October 18th, 0945 Seaview, Indian Ocean, 300 miles South, south west of Jiwana, Pakistan.

Styles stood up as soon as the little aircraft stopped moving and then he was stuck standing there for five minutes while the rest of the passengers filed out. When he was ready to go he had to wait while they passed some strange looking stretcher down. He couldn't believe they made him wait for the stretcher. Like if the Arab was going to die two minutes were going to make a difference.

He might have to check out the pilot's record after all. He would get his name later. The Navy didn't need any more rude officers; there were plenty of good officers out there who understood civilian control of the military. This young man should not be allowed to gain some position of power. The next thing would be a "Seven Days in May", a military coup.

Styles put the future of the obnoxious pilot to the back of his mind as he prepared to make his entrance. He'd never seen the Seaview, although he'd certainly heard enough about her at various committee hearings. The submarine apparently ran on money, just like the rest of the Navy. Nuclear power-the free energy, sure!

Styles was glad for the boost from the pilot down below. His wound must have weakened him even more then he realized as he had trouble with the ladder. Happily a couple of rungs from the top he felt a helping hand on his arm.

He was delighted to get to the top of the ladder and find a welcoming committee waiting for him. He recognized Johnson, head of ONI and Nelson, the owner of Seaview. Well, he should have expected this. The Navy would want to do some big time 'sucking up' after their helicopter malfunction had caused this debacle.

What he hadn't expected was the way the ship's crew had turned out for him. He'd seen pictures so he knew from the big windows that he was in the front of the sub. The large room he was in seemed to be full of officers and sailors. He could see across the room out into the corridor more just standing looking toward his arrival.

He greeted the two admirals although neither of them seemed sufficiently enthusiastic about his safe arrival. Nelson especially seemed to spend most of his time looking down into the flying sub for something. Finally, with a little prodding on his part he managed to get Nelson's attention. "This is Seaman Riley, he will conduct you to Sickbay," Nelson looked at him fully for the first time. "I understand you were wounded in the rescue?"

"Thank you Admiral, but it was just a scratch," remembering himself Styles cradled his arm in his opposite hand. "I'd appreciate getting it tended to. Let me just take a few minutes to speak to some of your crew since they were kind enough to come out to wish me welcome." Styles smiled at the Admiral who started to say something, no doubt to compliment him on his courage in the face of the pain of his wound, but then just smiled slightly and turned back to his study of the flying sub.

Styles turned to the crewmen and began shaking hands and saying hello. They all seemed quite pleased to see him. He was glad his wound was on his left arm leaving his right free for these greetings.

He noticed some of the men were distracted when the stretcher appeared coming out of the access hatch to the little flying submarine, but he'd worked some very distracted crowds in his time and knew how to keep the spotlight.

"Hello, there sailor, what's your name?" He put his left hand on the fellows shoulder as he shook his hand. "What's your job here?"

"Uh…Kowalski, sir," the seaman kept trying to look past him so Styles adjusted his position to keep his attention. "Sonar man, sir. Excuse me, sir, for a second the Skipper's going by now I need to just let him know I'm here," the sailor stepped around the Senator and reached into the passing stretcher to touch the blanket.

"Welcome home, sir," he said so softly Styles could hardly hear him. When the sailor turned back Styles would have sworn there were tears in the man's eyes.

"You know him?" Styles asked, prepared to show some compassion. The towel head must be one of those Paki's that had served with the U.S. military to gain experience.

"Yes, sir, he doesn't look very good." Kowalski quickly rubbed one of his fingers under his eye.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine. Those people are very tough," Styles reassured him, then he turned to the kid who was his guide.

"Lead on young man, but lets take our time so I can say hello to a few of these people." Styles touched the young man on the shoulder. Physical contact was very important in creating that warm connection with people for which Styles was noted.

