***If I counted right (which I'm about 95% certain that I did) there are 3 chapters left after this one. Which somehow sounds wrong; that number might go up. I'm going to look at my ending again and see if it feels rushed or needs something…extra. We'll see what happens, and I'll keep you guys posted. Thanks for reading and reviewing! And you know the disclaimer, I'm sure***

"Where's that dumbass of yours?" John grumbled, squinting through the rain-covered window at his deck. Chris looked up from her camera and mumbled that she had no idea. John picked up the hailer and snapped, "Where's Frank?" to his crew. Russ yelled something that only John understood, and he rolled his eyes and motioned downstairs.

"Puking," John explained. "Sucks for you. There's some damn good crabbing going on out there."

Chris sank back in her chair wearily, knowing John was right. They'd been on amazing numbers in this area, and Discovery always wanted footage of the extremes- the best fishing and the worst fishing, the best weather and the worst weather, the most dangerous accidents and the most amazing saves. Frank might have been legitimately sick, which she could hardly hold against him, but not being able to hold your lunch down because of a few waves was no excuse for leaving the deck. All the fishers were out there, she would be if it was her job, and it was just demoralizing to everyone for him to be gone. He better be damn sick, or else she'd shove a camera in his hands and tell him to puke over the side between shots. It's what everyone else did.

A quick check confirmed that, while he'd live, Frank wasn't in the best shape. Even at her most violent and heartless of moments, Chris wouldn't have forced him back out there. Instead, she made a deal with him. He'd go up in the wheelhouse with John, who was unsurprisingly quiet when the greenhorn was around, and she'd go out on deck. She missed it out there, anyway. Sitting in the wheelhouse with John and Andy was fun, more fun than it had been last season, but she missed the action of facing the Bering head-on.

"John doesn't talk to me."

"John doesn't talk to anyone until he gets to throw firecrackers at you or you almost die."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Frank frowned. Chris shrugged.

"It didn't help me any, but it's true. Now, go tell him I'll be out on deck," she ordered.

With Frank taken care of, Chris popped some more Advil, put her deck clothes on, grabbed their outdoor camera, and headed outside. It felt good to be back on deck, even if her knee protested, and the guys seemed happy enough to see her. Scotty threw a crab at her when he saw her, Eddie said something about her finally doing her job instead of sitting around, and Russ asked where the chick came from. Yes, it was good to be back on her boat.

It had been maybe an hour of great fishing when the wave came over the rail. John had warned them, but, when holding a camera, there's only so much you can do. Chris hoped she was in a good spot, but as soon as she saw the wave, she knew she was going to hit the deck. So, she protected her head and her camera as best as she could, stayed on her feet for as long as possible, and braced for impact. Hitting the deck mostly hurt her shoulder and her hip, but being washed into the opposite wall was what hurt her knee. She'd expected the force of the wave to die out before then, but her leg had jammed into it. She stayed on the deck for a minute, not sure she would be able to stand up, but when Scotty offered his hand, she hauled herself to her feet. Two shaky steps later, she felt it give out under her and grabbed the rail right before she went down. She mumbled something to Scotty about needing more film and limped inside, hoping no one was watching.

She grabbed her Ace Wrap, let out a string of curse words, pulled her sweatpants off so she was just in her shorts, and eased herself onto the bench in the galley with her leg sticking straight out. It was an odd angle, and if anyone came inside, she was busted, but she knew from experience that the counter was out. She'd learned that the floor was never an option. This would just have to do. She was just about to start when familiar hands took the wrap from her.

"I got it," Andy assured her quietly, bending down to prop her leg up on his knee. "S'it hurt?"

"Like hell," she nodded. "I jammed it…"

"Against the wall. Yeah, I was watching. I figured you'd come in to wrap it. You okay to go back out?"

"I'll be...shit…" she swore as he started to wrap. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just stitch me up, doc."

Andy rolled his eyes and smirked. "John thinks I'm in the bathroom, so you owe me for the ridicule I'm getting for this."

"I thought you told him everything," she frowned, wincing slightly at the pressure needed to wrap her knee properly.

"Not this," Andy shook his head, focused on his task. "I gave you my word that I wouldn't tell anyone, and my word's pretty important to me."

"So…you didn't tell him." Andy shook his head. "He thinks we almost kissed…what, just messing around?"

"I kind of glazed over that bit," Andy shrugged. After a minute, he cleared his throat. "I'm surprised Mike didn't throw a fit about you coming back out after you told him this."

