A Father's Love

by writtenrhythm

Dom Santiago lost everything in the war against the locust. Fifteen years later his daughter, Sylvia Santiago, emerges under a new name. Will they recognize each other? And, more importantly, will they forgive each other?

44. No and Where

Romgar Military Research Base

Ten Years After E-Day

"Let me remind you that standard operating procedures are not a suggestion. You will maintain one-hundred-meter intervals, you will clear a kill zone as fast as you can, you will not stop in a kill zone to rescue anyone, and if you find yourself trapped in a kill zone, you will use maximum firepower."

- Colonel Victor Hoffman directing a convoy through Locust-infested territory

Bri obediently stayed on board the Raven until Ace and his team had faded out of sight, then she defiantly unclipped her belt and leapt onto the bluff with glee.

Sure, there would be hell to pay for this. But this was exciting. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would end up so far from Ephyra. Civilians simply didn't leave the city. There wasn't much of the world left to see. But here, even the air smelled different. It was clean, smudged with the slightest twinge of sulfur and salt.

"Thought you weren't supposed to leave the Raven?" Kenyon, their pilot, asked her with a cocked eyebrow. He stood in the open bulkhead, lighting a cheroot cigarette.

"I won't tell if you won't."

"That only works if I don't have a reason to tell," he said.

Bri's eyes narrowed. "You don't tell Ace that I stretched my legs, and I won't tell the Lieutenant that you're smoking next to the spare fuel cartridges."

Kenyon glanced to his right, where the grey imulsion containers were clearly marked 'Caution: Flammable'. "Alright, deal," he agreed with a smirk, taking a few steps away from the Raven as he inhaled deeply on his cigarette. He watched her with mild interest as she meandered to the edge of the bluff and peered down over the edge. "So," he said conversationally, "What made you want to pull a stunt like this?"

She shrugged as she wandered in a wide circle around the Raven. "I'm not going to be left behind anymore," she informed him, like this was somehow up to her.

"Hang on, you just were," he told her, motioning in the direction of the base. "They left you here."

"I meant I'm not going to be left in the city, while other people take all the risks fighting the locust." She shot him a sour look over her shoulder. "Ace treats me like I'm a little kid. He's never going to let me grow up until I show him that I'm ready to join the fight."

Kenyon inhaled again slowly, pondering her words. "So why didn't you just join up while he was gone? Why this mission?"

She shrugged. "Call it a gut feeling. Something about this stinks, and it's not your shitty cigarettes."

He squinted at his cigarette, then back to her. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

They were silent as he smoked his cigarette down to the bit of cotton filter. He rubbed it out on a nearby boulder, then tucked it away in his pocket. She did another slow perimeter around the Raven, keeping her eyes up and alert. Kenyon watched her for a time, then shook his head, incredulous.

"You act like you walked straight out of a Gear textbook."

Her dark eyes focused back on him. "I'm keeping watch. Keeping a set perimeter. You could help, you know."

"Sure, I could," he reached into his pockets and pulled out a deck of cards. "Or I can play a couple hands of poker."

Her brow furrowed as she watched him shuffle the cards, then started dealing them out atop a sizable boulder. "Look, you want to learn to be a Gear?" he asked her. "First thing you do is forget everything you read in the handbook. Every situation is different, and if you're not flexible enough to adapt then you're not gonna make it." He lit another cigarette, then motioned for her to join him. "You also won't make it if you can't play a decent hand of poker."

She watched him cautiously for a moment, but eventually relented and joined him at the makeshift table. "What are we playing for?" she asked as she picked up her hand.

"You got anything interesting?"

She thought for a second. "We could play strip poker."

Kenyon's face turned an interesting shade of purple before he burst out laughing. "Jesus Christ, kid," he finally said.

"I'm not a kid."

"And I'm not a pervert. Here," he knelt down and picked up a handful of pebbles from the ground. He poured half of them out on his side of the table before passing the rest over to her. "Last one with some stones, wins. And keep your shirt on."

Bri picked up her hand of five cards and examined them. "So, how'd you even learn about strip poker?" Kenyon asked her. He tossed in a single pebble, and she followed suit.

She passed back three cards. "Grow up on a military base, you learn stuff. Give me three."

Kenyon passed over her cards and watched as she tossed another pebble. "I bet your brother there is real proud of you. Little sis is all grown up and playing strip poker with the boys around base."

Bri felt her face flush, but she didn't react. "Eventually he'll figure out I'm not a kid." She tossed in another pebble.

"Maybe he's trying to let you be a kid, before the COG turns you into a weapon," Kenyon matched her bet. "Seen a lot of raw recruits hit the ground green and get chewed up quick."

Bri laid down her hand – a pair of eights and a pair of aces. "Two pair," she said. "And I'm not afraid to die."

Kenyon laid down his hand. "Three of a kind. I win." He collected the pebbles and added them to his stash. "And I didn't say they died. There's a lot of things out there worse than death."

"Like what?"

He shuffled the cards and passed them over to her to deal. "Kid, the fact that you're asking me that tells me you're too young to find out. But I'll tell you this: once the COG gets its claws into you, it'll never let you go. You'll never draw a free breath again as long as you live."

"And that's worse than death?"

He shrugged, picking up his next hand. "Might be. I think your brother just wants you to figure that on your own."

Kenyon was full of shit, Bri decided. Men who hit sixteen were automatically conscripted. No one had a choice in this world. It was fighting the grubs, or… She didn't know what the 'or' was. Being a Gear was her destiny. In her mind, there was no sense delaying the inevitable. She didn't need to wait to be conscripted; she'd volunteer without question.

Bri lost count of how many hands they played, trading pebbles back and forth. Bri had just won another hand with a straight flush, when she heard the radio crackle to life in the cockpit.

"KRZ, we've got locust incoming. Prepare for a swift evac."

"Roger," Kenyon said, pressing a button on the small, in-ear comm he wore. Immediately they were both on their feet, sprinting for the Raven. Kenyon tucked the deck of cards into his shirt pocket before he dove into the cockpit and started spinning up the blades.

Bri jumped aboard. "What do you need me to do?" she asked.

"Sit down and don't fall out."

The Raven leapt into the air with a graceless bound. Bri snatched ahold of the 'oh shit' handle as Kenyon guided the bird up the mountain towards the squad's position. As they got closer Bri could hear the clicking of small arms fire. The squad was pinned down behind some boulders. Three reavers, each carrying a pair of locust soldiers, had landed in the high ground above them. The Gears were doing a good job at keeping them at bay, but eventually they'd run out of ammo.

Kenyon turned and tossed a headset at her. She slammed it on over her ears just in time to hear him ask: "You know how to use a door gun?"

