guided Phil toward the stairs as Dagmar clambered down ahead of them and opened the door to Phil's stateroom, which was just to the right of the stairs. She reached up to grab Phil's hand as he took the stairs one at a time with Murray's help. When he'd reached the bottom, it was only a few steps to the door of his cabin. He began to double over again, but forced himself to stay standing as Dagmar and Murray led him inside. Dagmar nodded to Murray, indicating that she could take it from here. As Murray closed the stateroom door behind him, Dagmar knelt in front of Phil again. With alarm, she noted that his eyes were glassy and full of pain. Still supporting him, she helped him sit on the edge of the bed.

"Phil, I need to take your shirt off, okay? Can you put your arms up a bit?" Phil obeyed, raising his arms to allow Dagmar to gently pull his t-shirt over his head. She tossed it aside, placing her arm around his bare back.

"I'm just going to have you lie down on your side, okay? Facing the wall." Without answering, Phil began to lower himself down on the bed. Dagmar quickly moved to help him, arranging the pillow under his head. His demeanor worried her; although she hadn't known him very long, she could tell that this was serious. She knew he was a tough old sea dog, and most of the guys who'd fished for any length of time wouldn't let anyone know they were in pain unless it was pretty severe. Dagmar leaned down to whisper in his ear as she moved her hands over his smooth back.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm going to make this better." Phil's breathing grew more relaxed at her words.

"I know," he replied, his voice gravelly. He sighed imperceptibly at her soft touch, at her cool hands on his hot skin.

As she ran her fingertips over the scar, Dagmar couldn't help but notice how well-muscled Phil's back and arms were. He hadn't worked on deck in a long time, but the years he'd been out there hauling pots had stayed with him, and his body looked much younger than it was. Suddenly, she felt a spot on his back that was very hot to the touch; the muscle next to one of his vertebrae was constricted and tight. She lightly began to work on the clenched muscle, encouraging it to relax so she could figure out what the problem was with Phil's spine.

"What happened to you – why'd you have to have this surgery?" Dagmar asked, trying to keep Phil's mind off of the throbbing in his back. She could actually feel the blood pulsing angrily under her fingers.

"I got stuck in the bite between two pots when I was long-lining on a boat below the chain," Phil replied haltingly, trying to breathe normally as Dagmar worked at his back. "Ended up getting hit by a pot and trapped between two others. The other guys had to cut the long-line to get me out of there, and by that time, my back was so screwed up the skipper insisted on driving straight to Anchorage to take me to the hospital. The docs didn't think I was going to walk again, but they managed to mostly put me back together." Dagmar nodded. Long-lining involved dropping a series of pots that were all connected by a single line; lots of guys fished that way for brown king crab in the shallower waters below the Aleutian island chain. It was possibly even more dangerous than fishing with single pots, because when the long-lined pots were pulled off of the boat and into the water, it was extremely easy to get caught in the bite, even for an experienced fisherman.

"Feels like you crushed a vertebra here?" Dagmar gently rubbed the offending knob of bone that stuck out farther than the others. Phil nodded. Dagmar continued to move down his back, taking note of the various scrapes and scars that covered his body. She found herself wanting to know about each one; wanting to know more about this interesting man. She was so close to giving herself to him, telling him about the feelings she had for him, but something held her back. Instead she tried to focus on identifying the source of his pain, determining if it was skeletal as well as muscular. Exploring the area around the scar, she went back to the injured muscle; with only a bit more investigation, she realized that the muscle was putting strain on the bones of his spine, threatening to pull them out of alignment. Ordinarily, such a tight muscle would only cause some discomfort, but because Phil had injured his back in that area in the past, the muscle was affecting an already weak spot. Using both hands, Dagmar began to concentrate on getting the muscle to relax as it contracted under her touch.

"Can you pull your legs into your chest a bit more? Just slightly, now." Dagmar guided Phil's legs in towards his chest until he was in a relaxed fetal position. "I'm almost there." With his back a little more stretched out, she had much better access to the offending muscle. With a final stroke, she felt the muscle unwind and loosen; they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God." Phil didn't want to move, although the pain had subsided immensely. He continued hugging his knees to his chest, his body now relaxed and calm.

"You don't have to move, because I'm not letting you get up for at least a few hours," Dagmar smiled, using her matronly voice. "I'm going to go and grab a heating pad and some water."

She returned quickly, carrying the rectangular electric blanket and a large cup of water from the galley. She held the water for Phil to take a drink, and helped rearrange his pillow under his neck as he lay back down. Plugging in the cord, she draped the blanket over his side and tucked it in around his sore back. Phil turned his head to look back at her over his shoulder.

"Now I really feel like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest," he said, his voice gravelly. Dagmar laughed as she rubbed his arm.

"You're going to be just fine." She looked down at him, and suddenly she was glad that he was facing away from her and he couldn't see her face. She gulped silently, trying to keep the tears brimming in her eyes from spilling over. God, Dagmar, what is your deal right now? She wasn't used to feeling this emotional; all she wanted to do was lie down next to Phil and wrap her arms around him, to feel his warmth next to her. Not being able to do that was killing her - she had to get away. Standing up quickly, she stumbled back from the bed. Phil turned to look at her again, quizzically. Dagmar couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'll – I'll come back later to check on you," she choked out, trying not to let him see how upset she was. Stealing one last glance at him, she stumbled out of the room, brushing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Heading straight to the bathroom, she quietly closed the door behind her, sitting on the closed toilet and cradling her face in her hands.

It had frightened her to see Phil hurt so badly, but there was something more to it than that; she'd had countless patients come to her with severe pain. With Phil it was different – Dagmar's heart ached for him, and it scared her; she hadn't felt this way about anyone in a long time. Lifting her head, she stared up at her splotchy, tear-streaked face in the mirror; her hair stood up in all directions, and her eyelashes were stuck together, forming little salty stars. She shook her head at her reflection, smirking a little at how pathetic she looked. Standing up, she leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on her hot cheeks. Patting her skin dry, Dagmar looked in the mirror again. Why are you so scared of these feelings? She narrowed her eyes, staring piercingly at herself. Do you love him? Sighing deeply, Dagmar began to suspect that the answer to that question was yes.