a/n: This is a season five AU. The prologue takes place before season five begins, but will jump to the present day - the beginning of season five - next chapter. I'll do my best to update as frequently as possible, and please don't forget to review!
Prologue
Four months earlier, Coral Sea, Forenoon Watch, 11:32
The FFV's deck trembled beneath Charge's boots with enough force to make him take a step to steady himself and look over at 2Dads, who had reached for the rail for support. "What the hell was that?"
"Not good, Charge," 2Dads replied, leaning out over the rail, checking to see if they'd managed to hit anything that would have caused the grating shudder of the boat below them. The water was crystal clear, the kind of blue that was utterly tempting, and there was the unmistakable ridge of a reef just barely submerged. He thrust his torso out further, trying to scope how deep it was, but the boat rocked again, with yet another creak of coral on metal, and he grabbed for the railing to keep from falling out.
"Hammersley, this is Charlie 82. We seem to have grazed a reef," Charge said, an undertone of concern raising his voice just a few notches.
"Are you sure, Charge?" Mike Flynn's voice was calm as he wrapped a tan hand around the radio.
"Pretty sure, sir," Charge replied, shuddering as there was yet another grating screech, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
"Stop both engines," Mike ordered, grabbing his binoculars with the hand not gripping the radio.
"Stop both engines," Swain repeated, pushing a button on his console, and the steady thrum of the propellers went dead.
"Charge, can you assess the damage?" Mike asked, adjusting the focus on his binoculars. This area was positively striped with reefs, but so far they had managed to avoid all of them, but the FFV was behind the Hammersley in shallower water.
"Right away sir," Charge responded, already on his way below decks. He was pretty sure there hadn't been enough force to actually breach the hull, but the boat wasn't a shining example of seaworthiness, barely more than a glorified bathtub carrying tons on tons of dismembered sea cucumbers. He checked every room and found no leaks, so he ascended to the deck.
"How bad is it?" 2Dads asked, blue eyes wide as he sat at the bow, scanning the clear water below.
"Hull's intact," Charge replied shortly, turning on his radio. "Hammersley, the hull is intact. I repeat, hull's intact. It looks like we've just scraped a reef."
Mike blew out a sigh of relief. "Good news, Charlie 82. We'll continue the tow, but I want you keeping an eye on the lower decks for any leaks, over."
"Right-y-o, boss, out." Charge joined 2Dads on the bow, and together they watched the water slide by beneath them.
Earlier, Coral Sea, Morning Watch, 06:37
The sea was calm under the Hammersley, the sun glinting brilliantly off the gentle swell. Her bridge crew were in various levels of alertness, hands wrapped around steaming travel mugs and binoculars, when the beep of a new radar contact drew Kate McGregor's attention, and she slid off her chair and over to the radar.
"What do you have there, X?" Mike Flynn swivelled his chair to get a better look.
"FFV bearing 145, range 10 nautical miles," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Let's check it out, then," he instructed, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his binoculars, looping them around his neck. "Have a boarding party at the ready."
"Steer 145," Kate said, plugging the coordinates into the conn. "Boarding party standby."
The FFV was small, sitting low in the water with a few crew members visible, stepping over coils of cable and piles of equipment as they moved around the deck. Mike watched them through his binoculars as Charge kept tabs on them through the EOD.
He could see a flurry of movement as the roar of the RHIB's engines signalled the navy's approach, and the panicked gestures of the fishermen to each other as they hauled a dripping man up from the depths, hoisting him aboard and motioning him below right before the boarding party jumped onto the deck and began herding the fishermen to the back of the boat.
The boarding party could smell the boat before they got on board. It wasn't as bad as trochus, but although it clearly wasn't fish, there was that same briny stench of decay.
Once they had secured all the crew, they began inspecting the ship. There was rudimentary diving equipment strewn around, and trays on trays filled with slimy lumps glistening wetly in the sun.
"What on earth is this?" 2Dads was the first to approach their catch, squinting down at the mess before him, and poking one of the lumps gingerly with a gloved finger. It squelched under his touch and he frowned in confusion. It didn't look like any fish he'd ever seen.
Swain swallowed a smirk as 2Dads poked at the thing, coming up behind him and looking down at the nearest tray. "Those look like sea cucumbers, mate."
"Sea cucumbers? Why?" 2Dads' frown deepened, but he was unable to resist another jab at the hapless sea cucumber.