She glanced at the holstered chain gun beside the bulkhead. "First time for everything, right?" she said as she yanked it away from the wall and aimed it out the side of the Raven.

"I'm going to strafe them, and when I loop around, let 'em have it."

Once in range Kenyon fired the Raven's main guns, focusing his fire on the Reavers. He managed to kill one, and as he pulled away he turned so Bri would have a clear firing line. She unloaded on the second Reaver, who was attempting to take off and attack the bird. Bri let lose a whoop of excitement when the Reaver fell back to the ground, its side riddled with bullet holes.

"KR, thanks for the assist," Bri heard Kim say over the radio, "Kill the other Reaver, and get us out of here."

Kenyon swung the Raven wide and prepared for another strafing run. Between the two of them, they made quick work of the grub. "Lieutenant, I'm laying her down 100 meters behind your position. I recommend you don't dally."

Kenyon landed the Raven so the squad could retreat, but unfortunately that meant the Gears were between the Raven's guns and the grubs. They couldn't lay down covering fire with such crowded firing lines. "Go!" Kim commanded Ace and Clay back to the helicopter. "We'll cover you!"

Bri's heart was pounding in her ears, but she sighed when she saw Ace sprinting down the hill towards her. "Move!" he shouted at her, shoving her away from the door gun. "Kim, come on! I've got you!" Clay stood on the other side of the bulkhead, shooting in a wide arc around Kim and Opal. Once they started moving, Ace spun up the chain gun and focused fire on the locust.

Bri found herself crouched next to Ace, peering out just far enough that she could see what was happening. Which meant she saw as Opal began falling behind Kim, just the slightest. And she saw the spray of blood from her body as the bullet punched through her chest, just above her plate armor. And she saw her fall, clutching the exit wound and screaming in pain.

"No!" she screamed, just as Kim climbed aboard. It was instinct for her to scramble out of the Raven, landing in a sprinters crouch in the grass. She almost started tearing off in Opal's position, but a hand grabbed her shirt and lifted her back on the helicopter. "She's down!" she screamed in Ace's face, struggling hard to get him to let her go.

"I'll get her!" he yelled back. He unstrapped his longshot and shoved it into her chest so the heft wouldn't weigh him down. The grubs were quickly advancing on her position even despite the covering fire Kim and Clay were laying down. He waited for a lull in the gunfire as the grubs reloaded before leaping out of the Raven and sprinting in a crouch towards Opal.

The grass beneath Opal was dyed burgundy as she tried to staunch the flow of blood just below her throat. "You-you idiot," she gasped when he reached her. She coughed, and blood erupted from her mouth and stained her teeth. "I'm dead – just leave me!"

"Not an option!" he shouted at her. He grabbed the back of her armor and started dragging her backwards towards the Raven. It was slower going now, and he could feel the grubs hot on his heels. He could smell them, a suffocating aroma of rotted meat, sewage, and filth. They were shouting to one another in that weird, breathy language they spoke.

Bri threw the strap of the longshot around her chest, and pulled the boltok pistol she'd stolen from Dizzy. Before, the grubs had been too far away for it to be of any use, but now they were quickly closing in on Ace as he dragged Opal behind him. One of the grub's head exploded as a round exited the back of it, and the massive soldier hit the ground hard.

Opal wasn't moving. Ace could feel the difference in dragging her limp, lifeless body along. It didn't matter; he was almost there – fifty meters, forty – when he heard it. "Sssslaughter!" one of the Theron guards shouted.

"Ace!" Bri screamed in warning.

Bri watched, horrified, as one of the larger grubs, dressed head to toe in red armor, broke ranks and charged Ace and Opal. He gained on the two of them like a trashball star, and reached one hand out. He grabbed Ace's outstretched wrist – the one he had been using to pull Opal along behind him – and dragged Ace to a stop. Ace lost his grip on Opal, and she dropped lifelessly to the ground. Bri raised her pistol, but the Theron lifted Ace up in the air. Ace hollered with pain as he fought hard against the Theron's grip.

The Theron lifted a long, bloodstained cleaver with his other hand. And, with a practiced swing, sliced through Ace's arm just below the elbow.

"NO!" Bri screamed, louder than humanly possible as Ace's body – finally freed from the grub's hold – fell to the ground. The Theron still held Ace's left arm up in the air like some sort of monstrous trophy.

The rest of the grubs, bolded by the Theron, started running for the Raven. They seemed to realize that now that their Reavers were dead, the Raven was the only chance they had to leave the island.

Bri tried to run to Ace's side, but another hand reached down and pinned her to the deck of the Raven. "ACE!" she cried, struggling hard against whoever was holding her. "ACE!" Ace was lying in the grass next to Opal, and neither of them were moving. The Theron stepped on top of him as he moved towards the Raven, swinging his cleaver, and casting a spray of blood in the grass as he did so.

"We've got to get out of here!" Clay yelled over the radio. "They're going to hit the fuel pods!"

"Are they moving?" Kim hollered in between bursts of fire from his position at the door gun. "Can anyone tell if they're moving?!"

"ACE!" Bri screamed at the top of her lungs, fighting against Clay with all of her strength. He had a knee in between her shoulder blades and pinned her to the deck. "ACE!"

"There's too many of them!" Kenyon yelled. "Sir, we take off now, or we don't take off ever!"

Ace wasn't moving. His skin was bloodless pale as a sea of crimson stained the ground around him. Clay had to add an arm to holding Bri inside the cabin as she bucked and fought him with everything she had. He fired his lancer one-handed. "Sir, we've got to go!"

"Get us out of here!" Kim gave the order, feeling a piece of his soul tear as he did so. Kenyon already had the blades spinning, so the Raven lifted into the air as soon as the order was given. They're already dead, he thought, trying to convince himself it was true. Or they'd bleed out on the way home.I can't risk the rest of my crew. Can't risk the mission.

Bri was still fighting against Clay. Her nails were bloody from scrapping the rough, pitted, metal floor of the Raven as she struggled to lift Clay off of her back. The Raven was still low enough – she could jump out, if she rolled right, if she hit the ground just right…"Ace!" she sobbed, her throat torn and raw as she screamed again.

"He's gone!" Clay yelled in her ear. He used his grip on her shoulder to shake her, as if he could break her from her hysteria. "He's dead!"

Kim slammed the door of the bulkhead shut, blocking out the wind and the last of the bullets the grubs were still throwing their way. Clay relaxed slightly once it was closed. Bri used his momentary distraction to burst forth from beneath him and threw herself at the door. She underestimated how heavy it was, and in her moment of struggle Clay managed to wrap his arm around her center and dumped her on the crew bench.

"Listen-LISTEN TO ME!" he hollered in her face. He grabbed both of her wrists as she fought against him, and when that didn't work he struck her once across the face. "He's dead!" he yelled at her. "He's gone! There's nothing left to rescue! You'd only get yourself dead too!"

