Beta-read by Saberlin.
This takes place within an hour or so of the conclusions for "Foreign" and "Pain".
-J-
Joker really hated his condition sometimes. Most of the time, he played it off—what else could he do? But still, it stung a bit to have to sit out on the fun-looking sports. It was worse in public schools than as an adult, though. And there were some strange sports practiced aboard the Normandy.
Shepard played racquetball. His only experience with racquetball came from an old sort-of-girlfriend's enthusiasm for the sport. Alenko liked to kayak, but Alenko had weird taste in sports and/or hobbies. Before enlisting Williams had, unsurprisingly, played lacrosse and field hockey. He knew all this from having been in the mess during the 'sports' discussion with the ground team.
He had declined to chip in, and received digs in the ribs from Williams for it.
And he was pretty sure (though he could not prove it) that Williams could not swim. At all. Just something he'd picked up once or twice in overheard conversation, given her derision for swimming as a sport. People who hated it usually were not very good at it.
After Pressly's announcement that it was just him and the crosswords, Joker knew he was not so badly off, with regards to not being particularly sporty. If anyone needed a sport it was Pressly—something to help him work through that neurotic streak of his.
Joker himself would feel better if Pressly took up a sport, so when it came to sink-or-swim time while piloting the Normandy, the navigator might ease up on the pilot doing all the hard work.
He dropped his bag onto the locker room floor. It was late so the pool, while open, would not likely be in use. The painstaking process of getting changed and prepared to use the pool in the first place always went easier if the room was not packed with people. People did not bother him, but they had tripped over his crutches before (and several came close to being concussed by said crutches).
There was no one in the pool.
Scratch that. There was a lifeguard (who looked half-asleep in his chair—better not let the pool manager see that) and…
He watched her jump from the high platform, execute two almost lazy flips, before hitting the water with a force that made him ache just to watch it. She made it look easy.
He could not help a single straying thought of what it would be like if he hit the water that hard. Shuddering he got himself over to one of the lanes for lap swim. The diver did not pay any attention as she—in her dark cherry-red suit—climbed out of the water and headed confidently back over to the platform, and made her way up the ladder.
Whatever floated your boat.
Joker eased into the water, leaning his elbows on the deck as he prepared to pull his goggles on. Initially, his philosophy on swimming (as a child with no choice in the matter of learning how to do it) was that he swam to live, he did not live to swim, and 'sink or swim' was a good mantra to remember.
Things were different as an adult. He eased the rest of the way into the water and started forward. Swimming was as good, better, than anything zee-gee. It was a weightless environment (good for the legs) but he still got the workout (good for the shoulders).
Even as he changed directions, somewhat clumsily as he had to stop swimming to change directions, he heard the diver hit the water again. Water conducted sound better than anything else, so there was no real escape from the bone-shattering sound. If the pool was full, it would not matter, but since it was not…
Sink or swim. As much as he enjoyed swimming, if he stopped working his arms he would sink.
Cool water continued gliding over his skin. On any other day, he might have had a lap counter, or something to help keep track of them, but seeing as how he did not care how far he went, so long as some of the stir-craziness of being trapped on a spaceship wore off, he did not care.
He surfaced at his starting point again, to find the diver already on the platform. He leaned back against the wall of the pool, elbows on the deck for balance and watched her. He was no judge of diving technique, but it looked pretty solid and flawless to him. So when she hoisted herself out of the deep water, onto the deck and went for her towel, he gave something like a golf clap. Artistry should, after all, be appreciated.
She stopped, turning around. From this distance her features were hard to make out, but once she had her towel wrapped around her waist she grinned…
He knew that stance, even before she laughed. He'd seen it quite a few times, even if it looked a bit different when she didn't have her clothes on.
He winced, making a mental note never to let that sentiment with that wording slip out by accident, or he would end up deader than last week's mystery meat. He was not Alenko, and could not get away with such slips of the tongue. He had not yet figured out why Alenko's slips were (apparently) 'cute' while his slips were fodder for retaliation and rebuttal (not that Joker minded).
"Heya Joker," Williams waved cheekily at him. Her dark hair, not in a tight bun, but braided with the braid doubled up, fell free of the restraining cap as she pulled that article loose.
He waved back mutely. Who was so sure Williams couldn't swim? He watched her pad into the locker room, unable to reconcile one of the tougher women of his acquaintance with a graceful high-diver.
Sink or swim.
This was definitely a 'sink' kind of day.
Joker took a deep breath before returning to swimming laps. The things you never knew about people.