Riley led off, but Styles was astonished to find the crowd of people disappearing. He could see down the hall, crewmen standing in door ways and intersecting corridors to touch the passing stretcher, but then they were leaving before he could get there to greet them. They must have heard he was wounded and assumed he was in the stretcher. Perhaps he could have some sort of event on the Seaview with the crew before they docked. They seemed like earnest young people, not like that pilot.

October 18th, 0950 Seaview, Indian Ocean, 300 miles South, south west of Jiwana, Pakistan.

As Chief Medical Officer of the Seaview, Will Jamieson had patched up his friend and captain often enough to know that multiple lacerations and burns were either Lee falling down a cliff into a fire or someone doing the nasty. The gunshot wound lower abdomen, well that could be bad or very bad. Since it had happened hours ago and the bleeding was stopped and he would have his hands on Lee in minutes he was feeling optimistic, very anxious, but optimistic that he could pull Lee's chestnuts out of the fire again. That throw yourself into danger and let Jamieson worry about the consequences Crane, could be saved from himself one more time.

Jamieson checked the operating theater once again to make sure everything was ready. Then he walked over to the gurney he would use for his initial examination and prep before moving Lee to the sterile theater to operate on the "GSW no exit." Everything looked ready. He ran his hands over his face tiredly and stood leaning against the wall for a moment. Oh Damn. Then he walked over to the sink and washed his hands and put on a pair of sterile gloves. It would be what it would be. He needed to separate the way he felt about his friend from what he needed to do for his patient, one more time.

Jamieson stood in the open Sickbay door looking forward. He could tell from the movement of the crewmen in the adjacent intersecting corridor that the stretcher was approaching. There was a soft whisper of sound as men touched the stretcher or blanket, as the men spoke softly to their Captain as he passed. Carefully touching, so as not to cause the man any pain, but so he would know they were there. Softly speaking, so he could hear if he was able, but so as not to disturb if he could not. Jamieson thought he could feel the emotion as it moved through the sub with the stretcher.

He didn't need to see Frank walking down the corridor, the front of the stretcher in his hands to know who was coming. The Seaview knew. The Captain was home again, Jamieson stepped into Sickbay to once again fight to keep that Captain on his boat, to keep his friend alive.

October 18th, 0950 Seaview, Indian Ocean, 355 miles South, south west of Jiwana, Pakistan.

Lee tried to keep his eyes open as the stretcher moved through the corridors. All these men had come out to wish him well; he needed to let them know he heard them. It was hard to keep his face still, to keep a small smile on his lips.

He had to give up on the smile a couple of steps past the Admiral. He really didn't want to worry the Admiral. He was pretty sure he had given him a reassuring smile. He thought he had moved the right facial muscles for that, but he hadn't gotten the feedback from the Admiral such a smile should have elicited. He suspected it was the shivering that had worried the Admiral. He couldn't seem to stop shivering.

As careful as Frank and John were every time they took a step the stretcher moved and shifted and the coarse wool blanket moved. The constant shivering kept his body in constant movement against the blanket. Much as he loved the warmth of the blankets he'd begun to fanaticize about satin sheets on open burns, surely that would be better?

By the time they left the Control Room he needed his mouth open to get enough air. Damn ribs made breathing hard. Also, the thing with burns, as Ash'ari had planned, was the residual. A knife wound hurts but unless it's a wicked wound didn't expose that much of the really nerve rich dermis to the world. Not so a burn.

A good burn, a burn created by a man who knew how to make a good burn, was a second-degree burn over a moderate amount of surface area. Too big a burn threatened to put the victim into shock, too deep a burn and the nerve cells were destroyed, no pain. The idea is not to kill the victim just cause pain. The other thing about burns is that they got more effective with passing time. Lee thought his felt like they were maturing very nicely. He could only hope Al-Ash'ari was burning where he was now. He was pretty sure he was.

Lee watched the overhead lights pass above him. He wished he could touch the bulkhead for a moment and just feel Seaview. He was sure Chip would have said something if there was any sort of a problem, but if he could just feel her engines vibrating through her bulkheads, feel the life of the boat he would know all was well.