The shock of being slapped broke her out of her panic, but not her grief. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she gasped for breath between the sobs. "I…I asked him to go back for her," she wept. "He was safe. He went back out for me. I did that – I got him killed. Oh, God. Oh god ohmygod-"

"Hey, hey, focus on me." Clay grabbed her face with both hands and forced her to look at him and only him. "He made that choice. He did. Not you. This isn't your fault. You hear me?"

She didn't. She didn't hear anything except an endless refrain repeating in her mind: Ace is dead. You killed him. Ace is dead. You killed him. Ace is dead-

---

"Bri? Bri! Come on, wake up!"

I awoke with a start. I was mid-scream as I sat up bolt aright in my bed, instinctively fighting the arms that fought to keep me contained. "No!" I yelled as my fists curled into tight balls. I swung and caught someone on the chin.

"Fuck," he cursed, and finally stepped back. It took me a second to realize I wasn't currently on board a Raven, and that I had just punched Dom in the face.

"Shit, sorry!" I fought with the blankets that had wrapped themselves around my legs. I pulled and tugged, but they just seemed to get tighter. "God damn it!"

"Hey, hey," Dom said in a calming voice. He approached me again with his hands raised, then tugged at the blankets wrapped around my feet. They came loose with his help, then fell to the floor as I kicked them even further away. I scrambled back against the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I curled into a ball and hid my face seconds before the sobs came.

I knew it. I knew I would watch Ace die again in my dream. This was why I had been so afraid to sleep. It had been months since I had last had this nightmare, but watching the dis-armed man bleed out after the bombings had been too similar to how Ace had died. I knew it would dredge all of it up again, but I had trusted Mataki.

I felt the bed shift with added weight, then Sam's muzzle dug through my arms so she could nestle against my face. She whined softly in her throat and pressed against me. I took a deep, shuddery breath and allowed her warmth to calm and soothe me. It took a minute, but eventually I felt steady enough to relax and pulled her in closer. "Good girl," I whispered against her neck.

When I glanced up, Dom was still hoovering next to my bed. He held his hands out like he wanted to hug, or reassure, or rescue, but he also looked petrified to touch me. "I'm okay," I reassured him, using one hand to wipe the tears off of my cheeks. I scooted to the side and patted the mattress beside me. "Sorry for decking you."

He slowly sank onto the bed next to me. He still looked apprehensive, like at any moment I would decide to deck him again. "Talk to me," he said in a low voice. He gently wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

"No," I said, more harshly than I meant. I sniffed hard, and shook my head. "I mean…it's not that I don't want to. I just…I can't talk about it. Not yet, anyway. Not to anyone. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He gave me a squeeze. "I get it. I've got nightmares like that, too. I'm not trying to be pushy I just – I'll be here. If you ever do want to talk."

"Thanks," I said, resting my head on his shoulder. "You kinda rock."

"No problem." We sat in silence for a moment, until I noticed that he was rubbing his chin like it pained him. "You know, you've got a hell of a right hook."

I sighed and shook my head. "Yeah, I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize. Makes me feel better knowing you can punch the living daylights out of people who need it."

"Learned from the best," I said blithely. The world outside the window was still dark, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get anymore sleep. I untangled myself from Dom and got to my feet. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to go for a run. Get warmed up before our mission today."

Dom frowned. "Maybe you should sit this mission out," he hedged. "We've got it handled. I can talk to Mataki-"

"Don't you dare," I said, giving him a cold look. "It was a bad dream. That's it. I'm fine. I'm more than ready for this."

"Alright, alright," he said, then he smirked. "Don't punch me again."

I paused as I gathered my fatigues from my closet. "I'm not living that down anytime soon, am I?"

"I'm only teasing," he said, getting to his feet. "Want me to come with you?" he offered.

"No thanks," I said as I pulled on my lightweight leather boots instead of my plated Gear boots. "I just need some time alone to clear my head."

He nodded, stifling a yawn as he headed back to his bed. "Be safe," he called as I exited the room. I told Sam to stay, and watched as she jumped up into my bed and curled up into a ball in between my blankets.

Once outside the room, I detoured for the bathroom so I could splash cold water on my face. I let the freezing water erase any trace of my tears. I ran my wet fingers through my hair, smoothing out my curls so I could tie them up and away from my face. I tried to leave the dredges of my nightmare behind as I crept silently down the stairs and out of the barracks.

Once outside I stopped by the mess hall and grabbed made a couple of breakfast sandwiches out of fried eggs and sliced goat cheese. I wrapped them up in a cloth napkin that I promised to return before heading back outside. I had told Dom that I was going for a run, but I didn't really feel like running. Instead, I headed down to the docks.

As I expected, there were navy crewmen outside of the Clement, drinking something from mugs that steamed in the cool morning air. "Hey guys," I greeted them as I walked up. "Is Baird here?"

"Ah, Corporal Baird," one of the men said with a smile. "Very capable engineer. We like him. Any chance we can keep him? Trade you a sack of coffee."

"Tempting," I said with a smile. "Afraid you'll have to ask his Sergeant. He inside?"

"Down below deck. Just keep heading down until you hear the cursing."

I thanked them and headed onboard the submarine. Immediately I was glad I wasn't wearing my armor; the corridors were so narrow it would have been almost impossible for a Gear wearing plates to maneuver. I forced down the fear that momentarily threatened to strangle me. It's not underground, I reminded myself sternly. The only light came from strip lighting on the floor, and the thin glow of backlit buttons and control boards. Luckily, my eyes were already adjusted to the dark thanks to the moonless night. I found a hatch with a ladder that went deeper below, and followed it.

The ship was mostly abandoned, which made me wonder if Baird had chased everyone outside so he could work in peace. I followed the sound of light clinking deeper inside. "Baird?" I called out cautiously.

He appeared before me, half of him dropping down from a hidden hatch on the deck. "Hey," he greeted me, like it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be covered in grease and dangling from the ceiling. "Hand me that wrench over there, would you?"

Bemused, I handed up the tool he was pointing to. "So you're the navy's flying monkey, now, huh?"

I watched as he used the wrench to loosen some sort of panel above him. "Yeah, yeah," he said mildly, as he removed the plate of metal and revealed a mess of wires. "This was easier than digging through all the equipment up top. It's the only way to access the radar control grouping." He craned his head back down to look at me. "See those wire strippers? Pass 'em up."

