Risk Assesment
Written for Spooktober 2021, Prompt: Decay. First try at Ghost Ship fic. Established Relationship for Dodge/Munder. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!
Munder sleeps restlessly in his shitty bed in his shitty apartment in his shitty town. Even with Dodge asleep beside him, he can't quite seem to settle. Too hot, too cold, dripping faucet, clacking radiator, barking dog, backfiring car, flickering streetlight…
Even when sleep finally does take him in the early hours of the morning, he's wracked with what is probably the most terrible nightmare he's ever had the misfortune to have. He doesn't usually remember his dreams, but this one is so strikingly vivid and detailed he feels like he's there, living it. He dreams of a salvage, which makes sense, given how long the last job had taken them. Only this one is a once in a lifetime sort of thing, an ocean liner lost for decades, filled with riches even more valuable than the ship herself. But something about it feels… wrong.
He sees flashes of the ruined ship, the rotted out wood, the corroded metal, the decaying furniture. He sees himself and the rest of the crew onboard – and the things they see there don't quite add up. He sees the Arctic Warrior and then he doesn't. He sees a stranger in the shadows, lurking just out of sight.
He sees bullets and blood and bodies. Old ones, first, dressed in the fancy attire those originally aboard the ship would have worn, left there to decompose since whatever happened when the ship went off the radar all those years ago. Fresher ones that can't possibly be that old, with modern clothing, modern technology. Then he starts seeing his own crew – sees Santos burn to death while fixing their loyal tug, sees Greer fall down an elevator shaft, sees Murphy drown in an aquarium. He goes in search of Dodge and Epps, the only ones left, but he finds himself, instead, his body crushed in the gears of the ship, the seawater stained red with his blood. He never does find Epps, but much to his horror, he does find Dodge, bleeding out on the bridge, a bullet in his brain. Munder can't bring himself to leave him there, he kneels at the other man's side in this horrible dream world and pleads for it to end as he watches the life fade out of his lovers eyes.
He shuts his own eyes, desperate to wake up, but all he can see in the darkness there is a hook.
And then, suddenly, he's back in reality. He jolts upright, soaked through with fear sweat, heaving for breath that's caught in his throat, heart racing as the nightmare images flash in his head.
"Mm, what's wrong?" Dodge grumbles at him, still half asleep himself beside him.
"Nothing," he says, unwilling to relive the details all over again in order to explain. "Nothing at all." He forces himself to calm down, to lay back down, to wrap his arms around Dodge again and hold on tight. He's sure he will not be sleeping anymore tonight, but there's no reason Dodge needs to suffer with him. He drags a hand through the other man's hair, assures himself that there is not, in fact, a fatal bullet wound in his lovers head. "Just go back to sleep."
The next day they meet with the rest of the crew to get their cuts of the latest salvage and enjoy a round of drinks before they continue their long overdue break from the sea. Everyone's looking forward to the downtime, talking about their plans.
Munder revels in the normalcy of it all. Let's himself get lost in the jokes and the chatter because as much as he wants to put it out of his mind and never think of it again, those nightmare images are still swirling around his head – the details are still so clear.
But then the stranger joins them.
Immediately, something about the man puts Munder on edge. Still, he listens along with the others as this Jack Ferriman tells them of the boat he's seen adrift in the Bering Strait, well away from any normal shipping lanes, not responding to radio calls. The man throws down a photograph and when Munder sees the picture, it's like a punch to the gut. The ship. It's the ship. From his dream, that damn nightmare boat that takes everything from him.
Murphy shoos Ferriman away so they can discuss it amongst themselves. Murphy tells them it could be worth millions, or it could be worth nothing – Munder already knows which is true. Murphy tells them they don't have to do this, that they agreed to a break after the three month haul they've only just completed, but the others are already agreeing, especially given the six-way split Murphy offers them.
"I'm in," Santos says, in spite of the repairs the engine already needs.
Greer weighs the risk of another unpredictable job against his upcoming wedding, but nods, "Alright."
Before Dodge can accept for the both of them, Munder cuts in, a firm. "No. We're out."
"What?" Dodge flounders, "Why?" Before Munder can answer, Dodge pulls him to his feet, drags him away from the others so they can talk privately. "What do you mean, 'we're out,' are you insane? You know what that kind of money could do for us."
He does know. He knows all too well. The things on that ship would set them up for life, hell, for several lifetimes - they'd never want for anything ever again. But there's no way that ship lets them get away with anything, he has a sinking suspicion that it never does.
He settles his hands on Dodge's shoulders, stares pointedly into his eyes, dead serious. "If we go on that ship," he says, "We die."
"What?" Dodge asks, incredulous. "You're talking crazy."
"No. No, listen to me," he begs, because he knows this is absolutely going to sound crazy. Hell, maybe it is crazy, maybe he is crazy. "Last night, I had this… awful nightmare. About that ship. I don't know what, but something about it is every shade of wrong." Dodge still doesn't seem convinced and Munder can't blame him so he tries again. "There is gold on that ship, a shitload of gold, worth hundreds of millions of dollars," he explains, knowing full well that it is a risk to do so if this whole situation is as sketchy as he thinks it is, "I'm telling you that, that I could walk onto the ship and lead you right to crates full of gold, and I still don't want to go." Dodge opens his mouth, probably prepared to question this alleged gold, but it's then that, out of the corner of his eye, Munder spots Ferriman glaring at him. He's reminded of the shadowed stranger in the background of his dream and suddenly things click into place. "We go, we die," he says again, knowing now that it must be Ferriman who shoots Dodge and leaves him for dead. Quieter, he says, "I watched you die."
Something in his eyes must get through to his lover, though, because with an exasperated sigh, Dodge gives in. "Okay," he says, "I hate you just a little for this, but okay." He drags Munder back over to the others, who are eagerly awaiting the outcome of their disagreement. "We're out," Dodge agrees with him, knowing full well that if they're out, the others won't go either. No way they can pull the job off without them, no way that they're replaced.
They both reclaim their seats at the table and Munder takes a generous swig of his beer. Under the table, his free hand catches one of Dodge's, holds tight.
"Tell the guy to fuck off."