"Yeah, I, uh," she rubbed the back of her neck. "I kind of glazed over that bit, myself." Andy smirked. "We don't really talk about the past much."

"So, I'm the only one who knows?"

"You, my squad, my family, and my best friend, all of whom started watching this show because of me. And Dezzi would like to be set up with your nephew, FYI."

"I'll see what I can do," Andy smirked, taping up the wrap. "You should tell him."

"Mike?" she frowned. "Nah. No. I don't…I don't think so. It's…that's…" That's what? Too personal? She'd told him she loved him nearly 8 months ago. The accident was a major part of her life; it's what brought her to the boat and to him. "No, I don't think so. I don't think it's that big a deal."

"If it wasn't that big a deal," Andy rolled his eyes, "you'd tell him. The fact that you won't…maybe you should think about that. I mean, you told me."

"Yeah, well, that's you," she rolled her eyes. "You're…" she stopped before she said something stupid. Something that would take them down a road they needed to avoid to make this season work. Andy looked at her warily, but she shook her head.

"Help me up," she ordered. Andy rolled his eyes and mumbled something about how demanding she was, which made her laugh. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, but neither of them pulled away once she was up. Their eyes had locked, and his eyes never failed to hold some kind of power over her.

"I told him I loved him after last season." Andy looked away. "But I don't know if I really do. I only told him that because I was just…so pissed off at you. I was furious, and I thought that being with him would help. I just can't understand why you won't fight for me."

"Why is that so important to you?"

"A girl won't stick around if she's not wanted. Every time I try to get something real out of you, you put up all these walls. I can't live like that. I know you care, and you show it sometimes, but the small things you do just confuse me more."

"Have you slept with him?"

"That's an appalling question, Andy," she shook her head, but she obviously wasn't appalled at all. They were too open with each other, had too much between them, for any of his questions to bother her anymore. "I haven't. It's…come up, but…I haven't."

"Think maybe we're both a little stuck?" Andy asked softly, giving her smallest of smiles. She reflected it back at him.

"I guess we are."

She leaned towards him, maybe to kiss him, maybe to hug him, maybe just to head outside. She really had no idea what she was doing. Something just told her to lean towards him. Their eyes were still locked, and Andy leaned to meet her.

He broke from the spell first, and pulled away with a sigh. "Chrissy…no. I'm not that guy." She immediately stepped back, both out of embarrassment and the need to get away before his latest rejection came out of his mouth. She didn't need to hear any more excuses.

"You were in February," she snapped, grabbing her camera. Her anger wasn't really at Andy, who was just doing the gentlemanly thing. She was mad at herself. Everything about them made her mad at herself. Often at Andy, but always herself.

"That was…" Andy started, but she shoved her way by him and opened the door.

"Just save it," she shot over her shoulder, ready to leave. She didn't want him to give her yet another excuse, tell her that things were different then or that it was a mistake. Because to her, that kiss was the most honest thing that had ever passed between them. Before she could close the door, though, he grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Would you stop walking away from me?" he hissed, glancing out to make sure they weren't attracting attention before glaring at her. "I don't know what you want from me, Chrissy, but I can't do it for ya. You've got yourself a damn good life goin' on, and I don't know why you want me screwing it up."

"I don't even understand what the fuck that means," she grunted, struggling and failing to break her arm free. "I wanted you to stop thinking about Mike and go for what you want, and I think you've done that. I've given you enough chances, haven't I? I mean, I asked you flat out if you loved me or not, for Christ's sake! It doesn't get bigger than that. So…" she heaved a sigh and ran her free hand through her hair, "yeah, I think we are stuck. We're stuck because we had a chance to be something but we missed it, and now we're too stubborn to cut our losses and move on. So I guess," she used the shock value of her words to break her arm free of Andy's grasp, "that this is it. I can't do this anymore. It's not fair to anyone. I'm happy with Mike; he doesn't drag my heart through the mud on a daily basis, you know? It's a good life. And you," she took a step back so she was back out on the deck, "deserve to be that happy, too. So we need to figure out a way to work together through the end of the season, and I'll request a new boat after that. It's not fair to either of us for me to stay any longer than that."

"You're…really going to leave…just like that?"

"Just like that," she nodded sharply, eyes on his chest. "It's better for both of us. Now, I need to get to work." She slammed the door before he could say anything that she would be foolish enough to stay for.