I passed the tool up to him, then took the wrench he passed back down to me and held onto it until he needed it again. He wore a headlamp that he must have borrowed from someone, so I could see what he was doing. He pulled some sort of chip out of the tangle of wires. Even from my angle I could see the scorch marks around the edges of the board. "Yup. That's what I thought. Burn traces from a clogged fan. Heat exchange is important on a boat like this." He pulled a flathead screwdriver and started scratching at the enamel on the chipset. "Go ahead and plug that soldering iron in for me, would you?"

I had to look around in the dark to find what he was talking about, then had to ask him where to plug it in at. "Watch your fingers," he directed me. "You're holding the part that gets hot."

I adjusted my grip, and then waited patiently until he asked me to pass it up. I watched, fascinated, as he soldered some wires back onto the board. Once he was done he replaced the fan head that he apparently had cleaned and fixed earlier, then tucked everything back inside the panel. I handed back the wrench so he could fasten everything back into place. When he was done he grabbed an iron bar that ran across the ceiling and slowly lowered himself back to the deck. I watched with interest as his shirt rode up slightly, showing off the sharp 'v' that ran under his abs and into his pants.

"Hey," he said with a smirk as he caught me looking.

"Hey yourself."

He reached around me to flip a couple of switches on the panel behind me. A screen on the wall opposite me powered on, revealing a small circle with a line rotating at a slow speed. "And…success." He took off the headlamp he wore and hung it on a bracket so he didn't blind me.

"Nice job," I said, passing over a sandwich. "Your payment."

"Thanks," he accepted the sandwich, then did a double take. "Wait, why are you here? What time is it?" he checked his watch, then raised an eyebrow at me.

"Couldn't sleep," I explained mildly.

"So you came to keep me company?"

"I came because you're the only other person crazy enough to be up this late."

"Other than yourself, you mean."

"Obviously."

Baird took a bite of his sandwich. I could feel him staring as he chewed. Before he could ask any questions, I gestured around us. "So. You sure this thing isn't going to kill everyone on board tomorrow?"

"Today," he corrected me. "And come on, a boat like this?" he stroked the wall behind him lovingly. "A little upkeep, and you could spend the rest of your life aboard."

"Because it's a death trap."

He held a hand to his chest as if I had wounded him. "Have faith!"

"In you?" I said. "Always. Just not in this rusty coffin."

"Don't worry. We'll be on the surface, anyway." He sounded a little put out about it.

"At least I'm not getting left behind this time," I said in a slightly sour voice. "You guys get to have all the fun."

"Yeah, about that..." he hedged. He reached up and shifted his goggles so they balanced atop his forehead. "You realize that once we're out in the field...you're just another soldier. And so am I. We can't let this," he motioned vaguely between us, "influence our decisions on the battlefield."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, duh. Don't worry, I won't faint into your arms or anything."

"Try that on Cole. He's all about that 'Damsel in Distress' action."

I finished off my sandwich, then realized I had no idea what to do with my hands. I scratched awkwardly at a hangnail on my thumb as the silence stretched between us. Just when I had started thinking of an excuse to leave, Baird chucked me under the chin with one finger, directing my attention back to him. "Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said reflexively. I tried for a smile, and fell short. "Just some bad dreams."

"You could dream of me, instead." He took a step closer to me, and suddenly it felt like there wasn't enough air in the submarine. I realized he hadn't dropped his hand as he cupped my chin. I leaned into the warmth of his palm and let my eyes sink close. I felt him stroke my cheek with his thumb. "I mean, I'm already your dream guy."

"That so?" I asked, finally smiling for real. My hands finally found something to do as they came to rest on his hips. I traced the muscular 'v' I had been admiring earlier. "And, uh…what would we be doing? In my dreams?"

"Hmmm…I have a few ideas," he murmured in my ear. I shivered as his lips brushed the shell of my ear, then found the corner of my jaw. His other hand snaked around my waist and pulled me flush with him. This time neither of us were wearing our armor, and I could feel his warmth flooding me from neck to hip. My stomach flip-flopped as my hands found the small of his back, then traced their way up to his broad shoulders. I groaned as he finally pressed his lips against mine. His hand slipped around to cup the back of my head, and he tugged loose the leather cord that held my hair up.

I felt him sigh against me as my lips parted and deepened our kiss. He stepped impossibly closer, forcing my back against the wall of the submarine. I gasped as his hands found my hips and he lifted me, wrapping my thighs around his core, and crushing me against the wall. I pulled hard on his shirt, almost lifting it above his head until it caught on his arms.

He jumped as my fingers pressed against the small of his back, and my ass shifted down the wall. I felt the button depress beneath me a split second before the alarm sounded. The alarm blared all around us as the emergency red lights started blinking off and on. "Shit," he cursed, ripping me away from the wall and dropping me back to my feet, where I wavered, unsteady. He examined the panel quickly before slapping the right button to send us back to silence and darkness.

We both waited a moment with bated breath for someone to come and investigate. Either no one else was aboard, or they figured that Baird was running some kind of test, because a few minutes passed, and no one came rushing down the ladder.

Baird finally shot me an accusing look. "You broke my ship."

"Told you," I said, breathlessly. "Death trap."

Another second passed, then we both started cracking up. I leaned my forehead against his chest as tears sprang to the corner of my eyes. I could feel his shoulders shake as he laughed, then he gently peeled me away from him. "Come on," he said. "I need to get you off this boat before you break something else."

"I didn't break it!" I defended myself. I snatched my leather tie away from him and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I walked towards the ladder and started climbing. I had only made it a couple of rungs before I felt a stinging slap land on my ass. I yelped in surprise, then twisted around to shoot Baird a look.

"That's for breaking my ship," he said with a smirk.

"Watch it," I warned him playfully. "I've already punched Dom this morning. He seemed impressed with my right hook."

"You punched Dom?" he asked, sounding astonished. "Can I do that too?"

"Sure. But you know he's going to punch you back. And then Marcus will probably join in, too."

There was a pause behind me, as if he were considering it. I reached the top of the ladder and pulled myself up. I checked in both directions, but no one appeared to be aboard. Baird followed me up out of the hatch. I started walking towards the exit, but he snagged my hand and pulled me back to him.

"Listen," he said with slight hesitation in his voice. "Do you remember the abandoned hunting cabin we found? When we were chasing those Stranded through the woods?"

I thought back a couple of days, to when Baird had stopped me from running into that booby-trap. "Umm, yeah?"

"Wanna meet me there, tonight? After the mission? I can…well, I'll make you dinner."

He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head and I felt my heart melt. "Damon Baird," I said with a grin, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I don't know how to do this!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "Fix a ship? Sure. Dating?" he motioned helplessly. "I don't know, isn't wining and dining supposed to be part of the process? It's not like we can stroll right on into the mess hall together."

I rose up to my tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. "I would be honored to have dinner with you."

"Good," he said, smiling. "Glad you recognize that it is an honor. I don't cook for just anyone."