"Are you sure, Swain?" Kate asked, moving closer to her two fellow sailors.
"Pretty sure, ma'am." Swain scooped one up in his hands and held it up to his superior officer, dimples showing as she stepped back, barely missing slime dripping down the front of her Kevlar vest. "Look, only one hole. It breathes through its anus, sort of like you, 2Dads. It's also considered a delicacy in Asian cuisine."
The younger sailor's mouth fell open and he smacked one hand to his chest. "Swaino, quite frankly, I'm offended."
"Alright, alright, keep it civil, boys," Kate interjected, wrestling a smile off her face. She rejoined Dutchy and Charge, who had cleared the lower decks in short order, discovering even more sea cucumbers in the hold, and set to the task of trying to get the fishermen to talk, which was always difficult when none of them spoke much English.
Having made little headway, she stepped away from them to radio back to Mike. "Hammersley, this is X-ray 82. They claim they didn't know they were fishing in our EEZ, but it appears that they have been poaching sea cucumbers. Recommend apprehension and tow back to base, over," she began, positioning her radio closer to her mouth.
Mike, who had been watching the entire thing through binoculars, picked up the radio, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Roger that, X. Tow approved. Get Charge to set that up, escort the fishermen back here, and we'll be on our way, over."
"Will do, sir, over," she replied, relaying the information to Charge, while Mike began maneuvering the Hammersley close enough to attach a tow line. The warship dwarfed the FFV, casting a shadow over the smaller ship as she moved in slowly. The water was shallow and striated with barely submerged reefs, and Hammersley's bulk, while a blessing in a storm, was only a hindrance now.
Working quickly, Charge and Dutchy attached the lines while Swain, Kate, and 2Dads accompanied the motley crew back to the Hammersley, and once they were secured in austere, the ship made a wide turn to head for Cairns.
Coral Sea, Afternoon Watch: 13:21
Swain drummed his fingers absently against the conn, staring out at the endless waves in front of the Hammersley. Once the excitement of the FFV brushing a reef had ebbed, the ship had slowed dramatically to prevent any further damage, and they were running even more behind schedule than they had been before apprehending the FFV. He swallowed down the anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Chloe's first dance recital was in a few hours, and even with the ship going close to full speed, he had a sinking feeling they weren't going to make it, and the guilt was rising. She'd been buzzing about it for the last few weeks and he desperately wanted to be there.
A flurry of motion from the cameras on austere caught his peripheral vision, and he snapped out of his mood to zero in on the cameras. Two of the fishermen were holding another one down as his entire body seized, and Swain was up and out of his chair in an instant. "Looks like a med emergency in austere, sir," he tossed over his shoulder as he ran from the bridge.
"Keep me posted," Mike replied as the door swung shut.
Swain could hear the panic before he reached austere, and he flung the door open and practically tumbled into the room, hands up to show he meant no harm. "I'm a medic," he said, approaching the afflicted man and pushing two of the others out of the way gently but firmly. The seizure had subsided, but as Swain parted the man's shirt to listen to his breathing, he caught his breath. His chest was mottled purple and white, and the man in front of him was barely lucid, eyes rolling under fluttering eyelids. He managed to keep the stream of expletives in as he took in the wetness down the front of the man's pants and the way he was cradling his head.
"Charlie 82, I think he's got the bends. He must have been diving and they hauled him up before we got there," he said into his radio, which crackled to life almost immediately. "I'm not equipped to deal with this, sir."
Mike's eyes widened and he turned to RO. "I need you to find the nearest asset with a doctor and radio them. It's an emergency."
"On it, sir." RO's fingers were already flying across his controls. "HMAS Newcastle is less than two hours away at top speed."
"Charge, top of the green," Mike ordered, turning in his chair to address the engineer.
"Right away, sir," Charge replied, increasing the revolutions to max.
"HMAS Newcastle, this is HMAS Hammersley. We have a medical emergency and request an emergency patient transfer, over…" RO's voice joined the buzz of flying commands in the bridge.
"Swain, can you keep him stable until we can get to the Newcastle?" Mike asked a few minutes later, after the Newcastle had accepted their request.
"I'll do my best, sir," Swain replied, waving Dutchy into austere, and the two carried the fisherman to the wardroom, where he slid an oxygen mask over his face let the man curl into himself. If his chances of making Chloe's recital were slim before, they were absolutely shot now. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. Sally was already on edge with him, and he reckoned this had probably just pushed her over.