He could smell Sickbay the moment they manhandled his stretcher through the door, an antiseptic smell normal to that space. The quietness, the separation from the life of the boat that was unique to Sickbay, the separation that he hated so much. Even Sickbay though was an improvement over the sheep shed.

The stretcher stopped moving and Lee opened his eyes looking for Jamie. He didn't have long to wait before he saw him. Poor Jamie. Lee wanted to tell him about no concussion but didn't have breath for the banter he so enjoyed with the older man, maybe later, business first. He closed his eyes again. It was just too hard to keep them open.

Frank and John were already pulling off the restraints that had held him in the stretcher when they had pulled him up from the flying sub and peeling back the blankets that had kept him from freezing to death. He could hear them talking back and forth, a background noise to Jamie's voice.

"Welcome home, Skipper. I'm going to start an IV, Lee and get some pain meds going for you and then we're going to get you out of those clothes and on another gurney so we can see what needs doing."

"Wait, Jamie," damn that didn't sound very commanding.

"Lee, you're bleeding," he had, of course, not waited. Lee could feel Jamie trying to lift his hand off the hole in his belly. He tried to fight him but a four-year-old kid could have beaten him arm wrestling just now.

Someone had a hold of his other arm and he knew the IV, was on its way. No doubt with one of Jamie's special brews of knock out drops.

"Jamie…, stop now... That's an order." Lee put everything he had learned in Annapolis and as a serving officer into that command. It still wasn't all he might have hoped for. They wouldn't have been able to hear it across the control room, but he didn't need it to carry. Jamie was inches away from him pulling at the tape that was holding him together.

"Lee, I can't fool around right now. This is serious." Jamie at least stopped pulling on his tape. The wonderful tape Toskins had applied to hold his life in his stomach. Good boy Toskins, so nice to deal with, so wise for his years. Lee concentrated on Jamie trying to get him to listen. He was starting to lose the thread as one corpsman was messing with his arm and another was doing something to the legs of his pants.

"Jamie… stop everything… now." Lee needed to stop the action so he could concentrate. He no longer had the energy to plan through the pain. That energy was all used up on Al-Ash'ari and in the back of the truck. All he wanted to do now was get warm and sleep. Let Jamie make him all better and sleep while he did it.

"Please… don't make me fight you… I can't… Just listen." Some of the desperation that Lee was feeling must have gotten through because everyone stopped. The room was quiet.

"I need… to report… Now." Lee knew how this was going to go with Jamie. "Get the Admiral…whoever is on board… from ONI." Lee had to stop again to catch his breath. At least Jamie was listening. "That's an order." Lee didn't think that last probably sounded all the martial, given the amount of effort it took to get it out.

"Lee." He could hear the anxiety in Jamie's voice.

"Don't… make this for nothing." He managed to get his eyes open again and focused on Jamie's face. "Its more important…then me…, Jamie."

He knew that for the doctor that was going to be impossible to believe. But Jamie was a Naval officer. Lee hoped that Jamie would remember that. He didn't think begging was going to get him anywhere. Begging was for when Jamie got to decide, this time he didn't, Lee decided. The commanding officer decided. "Its an order."

Even so Lee could feel Jamie hesitating. He was so accustomed to overriding Lee on health issues that he had to stop and think what to do. Lee could make a convincing argument for why Jamie had to obey him in this instance, if he had the strength and time. But he had neither. He needed to get this report made while he still could.

Jamie put Lee's hand gently back down on the tape covering his stomach and disappeared from his view. He closed his eyes and went back to pain management. A moment later he heard him on the ship's intercom calling for the Admiral and Admiral Johnson. He was surprised that the head of ONI was on board Seaview, but it would make this much easier.

"Skipper, they're on their way," He could feel Jamie messing about with his arm again. "I'm going to start you on an IV. Nothing that will interfere with your reporting," he assured him. Lee nodded his head a fraction. "We have to get you out of those blankets and dirty clothes can we do that while we wait?"