I reluctantly let go of his hand as we approached the exit hatch. The same two sailors were standing around, although they had finished their drinks. "Offer stands!" they called out as we strolled down the gang plank. "Whole sack of coffee!"

I glanced at Baird, then back to them. "Wouldn't trade him for the world," I said with a sly smile.

Baird shot me a confused look, but I shook my head. The sun was now rising, coating the world with warm pink rays that I was sure matched my cheeks. I had to fight hard to keep the grin off of my face. Baird and I walked in silence back to the barracks, with a respectable distance between us, but every now and again our eyes would meet and the blush on my cheeks would deepen. Between that and my racing pulse it wouldn't be hard to convince Dom that I had been out on a run.

When we reached the door of the barracks Baird brushed past me with a gentle touch of my back that could have been innocent to the casual viewer. Instead it sent my heart racing yet again as I watched him peel off for the west wing where he shared a room with Cole.

I took the stairs two at a time back to my room. I hadn't quite managed to wrangle my smile when I ran into Dom in the hallway. His hair was still damp, and I guessed he was heading down to the mess hall. "Hey!" he greeted me, then paused and examined me closer. "You look happy?"

"It's a wonder what some good, clean exercise can do for your mood," I said as I maneuvered past him in the narrow hallway.

"Right…" he said suspiciously. I felt his eyes on me all the way down the hallway, until I reached my room and collapsed into a happy puddle on my bed.

Sam moved closer to give my face a few licks. "Sam," I said, patting her side, "I think I'm in trouble."

---

I could feel my skin sizzling as the sun beat down from above without mercy. The vastness of the ocean surrounded us on all sides, with no land in sight. The light reflected off of the surf, doubling back and causing beads of sweat to trickle down the back of my neck.

Neutral waters, I remembered suddenly. Apparently that meant the corner of no and where.

We were onboard the Falconer, which felt like a floating fortress. It wasn't as large as a Raven's nest, but there were several deck-mounted guns and a grenade launcher. Marcus had taken root at one of the forward firing positions, and I could see him occasionally peering down the sights as we waited. Baird and Cole were below deck, keeping watch on Massy. Mataki and Dom were near the bow of the boat, discussing something.

I stood in the tiniest bit of shade offered by the wheelhouse, and debated removing a few more pieces of my already scant armor. It was a trade-off; more armor was better if this ended in a firefight. But if something happened and I ended up falling overboard, I'd sink like a stone. Eventually I had decided to wear my leathers that I wore when I was Stranded, with the addendum of my main chest plate. I fiddled with the quick-release straps, wondering exactly how quick they were.

Cole came up from below deck, looking a bit green around the edges. "You okay?" I asked him as he eyed the railing like he was about to dive for the edge.

"I think I'm about all puked out," he said, taking a sip from his canteen. "Don't think I'm going to be much use in this new sea-faring world Michaelson keeps talking about."

"Keep your eyes on the horizon," I suggested weakly. Truth was, on a ship the size of the Falconer, I could hardly tell we were moving. The sea itself was actually pretty calm. If Cole couldn't keep from flipping cookies on this, he was probably right about needing to be land based.

He nodded gratefully, even though we both knew my advice was practically useless. Still, he cleared his throat and gave me a slap on the back that could have cracked a vertebrate. "Look at you, though!" he said with genuine enthusiasm. "All grown up and on your first mission! Them pirates gonna be crying to their mommas 'Oh momma, don't let the bad woman hurt us!' Hahaha, this shit is on, now!"

I smiled back at Cole, but his exuberant laughter caught Bernie's attention. She walked over to us, giving a nod to Cole in greeting. "You ready for this?" she asked me in passing.

"Sure," I answered her. "Kinda doesn't feel that different from being Stranded. I'm not sure anything has changed."

"You have, even if you don't see it yet," Mataki said. "Don't worry about trying to prove yourself here, though. There will be plenty of time for that, later. There always is."

"Contact," a navy man named Muller said over the radio. "Range three kilometers. We should have visual on them soon."

"And they're well within firing range, once I see them," Marcus said from his position at the machine gun nest.

My heartrate kicked up a notch. Out of habit I looked through my longshot scope and scanned the horizon. I tuned my magnification as high as it would go, but it still took a couple minutes of travel before I could make them out. The Falconer jostled slightly as the captain eased off the throttle. Through my scope I could make out three vessels: one that could have been a pre-war speedboat before it had been cannoned up, a walkaround fishing vessel that looked similar to the fishing boats common in Pelruan, and a much larger cabin cruiser nestled between the two.

"So much for only bringing two boats," I muttered to Bernie and Cole.

"Well, we didn't tell them that one of ours is a submarine, so fair's fair," Cole said.

I heard Michaelson direct Baird to bring Massy up to the wheelhouse. As he did so, the Falconer closed the gap between us and the trio of pirate boats. We came in close enough that I could clearly see everything on board the ships without my scope, but not so close that we couldn't maneuver if this went south. Muller repeated the call sign and we waited for a response from the pirate vessels. As time stretched on, my anxiety heightened. No voice answered the calls on the radio, and no one was moving onboard the boats.

"No response, sir," Muller said over the radio.

"Lookout," Michaelson said, "Is anything moving?"

"Negative, sir."

"What are they playing at?" I asked Cole, making sure my radio wasn't keyed up. I adjusted my scope again and did a slow scan of the boats, and then the water.

The lookout found it about the same time I did. "Sir," I heard the man call over my comm. "There's drifting debris. Wood, fuel slick, metal drums. Not sure if it's a vessel that's broken up, or just old garbage doing the world tour."

I felt the engines churn as we came in closer. The door to the wheelhouse opened behind us, and Baird frog-marched Massy out onto the deck. I glanced at Bernie, but her face was kept a professional blank. "What games are your buddies planning, huh?" Baird asked Massy, keeping a tight grip on his arm.

Massy was wearing a pair of handcuffs, and he had to straighten to get an eyeful of the boats. "Hell if I know," he answered Baird. "Hey, Cormick!" he yelled, as if he could be heard at this distance without a radio. "Cormick? Man, what the hell are you doing? It's me! Get me off this friggin' ship, would ya?"

"Baird, ask him if he recognizes the vessels," Michaelson ordered over the comm.

Baird repeated the question to Massy. "The two smaller ones are ours," he answered. "Don't recognize the bigger one. Probably a new requisition."

"Falconer to Clement," Michaelson said over the radio, in a quieter voice. Massy couldn't hear our conversation without a comm., but the Captain still spoke with a hushed voice. "Where are you?"

"Clement to Falconer," came the response from somewhere deep below the waves. I could imagine the sub entrenched in the darkness like a tunnel of Grubs under my feet, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "We just pinged something, and we thought it was a cetacean, but the acoustics weren't right."

