***I just had a DC marathon with my roomie today, and it inspired an ending to this (which was desperately needed, because I actually didn't know where it was going until about 2 hours ago) and the starts of a new story. All in all, a very good day!***

Chris took a few deep breaths as she and Andy went down onto the water in a small little thing she didn't feel comfortable calling a boat. She had confidence it would run, but compared to the Time Bandit? It was like putting a kitten next to a lion. Andy led them towards the back of the boat as the crew watched anxiously from above. She checked her oxygen for the umpteenth time, a habit she was in ever since the time she'd gone out, hadn't checked, and didn't have as much oxygen as she should have. She was a bit overzealous with the checking now. Just as she was about to flip over the side, Andy grabbed her arm. "Be careful."

Chris held his gaze for as long as she could, but something about having his hand on her elbow and matching that intense stare with Mike watching made her feel dirty. Which was ridiculous really. "He's the damn captain. He's looking out for you. Stop it," she ordered herself, giving Andy a nod. With that, she took one last, calming breath, and flipped over the side.

The moment when the water first hit your body was the first of three things Chris hated about cold water dives. Until she started jumping into the Bering for a paycheck, she'd always preferred being too cold to too warm. Not so much anymore. Once her body was reasonably adjusted to the shocking temperature change, she made her way to the propeller.

"Fuck," she thought, looking at how tightly the rope was wrapped. She studied it for as long as she dared, trying to figure out the key cuts to make to free the prop. Hacking away wouldn't do a damn thing if she didn't plan it right. She blinked a few times, feeling strangely calm in the deathly quiet of the water. Down here, there was no Mike, no Andy, no Deadliest Productions. Down here, it was just a woman with a knife, cutting at a seriously tangled rope.

If her calculations were correct, she actually had about half a tank left when she watched the rope float away from the prop. She smiled as widely as she could around her mouth piece and headed for the surface. This was the next part she hated about cold-water dives. Resurfacing. You never realized just how cold the water was until you got out of it. She spit her mouthpiece out just as her head broke the surface, and Andy's relieved face greeted her as he hoisted her onto their boat.

"Took you long enough."

"Sh-sh-shut up-p-p," she chattered, rubbing her arms to get some blood flow. "I h-had plenty of-f-f air."

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing her arm with one hand as he hooked the boat to be hoisted back onto the deck. She nodded absently, like she hadn't really heard him.

"J-just c-cold," she assured him, climbing onto the deck first. Mike was there in an instant, catching her just before her knee sent a wave of pain coursing through her. Ah, yes, the third thing she hated about cold water dives.

"Get her into the shower," John ordered. Chris pushed Mike off of her.

"I can handle this," she snapped. "I'm not a b-baby, g-guys!"

"You're shaking and can't talk. Let me help you," Mike insisted, following her through the galley. She whirled on him in the doorway to the bathroom, catching herself on the doorframe so she didn't lose her balance and her credibility all in one motion.

"If you touch this wetsuit, I'll shove you overboard. I shower by myself."

"I…woah, hey," he held his hands up defensively. "I wasn't even going there. You just made this, like, 20 times dirtier than I was."

Chris rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair before disappearing into the bathroom. She set a lukewarm shower, not wanting to warm up too fast and shock her system in the opposite direction. She felt bad wasting the crew's hot water when, really, she would be perfectly fine. She was expertly trained in cold water diving, after all. This was nothing; that's why she'd volunteered just minutes after facing death. That's why she'd pushed herself away from…

"Stop it," she ordered her brain, refusing to think about Andy right now. Somehow, that simple hug had been more intense than anything she had felt with Mike, and that thought bothered her the most as she dried herself off, wrapped the towel around herself, and exited the bathroom. With that thought lingering, Mike nearly scared the shit out of her. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you. I…brought clothes," he said sheepishly, holding out her softest pair of sweatpants, Kenny Chesney t-shirt, and her favorite old zip up Coast Guard hoodie. She took the clothes gratefully, not pointing out that there was a distinct lack of underwear in his peace offering. Men never think of these things.

"Thanks," she smiled, kissing him gently on the forehead. "Can I change in your room?"

"Sure," he nodded, leading her to it. He pushed the door open and made sure Eddie wasn't there before motioning her in. "I'll be outside."

"You can stay," she shook her head. "Just, no peaking." He held up his hands and made a show of turning around. She threw the clothes on quickly, glad her hoodie was at least baggy. "Okay," she yawned. "Thanks."

"Why don't you sleep in here?" Mike suggested. "Andy called off fishing, and you look exhausted."

"Why'd Andy call off fishing? Everything's good to go," Chris frowned.

"I dunno. Probably freaked him out too much. Who knows? Who cares? Get some sleep," he insisted, pushing her lightly towards the bed. "You need it."

"Mike, I'm fine," she mumbled as she discovered just how amazing a real bed actually was. "But maybe I'll stay here for a minute."

"You're still shaking," he murmured. "You want another blanket?"

"M'fine," she shook her head. Mike rolled his eyes at the standard answer, unzipped his hoodie, and crawled in the bed next to her, her back to his stomach. She closed her eyes as he pulled her hips towards him and wrapped his hoodie around her arm.

"Better?" he asked. She murmured something that may or may not have been English and relaxed into his body, deciding that she could get used to this treatment very easily.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been lying there when Mike next murmured to her. Maybe she'd drifted off to sleep and his voice woke her back up, or maybe it was only a few seconds later. Sleepiness has a way of messing with your head like that.

"I love you, Chris."

She heard him, plain as day. The urge to answer him was there, but she swallowed her words. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and made sure to keep her breathing perfectly even. He probably expected her to be asleep, anyway.