Lee shook his head slightly, "No." He needed to husband his strength, he couldn't handle the extra pain just now. "Wait." Lee felt someone pull the dirty blankets back over him. They were nasty but they were his. Beautiful blankets to keep him warm, if he could ever get warm. He stopped his wandering thoughts with an effort. Think what he was going to say in as few words as possible. Concentrate for heaven's sake, Crane, almost there.

"I got some warm blankets for you, Skipper." Lee didn't bother to open his eyes as he felt someone moving his blankets and covering him with something different, something warm and dry.

The Admiral must have already been on his way to Sickbay. He was through the door not two minutes after Jamie made the call. Lee could hear him talking to Jamie. Lee waited with his eyes closed. He was sure Jamie would tell him when both Admirals were there. No reason to think Johnson had been in route to Sickbay with Nelson.

"He ordered me to stop all treatment until he could report to you and Admiral Johnson." Lee wanted to give Jamie credit, no sound of aggrieved injustice in his voice.

"And you listened?" That was Chip. Lee opened his eyes and turned his head slightly toward the sound. It was an almost involuntary movement. Chip.

"Yes. It was an order."

Chip. Lee could see him next to the Admiral and Jamie. Their eyes met. Chip was angry.

Then he was beside Lee at the head of the gurney, no doubt already positioning himself to be out of the way of the brass but close to Lee. "Lee?" Chip put his hand on Lee's head pushing his hair back off his forehead leaving his hand on the top of Lee's head.

"Let Jamie help you, Lee," The Admiral's soft voice brought Lee's eyes from Chip's face to the Admiral's. It was so good to be home, so good to be safe.

"Johnson?" Lee asked.

"I'm here, Crane," Admiral Johnson said walking up to the gurney beside Nelson, thoughtfully not taking him to task for using no honorific. "This is Jeremy Hodges, Special Advisor to the President on Terrorism, Hodges' aide David Thornby who will be taking notes."

"Now, what is it, Lee," Nelson stepped away from Lee's shoulder and further down the gurney so Lee could see him better, speaking with the patience one shows Alzheimer victims, Lee thought. Hodges stepped up to the gurney next to Lee's shoulder. "What couldn't wait until Jamie finishes?"

Lee swallowed and concentrated on not letting his teeth chatter. He could surely control his shivering for a minute. "There's a leak… Not ONI… Not CIA…" He took a short break to catch his breath. "Someone.. who was briefed on the mission… They leaked… Not in Pakistan. High level leak… about me… the SEALS. They didn't know…about Craig, so not CIA."

Lee closed his eyes again. He hoped that would cover it if he didn't survive the surgery. Certainly, a more complete de-briefing would have been better. He thought Johnson should be able to figure it all out with that amount of information though…

Just then Al-Ash'ari stuck the knife in his arm again. "Who are you accusing of leaking?"

Lee tried to move away from the pain and called out to Ash'ari, "Enough" in Pashto. He thought they were done. He thought there were no more knives. He could hear a scramble beside him.

Ash'ari was dead? Who had cut him? Ash'ari was dead.

He opened his eyes to see Chip pushing the President's Terrorism guy across the room, his hand around the man's wrist, Chip's body between the man and Lee.

"CHIP." The Admiral's voice at his most commanding.

"Yes, Sir," Chip at his most Annapolis. Still holding on to the man's wrist.

"Mr. Hodges, you were invited here as a courtesy. You assault one of my officers again and I will bring charges," Lee thought he must be drifting again. Had the President's something on Terrorism stuck a knife in him? Had he assaulted Chip?

Jamie was hovering over him so he couldn't see what was happening. Lee closed his eyes.

"He's lost a lot of blood. I need to get him into surgery," Jamie was sounding a little desperate Lee thought. Funny because he thought he was feeling a lot better. He wasn't so cold any more, just sort of drifting now. He thought he might just keep his eyes closed. It was better. He listened for Seaview, sometimes in the quiet he could hear her so clearly.