"Small arms damage to the main boat, sir – inboard." The lookout's voice interrupted. "Just above the wheelhouse door."

"If they're planning to ambush us, they'll have to step outside to fire," Mataki pointed out.

"Assuming that's the plan," Cole mused, checking his lancer.

There was another long moment as we tried to figure out what the pirates had planned. I felt a bead of sweat slowly trail down between my shoulder blades and trace my spine as we waited for something – anything – to happen.

Finally, the cabin door on the largest boat opened and a man appeared. He waved, slow and deliberate. "I see him," Michaelson said. "Stand by, all guns."

I kept the man centered in my crosshairs. Maybe they were still out of range for lancer fire, but I could definitely make that shot, as could all the machine gun nests aboard. And if things got really ugly, then Clement could blow them out of the water before they even realized it was there. Try something, I mentally taunted them as my fingers flexed on my rifle. I dare you.

The radio crackled again. "Falconer, nice of you to join us. You've got something we've been looking for."

"This is Captain Michaelson. Am I speaking to Cormick Allam?"

"No…" the unfamiliar voice answered. "Mr. Allam can't come to the bridge. This is Darrel Jacques, and let's just say we've carried out a company takeover. We'd really like to have Massy, please."

There was a beat as we digested that. Did this mean there had been a mutiny? I scanned the other two boats closely, in case this was some kind of distraction. "Baird," Michaelson said over our private line, "See if the name Jacques rings a bell with Massy, will you?"

"Who's Darrel Jacques?" Baird asked Massy.

Massy's reaction was immediate and violent. He pulled back as if he could make a break for it, even though there was nowhere for him to go. His eyes grew wide with fear as his hands flexed uselessly against his cuffs. "No!" he exclaimed as Baird jerked him back under control. "You can't do that to me, man, he's gonna friggin' kill me! No! Fuck you, you can't do that to me!"

"Answer the question," Baird snapped. "Who is he?"

"He leads another gang," Massy finally answered. "The Free Trade Commission, or some shit. We did a deal a while back that went wrong. You hand me over to him and I'm dead. Do you hear me? Dead!"

Baird relayed the info back over to Michaelson. "How convoluted," Michaelson said. "Well, I came here to remove the threat of piracy, so I don't care which camp they're in. And we can only use Massy for this sting once, so let's hand him over and see what else we can get out of this."

I heard my radio click as Michaelson switched from our private channel back to an open one. "Mr. Jacques," he said. "Excuse my directness, but what's in it for us?"

"Maybe we can make a deal."

"Explain."

"We'll deal with the like of Massy's people in exchange for being allowed to carry on our normal business – taking care of the islands. We're not pirates. The worst you can call us is vigilantes, and I'm not sure that's such a bad thing, anyway."

"Oh, they sound so noble," Baird said with a scoff. "Pirates are pirates."

"Enemy of my enemy," I muttered.

Michaelson switched back to the crew-only frequency. "All hands, I think we can modify Plan A," he said. "As soon as Massy is handed over and the boats are clear, let them go, unless things start to come unraveled. Clement, this is our chance to track them back to their home port. I think your deterrent value is best kept for when we have an audience to appreciate it."

"Clement to Falconer, understood. Be advised – we're still picking up unknown acoustics on our channels. Attempting to identify."

Men started flowing out of the cabin and stood on the bridge of the cruiser. Through my scope I could see the shadows of at least three men remaining inside the cabin. The other two boats were dead in the water with no one aboard that I could see. The cruiser fired up its engines and came to a stop twenty meters from the Falconer.

Michaelson stepped out of the wheelhouse and onto the bridge. A tan-skinned man with slicked black hair stepped forward and held a hand in the air. "So," the man called out. We were now close enough that we could communicate without radios. "We owe ol' Johnny boy some justice that's long overdue, so how about you bring him over?"

"How about telling me how you plan to keep his colleagues in line?"

"Here's a token of our intent," Jacques turned to one of his men. "Bring him out."

Two men disappeared inside the cabin for a second, and quickly reappeared with a third dragged out between them. He was slumped between them, beaten, and battered. The man was still alive, albeit barely. It was obvious he'd been worked over. I glanced at Bernie, but she hadn't even blinked yet. "Captain," Jacques called. "Allow me to introduce Cormick Allam."

Massy was still spitting abuse and demanding his rights. I saw him do a double take when he saw Cormick. "Cormick?" he yelled to the other boat. "Cormick, what did they do to you, man?"

Jacques shrugged. "Like I said, Captain, we'll deal with these shits." Then he pulled a handgun from his belt, turned to Cormick, and put a round through his skull.

I flinched hard. I'd seen men die before, but never executed in such a cold, cruel way. There was a loud crack that carried and echoed over the ocean, followed by a pink spray of brains and blood that painted the bow of the ship. Cormick's body – what was left of it – dropped hard to the boat, then slowly slumped overboard and into the water below.

I glanced around at my squad. Cole looked slightly pale now, instead of green. At the very least, he wasn't laughing anymore. Marcus and Mataki didn't look fazed at all, which I decided had to be a front. Neither of them were callous enough to watch a man be killed in cold blood without feeling something. Dom had flinched before forcing his face back into an expression of professional disinterest. Baird had his hands full holding on to Massy. The man had turned ghost white and had sucked in a breath as if was going to scream, but nothing emerged.

"Like I said," Jacques holstered his pistol and motioned for another man to clean the blood off the bow of the ship. "We're not scum. We take a cut to survive, and we make sure nobody profiteers or hogs supplies."

"And what about our fishing fleet?" Michaelson asked, looking unmoved. "We had a trawler go missing."

"Definitely not us. But don't underestimate the number of criminals with boats."

I could see a muscle working in Michaelson's jaw as he chewed over Jacque's proposal. He would probably need Prescott's final approval on any sort of official treaty, but out here the Captain got to make all the calls. "How about an interim agreement?" he offered. "I give you Massy, you prove you're not going to give me problems, and I'll stay away from you unless I hear you get into bad ways."

"Done."

"As a gesture of goodwill, we'd like to keep one of the boats."

Jacques shrugged. "They're full of holes now. But help yourself."

Michaelson turned to Dom. "You mentioned wanting to do the cross-decking?"

"Yes sir," Dom answered.

Baird shoved Massy ahead of him towards the stern, where the navy men were preparing to drop the marlin into the water. Marcus was already over there, keeping an eye on things. Bernie made to follow, but Dom caught her arm. "Maybe you should stay here," he suggested. "Make sure Cole doesn't puke so hard he falls overboard."

Mataki gave him a disappointed look. "Okay," she agreed. "They probably wouldn't let me stay and watch them beat the shit out of him, anyway."