Coral Sea, First Dog Watch: 5:35
"Swain?" RO stuck his head out of the radio room, catching the other officer as he headed to the galley for dinner. "I've got Sally on the line for you."
"Thanks." Suddenly not as hungry, Swain ducked into the room.
"She doesn't sound happy," RO added, handing the sat phone over, but otherwise not moving.
"RO…" Swain cleared his throat, flicking his eyes out the door, but Robert didn't get the hint as he often didn't.
"I have to be here, but I'm not listening," Robert replied, picking up his bonsai shears and getting to work.
Swain glared at the younger sailor. "RO, it's personal. Please just give me five minutes with my wife."
Robert looked over at his superior officer's steely face and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "Fine. Five minutes." He made a show of checking his watch but stepped out of the room, the door banging shut behind him.
"Sal?" Swain whispered, gripping the phone tightly and bracing himself.
"Where are you?" she hissed, and he recoiled, not expecting quite that level of anger so soon. "Chlo's recital starts any minute now."
"I'm still at sea," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We had a medical emergency and had to rendezvous with a ship better equipped to deal with it, but we're on our way back to port now."
"That doesn't do us much good now, does it?" Sally snapped, and he could hear the quiver of not-so-distant tears in her voice, which tore a gaping hole in his chest. "Chloe's been asking about you. She's so excited. You were supposed to be here, Chris."
"I'm so sorry, Sal. You know I'd rather be there," he insisted, propping his head in one hand as he pressed the receiver to his face so tightly he could feel its warmth.
"You're never home," she continued, and the quiver was gone, replaced instead by a flinty edge and burgeoning rage. "You missed her birth, you've missed half of her birthdays, and you just continue to keep missing things. She keeps on asking me why her friends' daddies come to things but you never do and I don't know what to tell her anymore."
"Now that's not fair!" Swain burst out, feeling his guilt meld with indignation. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me and when we started trying for a baby. Do you want me to take a shore posting?"
"No, you won't be happy. You'll resent me for it," she replied, tamping down the rage and finding it replaced by a deep bitterness.
"Then what do you want? Tell me what you want me to do, Sally." Tears were beginning to well in his eyes, and he blinked the pricking away furiously, aware of the desperation creeping into his voice.
"I don't know if I want to keep doing this, Chris," she said slowly, and she might as well have cracked his ribcage wide open and ripped his heart out with her bare hands. "It's not fair to me and it's not fair to Chloe."
He blew out a shaky sigh. "Look, we'll be back in port by 21:00. Take some time to think about what you want and we can talk about it when I get in. I love you."
"Alright." The line went dead and he slumped back in his chair, rubbing his hands across his face. The arguments had become more frequent and balancing the job that he loved with the family he loved was tearing him apart.
"It's been five." Robert stepped back into the room, took one look at Swain, and left for the galley to get a brew before the other man could respond.
Swain peeled himself out of the chair, not feeling much like dinner anymore, and headed to his rack, where he lay down and closed his eyes.
As his shipmates dispersed into the night, he waited on the dock in his whites until he couldn't wait anymore, fatigue tugging at his eyelids. Willing himself to stay awake, he called himself a cab, let himself into a darkened house and dropped into bed, the other side cold and conspicuously empty.
Three months earlier, Cairns: 19:39
After a tricky SIEV boarding that had culminated in a round of bullets to his Kevlar, Swain was once again reminded of how lucky he was to be alive as he hauled his aching body off the Hammersley to enjoy the next week of shore leave, which included lots of hugging his daughter tightly.
The driveway was empty, which wasn't entirely unusual, but the house was so empty the silence rang, and the air was slightly stale and musty.
"Sally? Chloe?" he called, stepping cautiously over the threshold and noticing the lack of shoes on the mat, the eerie quiet pressing in on him. He set his bag down with relief and went to head upstairs when he noticed a sheaf of papers on the kitchen table. Stomach plummeting, he approached them like they might explode, and reached for them, fingers shaking already. When he read the works on the front, his pulse raced and blood rushed through his ears. With damp palms, he dropped into the nearest chair, head in his hands and tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Divorce papers. Sally had left him divorce papers, her signature already signed neatly on the dotted line. There was no denying it anymore - it really was over.