I jogged past Dom to meet up with Marcus. "I'm coming, too," I informed him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"It's a four-man op. One to drive, one to handle the passenger, one to watch fore and one aft. And if we're taking one of their boats, you're going to need to split into teams of two. One to drive, one to shoot in case something goes wrong." I motioned back at Bernie and Cole with a flick of my thumb. "You're down two men already. You need me."

Marcus gave me a long, slow look. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes."

"Alright then," he agreed.

Baird was having a hell of a time getting Massy into the inflatable. "You guys can't do this!" he was still insisting. "Do you know what they're going to do to me? How long they're going to take?"

"Shut up," Baird said. "Mataki would have taken longer."

I climbed down the ladder and into the boat after Marcus. Marcus took a seat in the bow, and fixed Massy with an icy look. "Can't help but notice you never denied you did it," he pointed out. Massy met his eyes and returned the stare for a moment, before finally falling silent.

Dom looked surprised when he saw me sitting in the aft of the boat, but he didn't say anything as he took the helm. He steered the marlin away from the warship and in the direction of the awaiting Stranded. I kept my head on a swivel, watching carefully for any signs of an ambush. My stomach rolled when I saw Cormick's body floating in the surf, minus his head, but I carefully schooled my expression, so I didn't react.

Dom pulled up alongside the Cruiser. Marcus stood and caught the boat before it could smash into the helm. I kept my lancer up, at the ready, as three men appeared over the stern to help haul Massy aboard. "Up you go," Baird commanded, yanking Massy to his feet. He and Marcus had to work together to pass him up. Even now he was fighting, wiggling around as if he had somewhere he could escape to. I watched closely, but the three pirates just pulled him aboard and vanished behind the stern rail.

Once he was aboard Dom shoved the marlin off by pushing against the cruiser's helm, then gently pulled away. I watched behind us as the men shoved Massy into the cabin. "You assholes!" he yelled, either at us or his new captors. "You'll regret this!"

Dom pulled alongside the fishing boat. "Oh, fuck…" I breathed as we finally saw what was inside – bodies, at least half a dozen, all slumped over and knee deep in their own blood. The gore was so thick it was hard to see where they had been shot. The coppery scent of sun-cooked blood caught in the back of my throat and I gagged. My stomach clenched, and I had to fight hard not to lose my lunch over the side of the marlin.

"Shit," Baird cursed. "Doesn't any asshole clean up after themselves nowadays?"

He and Marcus boarded the fishing boat and started hefting the bodies overboard. I didn't consider myself squeamish, but I had to turn away as the bodies bumped and glided alongside our hull. "Breath through your mouth," Dom whispered to me. "It helps."

Before I could answer a blood-curdling scream echoed over the water. I snapped around to look at the cruiser – the source of the noise. Somewhere inside the cabin Massy was screaming his head off as Jacques and his crew did God knows what to him. His wordless screams of agony shifted to senseless pleading, as he begged for someone to stop doing something. I wasn't certain what they were actually doing to him, but unfortunately my imagination filled in the gaps.

"Well," Baird said once the shock had faded somewhat. "Guess Jacques is a man of his word."

Marcus didn't say a word. He stared over the side of the boat as Baird started her up and headed back towards Falconer.

As Dom drove the marlin, I couldn't help but glance at the commando knife he had strapped to his hip. Unwillingly my thoughts travelled back to Darvish. Was this what passed for justice in the new world? It wasn't sympathy I felt for the likes of Massy and Darvish, not quite…more of a quiet mourning for the state of the human race.

I climbed the ladder to board the Falconer, and came face to face with Bernie as I climbed over the rail. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and looked like she was forcing herself to remain on the bridge listening to Massy's screams. I picked a spot next to her on the stern and stood, listening.

"You can go inside," she told me. "Or down below deck."

"No thanks." I understood – probably better than anyone else aboard that ship – exactly what Bernie was going through in this moment. Relief, anger, guilt. Forcing herself to listen to Massy's pleading for mercy vindicated her. And although I hadn't had to listen or watch Darvish die, part of me felt this was my penance as well. As if I had to prove to myself that the right decision had been made, even if I wasn't the one who had to make it.

Baird climbed over the railing, looking slightly put out. "They wouldn't let me drive it home," he groused.

"Go check on Cole," she ordered him. "Make sure he gets some fluids in him."

The navy men were busy securing the marlin to the side of the Falconer, and getting a towrope tied off onto the new boat. Dom started to go inside, until he noticed me on the bow. He didn't ask me to head below deck; instead, he came and stood silently next to Bernie and me, laying a hand around my shoulder. Marcus simply took up his mantle at the machine gun nest, keeping his sights aimed out across the water.

"Clement," Michaelson said over the radio, "We'll let them finish up and head out first. Once they head out, follow at a safe distance and get a location on their home port."

"Clement to Falconer," the radio buzzed. "Wilco. But there's still something out here. It's not coming up on radar, but we're still getting pings on sonar. Could be a collision risk."

"Will it compromise us?"

Finally, Massy's screams went silent. I ignored the chatter on the radio as the door to the cabin opened. Two men dragged out what was left of Massy – a bloody, sliced hunk of meat – and threw him overboard. He limply hit the water with a splash and drifted lifelessly. Jacques emerged from the cabin and raised a single, blood-streaked hand in the air. "Pleasure doing business," he called across the ocean.

"Well," Mataki said. "Guess that's that."

"You okay?"

"I will be," she said with a nod. I could see she was staring at Massy's corpse in the water, convincing herself he really was dead.

I started to say something, but a man in a red shirt exited the cabin on the cruiser, and something about him struck me as familiar. I couldn't quite make out his face, and I didn't want to aim my sniper just in case it was taken as hostility and kicked off into something nasty. The man was tall, with chestnut shoulder-length hair.

"Clement, repeat, is it biological?" Michaelson said over the radio.

The man in the red shirt worked with two other men to get a small inflatable craft into the water. They were using it to row across to the small speedboat, so they could board it and take it home with them. "Dom," I said suddenly, "You got your field goggles with you?"

"Sure," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his binoculars. He passed them over without asking why I wanted them. The man was facing the wrong direction for me to get a look at his face, but I watched as they rowed across to the next boat. There was something unbalanced about his frame. I froze when I realized he was missing his left arm. My blood turned to ice in my veins, as every hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.

"No…" I whispered in horror, without lowering the binoculars.

"Everything okay?" Dom asked.

The two other men in the raft climbed aboard the boat. Finally, finally the man turned around and I could see his face. It was older, and he had a week-old beard on his chin, but it was him. It was him. The same warm brown eyes, the same crooked nose. "Ace?" I breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "ACE!" I screamed, louder than Massy had while being killed.

The man jerked upright. I could see him shield his eyes against the sun with his one good hand. I shoved the binoculars back towards Dom as I waved frantically. "ACE!"

"Oh shit," my radio crackled in my ear. "Torpedo – brace, Brace, BRACE!"

In the next split second an explosion launched a plume of water into the air. The speedboat – the one Ace had been about to board – rocked with the impact, the bow of the boat blowing clean up out of the water before bursting apart. The shockwave upended the raft Ace stood upon, creating a surge of water that sucked him under.

"Clement, what the hell did you do?" Michaelson shouted over my comm. "You were not to engage!"

"That was not us! I repeat, we did not fire, that was not Clement!"

"Then what the fuck did that? Grubs?"

I searched the water frantically for any scrap of red, but even as the water began to settle no one emerged from beneath the whirlpool. "You fucking bastards," Jacques said over the open line. "Deal's null and void. Gloves off, now." The cruiser fired up its engines and sped away as quickly as it could, leaving a churning wake in the water.

Ace still hadn't emerged out of the water. I toed out of my boots, yanked the quick release on my armor, dropped my radio and rifle to the deck, and dove over the side of the Falconer before anyone could move. I heard Dom shout my name seconds before I broke the surface.

I didn't care that there might have been grubs in the water. I didn't care that there were bodies floating all around, leaving blood trails for sharks or whatever else. I didn't care that the Falconer itself might have been seconds from being hit by another torpedo. I didn't care. All that mattered was saving Ace – I would not lose him a second time. The speedboat had only been about 100 meters away when it had been hit.

I stayed under the water as I swam, just to make sure no one would fire upon me. The saltwater stung my eyes as I pumped my arms and legs as fast as I could. I searched desperately for any sign of him. I grabbed hold of someone's hands, only to push the man away when I saw his eyes – open, and staring lifelessly into the ocean.

A fire lit in my chest as my lungs screamed for oxygen. I couldn't surface, not yet. I desperately tried to see through the wreckage of the boat, needing to find him more than I needed my next breath. How long had he been underwater? Could he have been unconscious when he went under? Was he already drowning?

There. I could see him – floating, lifeless, with one arm and a red shirt. I scrambled to swim down to him, ignoring the ache in my muscles. I grabbed him underneath his one good arm, and kicked hard for the surface. I almost made it, but my lungs gave out just before I broke the surf and I inhaled a lungful of saltwater.

Choking, coughing, spluttering…I managed to rise above the waves. I sucked in a mouthful of air before Ace's dead weight dragged me back under. I churned my legs, but my energy was flagging quickly. The tiny bit of oxygen I had managed to steal was far from enough, and my vision started going dark at the corners. I adjusted my grip and tried to force Ace above the water, so at least if I drowned maybe he'd have a chance to survive.

Ace…I thought desperately, just as my eyes started to flutter shut. My lungs were still half filled with water, but I kept my mouth closed tightly so I could hold onto my last breath. I kicked weakly, half-heartedly, but I could feel myself sinking deeper into the frozen sea. The sunlight above us was fading, disappearing behind thick, black shadows.

Just as my eyes sank shut, I felt someone grab me around the waist. Suddenly there was the sensation of being lifted, dragged upwards and out of the water. "Grab her!" Someone familiar called out, and more hands joined the mix, pulling and tugging my arms and legs.

"She's not breathing."

"Get her off her back!"

Ace, I tried to tell them, but my lungs weren't working properly. Get Ace.

Someone started beating me on my back, their blows landing like boulders between my shoulder blades. I tried to escape, but my limbs wouldn't respond. Maybe this was who had fired on us. Maybe this wasn't a rescue, but instead they were going to beat me to death for the hell of it.

After the third or fourth blow my stomach convulsed, and I vomited warm seawater all over the solid platform beneath me. I dragged in a ragged breath that felt like razor blades going down my throat, but the darkness faded from my vision. I kept coughing and vomiting as someone patted my back rhythmically.

I could see now that I was on a boat. Ace was lying next to me, as Marcus performed CPR on him. The boat jolted with each compression. Water poured from his mouth, but he wasn't breathing. No…I thought in despair as tears pricked the corner of my eyes. I wanted to help, to save his life, but all I could do was grab his hand and thread my fingers with his as I silently prayed for him to live. One more miracle. Come on, Ace. Please. For me.

I could feel the air being pulled in and out of my chest, but I didn't want it. I didn't want my next breath, my next heartbeat, my next anything until I knew Ace would live. My cold fingers were tangled with his, and I squeezed impossibly harder, silently begging him to come back to me.

He couldn't leave me again. Not yet. Not when I had just found him.

"Bri?" Dom's worried face interrupted my view of Marcus performing chest compressions. "Bri? Baby, talk to me. Tell me you're okay!"

"Ace," I managed to croak out, even though my throat was raw and slashed. "Ace…"

I could see now that his dark hair was dripping blood onto the surface of the marlin. Something – probably a piece of shrapnel from the torpedo – had struck the back of his skull. Marcus pinched his nose and blew a couple of breaths into his lungs before going right back to beating on his chest. "Come on!" I heard him grunt as his bandana darkened with sweat.

Just me and Marcus, working over a corpse.

Finally, long after someone else might have given up, Ace's chest convulsed, and a geyser of seawater heaved out of his mouth. Marcus rolled him onto his side, so he'd have an easier time coughing it up. Marcus took a fist and beat on Ace's back, and I understood now why my shoulders ached so much. I sluggishly tried to sit up, even though my limbs felt like bricks. Dom was crouched next to me, dripping wet and fretting anxiously over me as if I might drop dead. Suddenly it made sense – it was Dom who had dove in after me, who had pulled us both out of the drink. "I'm okay," I told him, patting his knee - the only part of him I could reach.

Mataki was standing at the helm of the marlin. "Everyone breathing?" she asked. "Good. We need to get out of here."

The boat rolled beneath me as the engine churned and sped back towards the Falconer. Ace was breathing, but he wasn't exactly conscious. His eyes were still closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Occasionally he would convulse, and more water would dribble out between his lips. Dom had a hand gripping my shoulder, like he was afraid I'd dive overboard again if he didn't hang on to me.

"Who is that?" Marcus asked, looking at me for an answer.

"Private Ace Martinez," I answered in a soft voice. "Missing, presumed KIA."

---

Author's note: So, here it is. The story I've wanted to write for nine years. The second-longest chapter of the story. I can't tell you guys how amazing it felt to finally get to this point.

A few of you guessed it – Ace is indeed alive! Kudos if you figured it out earlier!

I'm always curious to know what you guys think, but this time I'm dying to hear your thoughts. I'm shamelessly begging here – leave a review on your way out, pretty please!